Help Our One-Eyed Rescue Dog Live Without Pain

I’m Big Boss, a 9-year-old rescue dog with one eye, a heart murmur, and a mouth full of pain. I’ve finally found a loving home after years of fear, but now I need surgery to remove my rotten teeth, and my humans can’t afford it. Will you help me smile again?

Hi. My name is Big Boss.

They named me after some hero from a video game who also lost his left eye… whatever a video game is. But before I got that name, I had no name. I was just a scared dog, living on the streets.

I don’t remember much from back then, just that the human I had didn’t treat me kindly. I don’t know why. I only know that one day, something bad happened to my eye. It hurt. A lot. For days, I could barely see, especially on that side. I was hiding behind a dumpster when a lady-human spotted me. I tried to run, but it was hard—I couldn’t see where I was going. Eventually, she caught me… and to my surprise, didn’t hurt me. She held me gently.

She took me to a big place with lots of barking and loud noises. There were so many dogs, all living in cages. I was hurting and confused. Another lady picked me up and placed me on a table. I don’t know what happened next. I got really sleepy. When I woke up… the pain was gone, but so was my eye.

Everything was new and scary after that. People would come and look at me, tilt their heads with sad faces, then walk away. No one wanted me. I get it; I was older, had one eye, and was afraid of everything.

Then one day, something strange happened.

A person came and opened my cage. They took me to the yard, where three humans were waiting. They kept calling me, asking me to come closer. I didn’t move. I was scared. I thought maybe they’d hurt me. But they didn’t. They were gentle. They spoke softly. I still didn’t trust them… but saw something in their eyes. Something kind.

They decided to take me home. Their home.

In the car, I heard them say I had a “heart murmur” and really bad breath. I didn’t know what that meant. I just sat there, nervous, trying not to shake too much.

When we arrived, I was still scared. But the place was warm, quiet, and clean. They gave me food (at first it was crunchy—ouch! My mouth hurt!), but after a few days, the lady-human, Gaby, started feeding me soft food. It tasted good. It didn’t hurt. That felt nice.

Slowly, I started to feel safe. Gerardo and Gaby gave me my own spot, pet me, rubbed my tummy, and let me rest. After a while, they tied me to a long string (they called it a leash) and took me outside. I didn’t want to run—I just wanted to stay close. They made me feel protected.

I’m still scared of sudden noises and fast movements. I’m still unsure of strangers. But I know these two love me. I feel it. And I love them too.

But now, I’m hurting again.

My face aches. When I chew, it feels like lightning in my mouth. I cry. I don’t mean to—it just hurts so bad. My humans didn’t know why at first, but they got really worried and took me to see someone they called the “vet.”

She looked at me all over, and then opened my mouth. Oh no. That really hurt.

She told them my teeth were in terrible shape. My canines were rotten, and many others were infected, too. They need to be pulled, all of them, and it has to happen soon. The infection is only getting worse.

But here’s the problem… the surgery costs almost $4,000, and I also need to visit a heart doctor first, something called a “cardiologist”—to make sure my murmur won’t make the anesthesia too risky. That visit is another $900.

I don’t understand money. But I know my humans are worried. I see it on their faces. I hear it in their voices when they think I’m sleeping. I know they want to help me. I know they would give me the moon if they could.

That’s why I’m asking you.

I’ve finally found what every dog dreams of: love, safety, soft beds, warm food, and people who care. But this pain is keeping me from enjoying any of it. I want to stay, heal, and live the rest of my life without hurting.

So if you’re reading this, and you can help—even just a little—I’d be so, so grateful.

Please help me get rid of this pain. Help me stay with the people who saved me.

With love (and a little tail wag),

Big Boss

(one-eyed, slightly broken, but finally loved)