"Peanut" is five years old and my constant companion, my little pride and joy.  I got her when she was about a year old; it's been instant love ever since.  A friend of mine from my bingo club gave her to me; she figured that, as a lonely old lady, I could use some company.

It was the perfect match.

Little did I realize just how important her being there for me when I needed her the most would come into play.

This particular event happened two years ago.  I had fallen in the kitchen when my knee gave out.  When I landed, I landed directly on my right hip.  I knew immediately that I had done something to it.  I couldn't move or even attempt to get up without being in excruciating pain.  It was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.

What made the situation worse was that my husband had stepped out for a burger with some of his retired cronies.  I was home alone ... well, not exactly:  little Peanut was home as well, but what could a tiny little dog that was hardly bigger than a minute possibly do to help her stricken mistress??

She did the only thing she knew: she barked.  And barked.  And barked.  She never let up.  Eventually, one of my neighbors heard her; she knocked on the door, to see if everything was okay with me.  I told her that I was hurt and needed help:  I couldn't get up; I had done something to my hip.  By this time I was in so much pain I was in tears.

My neighbor had an extra key, so she came in to see what was going on with me.  She found me on the kitchen floor.  My poor dog was barking up a storm.  She (my neighbor, not the dog! LOL) immediately sprinted to the phone and called for paramedics.  She said the ambulance would be here in a matter of minutes.

All the time I waited for the paramedics, my neighbor stayed with me.  She covered me up with a blanket and tried to keep Peanut calm.  Poor Peanut was beside herself; she was scared for me.  She didn't know what to do, except that she couldn't help me other than to lick my face and lick the tears away. 

The paramedics came about ten minutes later.  Peanut started barking all over again.  She was so upset she piddled right there on the floor, beside me.  My neighbor took Peanut out of the room as the paramedics tended to me.  Within minutes, they had me hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor; they also had oxygen in my nose and me loaded on the stretcher.  Soon I was wheeled out the door and into the back of the waiting ambulance.

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I ended up being taken to surgery almost immediately after arriving in the ER.  I had most definitely broken my hip.  I don't remember much except the doctors telling me that everything was going to be okay before the anesthiologist put the gas mask over my face.  Less than a minute later, I sunk into blissful darkness.

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I woke up later in the recovery room.  I was confused, but I really wasn't in much pain.  I was, however, extremely nauseated; I proved that by throwing up all over the nurse who was checking my vital signs.  LOL  I was told that I had come through the surgery just fine; there were no problems and that my vital signs were stable.  I guess that meant a good thing.  She said I was in pretty good shape for a women of my age (76).  My doctor, Dr. Mahapatra, said that I would probably spend at least a week or two here in the hospital; after that I would probably have to go to rehab, where I would have intensive occupational and physical therapy until I could get back on my feet again.  That would probably take at least several months, the way things looked now.

At the news, I fretted.  I immediately thought of my baby "Peanut".  Also my husband, Rory.  Who would serve him his meals and make sure he took his prescribed medications?  Who would do the household chores?  I started crying as I told Dr. Mahapatra of my dilemma; he said not to worry; he'd talk to my neighbors about what I was facing.  He said things would be taken care of.

Most of that first day I slept.  I was more aware the next day after my surgery, but I was in pain; I spent at least half of that day in a drug-induced fog.  When I was lucid, I was pretty cloudy-headed:  I was still pretty confused and mixed up.  The third day all I could think about was the pain I was in; nothing seemed to touch it.  It was one of the worst times of my life.

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Fortunatly, I recovered.  I wsa in the hospital for a week and a half; when I was released, I spent the next several months in the rehab hospital, learning how to use a walker (or a wheelchair) and learning how to help myslf as I recovered from my hip replacement surgery.

When I finally got home, it was a happy homecoming.  My daughters were there, as were over half of the neighbors on our floor.  "Peanut", meanwhile, was the happiest of all.  When she saw me, she went wild with convulsions of joy.  I had never seen such an excited little dog in all my days!  It was so good to be home, with the people I loved the most! 

I owe my life to my little furry baby who had the good peace of mind to bark for help when I needed it the most.  Hadn't it been for her, as I said earlier, I would have probably lain there in severe pain for several days and possibly go into shock and die.  I consider her my lifesaver and I consider her to be a hero in a tiny, furry body.  Peanut is definitely my biggest litlte hero!