A SALUTE TO ROLLER DOG : WOMAN RECALLS HOW PET OVERCAME GREAT ODDS.

Byline: Dennis McCarthy 

Doris Bennett sits at a desk in her Burbank home writing a public thank-you note to all the people who were so kind to Toby over the years.

To all the kids in the neighborhood who stopped by to play with the little paralyzed dog who had a pair of wheels for back legs - to all the merchants along Magnolia Boulevard who always offered a treat and kind word when he rolled by.

To all the people driving by in their cars, honking their horns and giving Toby the thumbs up sign as he took his walks - to all her friends and neighbors on Catalina Street who helped her care for Toby when even wheels couldn't get him around anymore.

To the veterinarians who helped sustain his life - and, especially, to her son, John, who went to the animal shelter one day in December 1987, and came home with a 4-year-old, tail wagging bag of bones who would change and enrich her life forever.

A dachshund-mix dog she would call Toby. A dog whose rear legs would be paralyzed within a year due to a herniated disk, a back problem common in the low, long-bodied breed of dog.

A dog her vet said could not be helped with an operation, adding that most dogs with this condition are put to sleep.

What happened next is a remarkable story of love and courage that grabs the heart and squeezes it with joy.

A story about a disabled dog with the heart of a lion.

``As I looked into Toby's sad eyes that day at the vet's, I tried to determine what would be best for this dog I'd had for such a short time, but had grown to love so much,'' Doris says.

``Then, I remembered a quote I had seen once - `A dog wags its tail with its heart.' Although paralyzed, Toby had continued to wag his tail every time anyone entered the room, just as he had always done.

``With a heart as big as that, I decided he at least deserved the chance to fight for his life.'' And fight he did.

Toby spent the next month undergoing rehabilitation efforts at the vet's - visited everyday by Doris, and his two dog pals at home, Tasha and Spooky. When he finally got home, Toby was confined to a baby playpen to restrict his movements for his own good.

``Day after day, Tasha and Spooky lay beside the playpen, waiting for their leader to come out. They slept there. They ate there. They left his side only for a bathroom break, and they never went together, leaving Toby unattended. It was as if they knew how important it was for them to be with him.

``Their devotion paid off. After about a month, I came home one day to find a big hole torn in the nylon mesh side of the empty playpen. Toby came staggering into my bedroom, Tasha on one side, Spooky on the other, as if they were propping up their old pal.

``I still don't know to this day if Toby sprung himself, or if Tasha and Spooky did it for him.''

Whatever, Doris knew what Toby was trying to tell her. He was tired of lying around. He was ready to hit the road again, chase a few squirrels. She went out the next day and bought him a custom-made, two-wheel K-9 cart.

``Strapped in and buckled up, Toby zoomed down the sidewalk that first day, confident and excited with his new freedom,'' Doris says. ``He figured out the necessities immediately - rolling up to his favorite tree, parking next to it, and relieving himself.

``He also determined the purpose of the handicapped ramps at the end of sidewalks. He used them most of the time, but could not resist the occasional temptation to do a wheelie off the curbs.''

Soon, Toby became a canine celebrity in his little corner of Burbank, gaining even more fans when Doris strapped an American flag on Toby's cart in 1991 during Desert Storm, and kept it there even after the war was over.

Veterans saluted Toby when he rolled by - kids on their skateboards and in-line skates nicknamed him Roller Dog - the elderly confined to wheelchairs invited him out for a ride - teen-agers in their cars wanted to drag race.

Other dogs? They hated him.

``When he first got his wheels and we went to the vet's for adjustments and checkups, other dogs in the waiting room acted very hostile to him,'' Doris says.

``I suppose his unusual appearance confused them. It got so bad that we started coming in the back door. I felt sorry for Toby. He didn't seem to know he was any different than they. He just wanted to make friends.''

Out on the streets, there were a few episodes where Spooky had to step in and protect his handicapped pal from some of the neighborhood bullies. But, there was this one time when it was just Doris and Toby on the walk, and this big, black Lab charged out an open front door.

``Toby immediately rolled himself between the Lab and me, and started running toward her. His back fur stood straight up, and he was growling gutturally, a sound I had never heard from him before.

``The Lab skidded to a halt. Apparently, Toby had convinced her to get out of his face or he'd kick the kibble out of her, because the Lab slowly turned, quit barking, and ran back onto her porch.''

By early 1995, though, the years finally began catching up with Toby. He began to show signs of extreme fatigue after a walk, and Doris was forced to retire his wheels for good.

In April of this year, at age 13, Toby was diagnosed with congestive heart disease. In early August, he died.

``The big heart that had given him the strength and courage to overcome difficult odds and hardships couldn't carry the burden any longer,'' Doris said.

MEMO: Dennis McCarthy's column appears Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday.

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PHOTO Toby, a dachshund mix, was fitted with a custom-madecanine cart after a herniated disk caused permanent paralysis to his back legs.