Hello, my name is Bo. I’m 14 years old, and I’ve been by my mummy’s side through thick and thin for as long as I can remember. I’ve protected her when she was scared, comforted her when she was sad, and even given her reasons to keep going when life felt too heavy. She always tells me I’m her best friend, her protector, and her reason for holding on.

When I was just a tiny puppy, someone hurt me badly. I was hit over the head with a walking stick, and because of that I grew up scared of strangers and sometimes show fear aggression. I promise it’s not my fault—I never wanted to be afraid. Sadly, because of this, I can’t get insurance. None of this was mummy’s or my fault, but it means now, when I need help the most, there’s nowhere to turn.

My mummy blames herself for my accident and says she’ll never be able to forgive herself. I jumped out of the front seat of her car, and even though she caught me and supported my weight, I still hurt my back. She paid for me to see a chiropractor and took me to the vets, and at first I was improving. But nearly two weeks later, I suddenly became completely paralysed in my back legs. Since then, mummy has paid for several vet visits and even took me to see a neurologist. He thinks I’ve slipped one or two discs—one in my neck, which has affected my front legs too, and one in the lower part of my back.

My mummy thought we had more time to figure it out, but today everything got much worse – I started screaming in pain whenever I move. I have an appointment with the neurologist again tomorrow and the only chance I have to walk again – or even just live without pain – is more than likely to be emergency surgery tomorrow. Without it, the pain will only get worse, and I might not get to be by mummy’s side anymore. They talk about “risks” and “chances,” but all mummy hears is the possibility of losing me because im old and there's risks. She’s a fighter. I’ve watched her fight through so much in her own life, and now she’s fighting for me. Putting me to sleep isn’t an option—not for her, not for me. But maybe my body will be strong enough to come back, maybe it won’t. But I do know this: mummy gave me the best life any dog could ever hope for.

The surgery is very expensive, it is £6,500 and mummy wasn’t ready for something this sudden, she thought she'd have 4 more months. She keeps crying, holding me close, telling me she’ll do anything to save me. I know she would give me the world if she could – but right now, we need help.

At the end of July, since I became paralysed, my mummy has been caring for me every second of every day. She doesn’t get much sleep anymore because she has to stay awake at night to clean me when I have accidents, give me my medication, and make sure I’m comfortable. She won't be able to go back to her job as a teacher, because she says I need her and she refuses to leave me.

Mummy has physical and mental health problems of her own, and I know she’s exhausted. But no matter how tired or unwell she feels, she never complains, and she never gives up on me. She’s even cut back on bills just to pay for my food, medication, and care, which costs a lot every month. She always says she’s proud and doesn’t like to ask for help—but this time, it’s not for her. It’s for me.

I know I’m old, but I still have fight left in me. I still wag my tail when mummy talks to me, and I still feel the warmth of love every single day. With the right surgery and care, I could have more time with her—more time to protect her, to cuddle her, and to remind her she’s not alone.

So I’ll fight—because she’s fighting, too. And no matter what happens, I hope she knows that I will always, always be her Bo Bean.

So please, if you can help, you’d be giving me a chance to keep being the dog my mummy needs, and you’d be giving her hope too. I’ve given her everything I have for 14 years. Now I need help to keep going. Any donation, no matter how small, would mean the world to me, to my sister Lola, and to my mummy. She says she’ll never be able to repay the kindness of people who help, but she will be forever grateful.

Thank you for reading my story,

Love,

Bo