The second story in my book, “A Voice in the Hills,” was about Gizmo. Gizmo came under my purview just as I was starting my urgent care fund at the shelter. I had just gotten three local vets to promise me one free case each year.

Gizmo had been tossed from a vehicle and suffered a broken femur and tibia close to the knee. He also had green stick fractures on the other leg and his hip socket had to be removed, my first FHO case.

When we first spoke to Gizmo we said, “You have lots of problems, little guy, but you are certainly loved.” 

Gizmo’s answer was, “I’ll be okay, Uncle Lennie, and I promise I’ll be no problem at all.”

I brought Gizmo to Dr. Tommy Maiolo at Landrum Vet.

“Tommy,” I said, “I don’t think I have enough money in my urgent care fund just yet for this little guy but if you’ll help him I promise I’ll raise the money.” 

Tommy smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Lennie. I’ll make this one of the first free cases I promised you.” I tearfully hugged him, which embarrassed the heck out of him, but true to his word he did a fantastic job on mending little Gizmo.

Subsequently, Gizmo was adopted by Sue and Richard Wallahora. I call them “the wonderful Wallahoras.” It sounds like a carnival name, doesn’t it? But it is the perfect adjective for these beautiful people who have fostered more animals than I have rescued along with so many other things they do for the shelter animals.

Gizmo has been their pride and joy for over ten years now. He currently resides with three females (dogs, that is) and 11 cats (three indoor and eight at the barn). He is by far the Wallahora’s number one ambassador and has been Uncle Gizmo to countless foster puppies. Over the years I have visited once or twice with the latest being this past Sunday.

Gizmo is now a 90 pound ball of love and has recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. His life expectancy is six months. We could take his leg but it’s agreed that that would not help much and would alter his life quality too much for his remaining time.

I tearfully held the big fella in my arms, knowing that Richard and Sue will keep him on whatever pain medicines he needs to keep him comfortable.

“How are you doing old friend?” I asked. 

“I’m fine, Uncle Lennie, don’t you worry. Didn’t I tell you I’d be no problem at all?”

Thanks for listening.