The nurses went and spoke to the Veterinarian that had performed the surgery and he came out to see me. He told me that I could see the puppy, but that he was only 10min out of surgery and still partly under anesthesia, and not completely aware. He asked everyone that was in the waiting room to sit down on the concrete floor, because the little 3lbs (1.5kg) puppy would be scared otherwise. Between me, my co-worker, the nurses and a couple of other people waiting, we were about 10people that sat down in a big circle on the cold concrete floor. The doctor brought out the little bundle, and he was dirty, matted, covered in dry blood and a huge bandage around his leg, and stiches from where he had been nuterned. The poor thing was stitched front, back and center.

The Vet put him down on the floor, on the other side of the circle from where I was sitting. The little bundle couldn’t walk right because of the surgery, tried to find his balance and looked around. It was easy to see he was still drugged from the anesthesia. He then took focus and with his one good paw, draged himself across the concrete floor, passed all the other people sitting, to me and gently restsed his head on my leg.

I was completely overwhelmed with emotions, fighting to hold back tears. I felt sadness for all the pain and suffering the little creature had endured, the cruelness of humans, but yet joy that he picked me, he felt an invisible bond with me and I took it as a sign from above.

The Doctor told me that the surgery had gone well, but warned me that they were still not sure if he might have to amputate his leg, that he needs to be on strong antibiotics and pain medication while he heals. With tearful eyes, I told him I don’t care, I have to have him, and when would he be well enough to be adopted? The Doctor answered “Either you take him right now, or he goes back into the cages with the other dogs and he’s up for adoption again!” Needless to say, I was walking out with a very weak and terrified puppy, wrapped in my workout hoody I had found in the trunk of my car. Since I had to go back to work, I put him in a Dior shoe box, still wrapped in my hoody, under my desk with a heat lamp, where he rested until work was over.

I frantically had to find a Veterinarian and make an appointment for the following morning, because I only received medication enough to last him through the night. I found a great pet doctor one block from my house in West Hollywood, and he started treating little Lukas the next couple of months. It was a long healing process, but it was pretty much clear to me after a few weeks that Lukas would heel perfectly and become to true joy of my life he is!