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he’s the black streak racing around Oriental in the doggie wheelchair. The one chasing the squirrel, bounding after the flying disc and slaloming among the picnic tables – all with the funny looking cart behind her.

But only recently Allie was reduced to dragging herself around with her front legs and her owner John Delamar feared she might be paralyzed forever. For showing us humans how to adapt and get back to rolling, careening, and power sliding through life, we name Allie Miss November.

Allie in full flight retrieving her toy in Lou Mac Park. .

Allie, Sarah Rilinger and John Delamar at Lou Mac park.

A few years ago, John Delamar’s friends found a puppy on Highway 55. They took it in, but after a few months, decided it needed a new home. So it wound up with John. Referred to at the time as the “Black Ness Monster”, in reference to the lake creature, the dog was of indeterminate breeding – possibly a lab/beagle cross. One thing was clear, though. The dog possessed boundless amounts of energy.

“I came home from work one day” says John, “and heard her making sounds from under the house. I crawled under and couldn’t believe my eyes.” The dog had crawled under the lattice work and, standing on its hind legs, attacked the underside of the structure. It ripped extensive amounts of insulation and duct work free, scattering the debris around the yard and creating “an unbelievable amount of damage”.

John says he was “very upset” with the dog and, “had to set some ground rules.”

Then there was the matter of finding her a suitable name. Black Ness Monster seemed, well, a tad dark.

On Thanksgiving day, John and the dog were riding in his pick up truck. Woody Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant” came on the radio. “Alice. I just thought that would be a nice name.” he says. The name stuck and has since been shortened to Allie. That was 6 years ago and John says, “it’s hard to believe I’ve had anything that long.” As to the duct work incident, John says, “that’s the only thing that she’s done that was horrendous.” – a one time incident never to be repeated.

Allie’s first 5 years with John passed in a flurry of hiking and sailing.

John, a fan of long hikes, would take her for extensive walks along Highway 55 and Kershaw Road. Other times, off road rambles were in order. Then there were the Oriental outings. He says, “she was so strong, she would pull me on my skateboard.”

Joining them on their outings was John’s friend Sarah Rilinger.

One summer, Sarah worked as a sailing instructor at the Bow to Stern Sailing School. She says Allie, “would swim around the Optimist dinghies, right there on the race course. The kids used to throw tennis balls at her while she was in the water.” The paddling dog was used to reinforce the “tiller toward trouble” lesson. On a tiller steered craft, pointing the helm toward a navigational danger steered the craft in the opposite direction. That, says Sarah, taught sailors, “to steer away from danger.”

Allie and Sarah a few summers ago enjoying a paddle at the mouth of Camp Creek. Sarah says it’s one of Allie’s favorite swimming holes. (Carol Silinger photo)

While most dogs wear mass produced dog tags, not so Allie. She sports one of rainbow webbing. Into it, Sarah stitched Alice’s name and John’s phone number.

All this activity led to a slew of nicknames. Regarding her energy, there was “Black Dynamite” and “Black a Saurus Rex”. Also, “Hypotamus”, “Moosestafafleas”, and “Moosealini”. There was even, in a nod to her love of water, “Dogopotamus” and “Hydro Dog”.

There were quieter times too, like visits to Libby Delamar, John’s grandmother. Sarah says she couldn’t see and enjoyed petting Allie. “Because Libby was blind, when she would pet Allie, it was sometimes backwards or made Allie uncomfortable.” But Allie, “was so sweet that she would just lay there and let Libby love on her however she wanted to.”

Then Allie went lame.

One day in March 2011 John and Sarah noticed Allie’s hindquarters weakening. Her condition worsened but vet Dorothy Dimond couldn’t pinpoint the trouble. It was thought maybe she’d hurt herself on one of her running jags. Allie, after all, was known for blind pursuit of game. Once, hot on the heels of a squirrel, she chased the creature up the trunk of a low-branched oak. She didn’t stop running until she’d scrambled into the tree’s lower branches. There, from her perch a few feet in the air, Sarah says Allie looked down at her as though thinking, “how did I get up here?”

Perhaps, it was thought, she’d just injured herself.

But her condition worsened. She went from unsteady on her hind legs to dragging them on the ground. Additional trips to the vet revealed nothing definitive. The condition appeared incurable. In the end, it was determined Allie was affected by a degenerative spinal disorder.

The only good news was that Allie wasn’t suffering. Sarah says, “she still wanted to run and wasn’t in pain.”

“I grieved,” says Sarah. “She was an incredible athlete and to see her deteriorate was like losing the dog we once had.” The pet John and Sarah teasingly called the “Dogopotamus”, the one who loved dragging skateboards and swimming around sailboats, seemed finished. She’d reached the point where many dog owners would be excused for making a final trip to the vet.

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But that’s not what happened. While Sarah understands some people would have given up, she says she and John, “tried to figure out something instead of putting her to sleep.” She says, “you have to believe in your dog, listen, really listen, to what it’s telling you. Allie was telling us she wanted to live.”

As a last resort, they ordered what Sarah refers to as a “doggie wheelchair”, a device that supports a dog’s hindquarters, allowing it to pull itself around on its front feet.

Allie’s new “Walkin’ Wheels” running gear.

The device arrived at an unfortunate time. Soon after it arrived, the eye of Hurricane Irene would pass over Oriental. The only timing more dramatic than its arrival was its deployment. John, who weathered the storm at his home with Allie and Sarah, admits humans and dog were overcome by cabin fever half way through the hurricane. John and Sarah wanted to stretch their legs. Allie wanted to pee. So they strapped Allie into her new cart.

Sarah still marvels at what happened next. With the tail of hurricane Irene still lashing Oriental, Allie’s eyes lit up. Sarah says it’s as though she were saying “‘give me those wheels! I can run! This will work!‘”.

While the rest of Oriental was surveying the damage, the threesome was testing out Allie’s new mobility. “I should have been getting stuff out of the yard,” John says. Instead, they began their first training session. It was a success, with Allie quickly adjusting to her new conveyance.

Allie as cart horse. The collar around her head allows her to pull with her shoulders. The diagonal straps across her back prevent her from coming out of the cart should she roll over – as occasionally happens. Padded loops around her rear legs keep her paws from dragging while allowing her rear limbs to move in a running motion. Here, Allie enjoys a sip from her favorite watering spot, the doggie watering bowl in front of Frank and Jennifer Roe’s South Avenue home.

Bionic dog: Allie, strapped into her wheels, retrieves her flying disk. Behind her stands the oak tree into which she climbed while chasing a squirrel in her pre-vehicular days.

Better than a pet toy: John Standley is a big part of Allie’s life. He takes her for walks and is loved to the point that, given the choice between her favorite doggie toy and John, she opts for the later. Sarah says, “he’s the only thing Allie loves more than her Frisbee.”

Allie takes a moment off from dashing about to display a side view of her “Bat Dog” pose.

In the days and weeks that followed, John and Sarah marveled at how Allie embraced her restored mobility.

Sarah says what’s moved her most about the experience was witnessing Allie’s adaptability – how quickly she adjusted to her new life with the cart. If she’d been the one having to adapt to life in a wheel chair, Sarah she says, “it would have taken me a while to commit to the idea of being disabled.” That was the wonder of seeing Allie, within seconds of being strapped into her cart, move on with her life. “Allie immediately worked through the problem. She showed me it’s not about the legs. It about the desire to live, to be alive. It She hasn’t mourned the loss of her mobility.”

Fine tuning the process is taking a bit longer. John says she’s still learning her new limits. One of Allie’s great joys is chasing her fabric flying disc. Instead of chasing it under picnic tables, she’s had to learn go around. Should the toy end up on the large rocks that line the South Avenue riverfront, she no longer plunges into them, cart in tow. Better to wait for John or Sarah to fetch her toy.

Then there’s the “turtle effect”.

Allie’s penchant for chasing squirrels remains undiminished. This can lead to trouble when she chases them across curbs with her cart. Sarah says the cart’s wheels will catch on the curb and tip Allie backward, “like a bridge opening.” In extreme cases, dog and conveyance topple over backwards, leaving steed and vehicle inverted like a turtle overturned on its shell. At first she struggled when this happened. These days, having turned turtle enough, Sarah says she just looks at her in her upside down state as though thinking, “come on, help me back over!”

Hang dog: Here, Sarah prevents Allie from tipping over backward in her cart – the so-called “turtle effect”. Moments earlier, Allie was trying to bound up the stairs to visit doggie friend Ellie May.

Dog buddy Ellie May visits Allie. Sarah says it’s been a challenge for Allie to forge new canine bonds. “Dogs have had a hard time relating to her. It’s like she’s this half dog, half car, not quite all dog thing.” Ellie May (Karen Prince’s dog) was able to see through all this. Here, she’s taking a break from socializing to inspect Allie’s running gear.

John admits some cart etiquette still escapes Allie. He says, “she still runs over my toes.”

At home, this isn’t a problem. John jokes his house is now a “handicap accessible dog house.” While unsteady on her hindquarters, John says she she can navigate his house without the cart. She also enjoys visiting John’s grandfather, Ned Delamar, in New Bern. Her love of the water remains undiminished. Wearing a life jacket she still enjoys swimming in Camp Creek.

Allie visits John’s grandfather Ned Delamar. Sarah says she’s Ned’s favorite visitor under 3 feet tall. (Joan Delamar photo)

And so it is that Allie has made the transition from chasing squirrels and swimming in Camp Creek to doing the same in a cart and a flotation device. Which comes as no surprise to John and Sarah. After all, says Sarah, “you can’t stop a Dogopotamus from running around.” For showing us humans how to adapt and move on, even if it means turning turtle and running over a few toes, TownDock.net salutes Allie – Miss November.

Allie’s Bio

Celebrity Pet Most Resembles: Jeff Gordon

Favorite watering hole: the doggie water dish in front of Frank and Jennifer Roe’s home
Favorite sailboat: Optimist pram
Favorite roller disco song: “Hell on Wheels” by Cher
Favorite food: sliced cheese, plain baked sweet potato
Favorite pet store: Hardison’s Tire in Bayboro
Words she hates to hear: Your tire is flat.

Know a pet that is a standout? Send in some details and a photo to info@towndock.net. Tell why that pet deserves the coveted TownDock.net Pet of the Month Prize Package --- accolades, a pat on the head (snakes excluded) and a box of Milk Bones ( or snack suitable for the species). We regret that we cannot offer a college scholarship to Pet Of The Month winners. Animals caught near the HarborCam attempting to suck up to the judges will be disqualified.