My name is Chris Cory. I am a filmmaker based in Los Angeles, and I made a film about my disabled pit bull, Coral. It's called "Diva Dog: Pit Bull on Wheels." Although I make many different kinds of films, this one is very near and dear to my heart because it is essentially my own story. Coral came in to my life in a very unusual way. I have always loved animals, and I have been bringing strays home for as long as I can remember. I have found animals (or did they find me?) in Florida, Tennesee, North Carolina, Arkansas, Rhode Island, New York, New Jersey, Arizona and California - and they have all ended up being a part of my family. But Coral was living just one town away from me - in East Orange, NJ - ignored and forgotten. I was visiting some "friends" of mine one day, people I had visited quite often. My "friend," Latisha, asked me if I wanted to meet her dog. I was shocked that they had a dog, as I had never seen a dog there. But sure enough, they DID have a dog - and it was kept locked up in a tiny closet. I had never even heard a peep - not a whimper, not a bark. Latisha opened the closet door and out bounded this beautiful, happy pit bull. The dog promptly covered me with innumerable kisses. Since I truly love animals, I responded in like. The dog was so excited to be getting attention, she could hardly contain herself. I asked Latisha why they kept the dog in the closet. She said her boyfriend didn't want the dog in the house making a mess. Latisha had always gotten along with my dogs, and I had never perceived her as an animal abuser or someone who was especially uncomfortable with dogs. I was left kind of speechless and perplexed. As the weeks went by, my good friend, Rebekah AKA "Lioness," would babysit Latisha's three-year old son, Little Chris. One day, Lioness came to my house in tears. She had seen Latisha's boyfriend, Big Chris, severely beat the dog. She said he had thrown her against the wall, kicked her and punched her. The reason for the beating was that she had peed in the closet. Lioness spent many nights over their house, and she told me that sometimes Big Chris would not take the dog outside for more than 24 hours at a time! And then he would beat her if she couldn't hold it in!!! Needless to say, I was disgusted and saddened immensely by this. I had met this dog, who was so friendly and sweet and vibrant. How could anyone hurt such an innocent animal? I wondered what we could do. Lioness and I looked into the legal options, which were slim to say the least. Basically, we would need to file a report and bring them to court - which would be a lengthy process, and the courts don't exactly go out of their way to protect animals. So Lioness offered to take the dog. Big Chris told her that no one was going to get that dog. He said he would either shoot her or leave her on the side of the highway! These were his exact words!!! We decided we needed to do something to protect this dog. So Lioness had a heart to heart with Latisha. It was agreed that Lioness could take the dog when no one was home, and they would say she had gotten out and run away. So one fine day, Lioness did just that. She was babysitting Little Chris. She took the dog, whose name at the time was Coco, and called my dad to pick them up. We brought "Coco" back to my house, and there we were with our little fugitive pit bull. We still didn't know what we were going to do with "Coco," but we assumed we would just need to find her a home. At the time, I had limited experience with pit bulls. Because of all the negative things you hear in the news, I was actually afraid to let her meet our other three dogs and ten cats - fearing she might maul them all to death! So we kept her in a spare bedroom (a step up from the closet). Slowly but surely, and with much caution, we introduced her to the other dogs. Well, she did not maul them, and in fact seemed rather unaffected by their presence. And throughout it all, she proceeded to inflict another kind of death upon us - death by kisses! Man, could that dog lick!!! It was actually getting on my nerves. She simply would not stop licking us! At this point, Big Chris was on the lookout for us. He had figured it out, and Latisha had caved, so he knew we had his precious "Coco." He even came to our house, but my parents stood firm and denied we had the dog. We then brought "Coco" to a friend's house in Brooklyn, NY for a couple weeks to keep her out of sight. And then we took a road trip to the Florida Keys with my chocolate lab, Corbin (who I found abandoned in Tennessee with an emaciated coon hound), and Lioness' little black dog, Marcus (who we found running the streets of Brooklyn). "Coco" was now running free with her new friends all along the East Coast - beaches, meadows, forests, mountains, you name it. "Coco" adapted to her new lifestyle immediately, and we spent our very first Christmas together on the beaches of Islamorada in the Keys. Upon our return to NJ, she had been on the run for about a month. We had thrown Big Chris off our trail, but we knew there was always a chance he would spot us. So I would never bring "Coco" out for walks in the neighborhood. Twice a day, I would load her in the car, take her to the woods, and let her do her thing. And I re-named her Coral. It kind of signified our time in Florida and was similar enough to her old name to get her used to it rather quickly. She lived undercover for almost two years. Then, in December of 1998, I made the decision to move to California. So I loaded Coral and Corbin up in my truck, and Lioness accompanied us up until El Paso, TX. I spent seven weeks on the road. Coral got to go to all sorts of wonderful places - The Great Smoky Mountains, Big Bend National Park, Native American reservations and much more. We finally settled in Beverly Hills, CA. Coral's life had really come full circle. As a struggling filmmaker and actor, I sometimes worked three jobs, seven days a week. But Coral, Corbin and I were happy - and free! We lived in a studio apartment, but we were all together, and no one was complaining. Then on April 15, Easter Sunday 2001, an event happened that would change all of our lives forever. Two of my friends and I brought Coral and Corbin to Malibu for the day to run amok. We had spent a few hours in the mountains. Sunset was coming, so we decided to bring them down to the beach for a quick run. We had just finished our beach visit, and we were crossing the road to get back in the car. We were on a residential road called Broad Beach Road, which is very quiet and secluded. All we had to do was cross the street from the beach entrance to the car - a simple enough task. Corbin was in front of me, Coral was behind me. My friends were behind Coral. We only had about 15 feet to walk. I saw a car in the distance and thought nothing of it. It was far away, and besides, we were a group of people and dogs crossing the road. It never occurred to me to be particularly concerned. Well, Corbin and I had barely reached the car when I noticed the oncoming vehicle was approaching very quickly. I went to grab Corbin, as he is a notorious tire chaser. Within a moment, our lives would never be the same. I looked behind me to see where Coral was, and before I could even react, the car slammed into her going at least 60 mph in a 25 mph zone. I heard the impact, and then I heard the sound of her body going underneath the car. You could hear the thuds. I screamed a blood-curdling scream - a sound I had never heard escape from my lips. Coral's life flashed before my eyes. I thought, "This is it? This is how it ends?" After all we had been through, and her daring rescue from abuse, this is how she dies. I was already devastated. I knew for sure she was dead or dying a horribly painful death. The car never stopped. It sped away down the road, and I couldn't even get the license plate. When the dust settled, I saw Coral in the middle of the road. She looked at me with those sweet, inquisitive saucer eyes - and then she pulled herself out of the street! Her legs were limp, and they dragged behind her. But she was alert and conscious! I couldn't believe my eyes. Aside from a few cuts on her face, she looked OK. I immediately went into calm mode. As a producer, I have to solve all kinds of problems, and my nature is to remain calm and focused in a crisis situation. I went to comfort her and looked her in the eyes. She looked right back at me, and I knew she was perfectly aware of what was going on. Some nice people pulled over. They gave her some water and their baby's blanket. They called the closest emergency vet, which was about 30 miles away in LA. And they helped me to lift her and put her in the car. The entire ride to the vet, my head was swirling. Was she OK? Was she in pain? Would she survive? Were there internal injuries? Why were her legs limp? The whole time, Coral remained perfectly still and quiet. She sat erect in the passenger seat with a stoic expression on her face. She did not cry, yelp or whimper. Not a peep. I kept looking at her and talking to her. She was alert and responsive. She was not in shock. These are good things, I thought. She ended up spending only six days at the vet. They explained to me that the impact of the car had separated her spinal column, and two of her vertebrae had smashed together. OK - but was she alright? Would she live? After evaluating her for several days, they determined that there were no internal injuries - a miracle? She had a slight concussion (hard headed pit bull!), some broken bones in her lower half, and she was paralyzed from the waist down. They told me she had less than a 2% chance of recovering feeling. But the bottom line was this - Could she still live? The answer was yes. She was not in pain, because she was paralyzed. And once her bumps and bruises healed, she was essentially fine. Wow! - a paralyzed dog! I had never heard of such a thing. I immediately got on the internet and looked up "disabled dogs," "handicapped dogs," etc. To my surprise, there were lots of resources. There was even a Yahoo Group called Abledogs, devoted completely to people with disabled dogs! There was a website called www.handicappedpets.com with a newsletter and lots of helpful information. Furthermore, there were at least six companies that designed wheelchairs for dogs and other disabled animals! I was suddenly overwhelmed with information on the topic. I contacted members of the Abledogs group and asked lots of questions. I called all the wheelchair companies and interviewed them all. I saw pictures and home videos of dogs in their wheelchairs, dogs of all different sizes and breeds. I saw all sorts of animals with wheelchairs - ponies, goats, rabbits, even a tiny kitten with its own set of wheels! I was amazed. But the one thing I noticed about every story is these animals all looked happy. Every one of these disabled animals seemed perfectly content with its lot in life. They weren't depressed. They weren't angry. They all had a quality of life. The people I spoke to you said their pets were at peace with their situation, and the few added responsibilities that came along with having a handicapped pet were far outshadowed by the joy of having your beloved pet alive and by your side day after day. My decision was made. If Coral was not in pain, and she wanted to stick around, I was going to be there for her. And we would make it through this change together, as a family. I sat down with Coral at the vet and had a "heart to heart." I looked her in the eye and asked her if she wanted to be alive. And I promised to take care of her if she wanted to continue living. Well the rest is history, as they say. But since I am a filmmaker, I had an idea. Why not document Coral's experience on film? Surely someone could benefit from her story. Over the next four years, we filmed her all about town. She immediately took to being the center of attention, hence the "Diva Dog" title. Everywhere we went, she was inundated with attention from passersby from all walks of life - and this suited her just fine! No matter where we went, Coral was a star. And I have a sneaking suspicion her attitude was this - "Shoot...who needs them back legs anyway? These wheels are working for me! What more could a girl dog ask for than to be constantly pet by people? This is the life!" So not only did she have a good quality of life, but the quality of her life was actually BETTER - as far as a dog is concerned! At the time, I did not know what I would do with this footage. But I knew it could educate and enlighten people about the options available for disabled pets, as well as offer the public a positive pit bull role model. In 2005, after four years in her doggie wheelchair, Coral was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. I knew it was time to step up my plans for the "Diva Dog" movie. My producing partner at the time, Claire Farwell, was excited to jump on board and help me realize my vision. We proceeded to contact celebrities. We knew that having well-known, recognizable personalities on board would help us to spread Coral's message and give our film some validity. In a matter of a few short months, we had secured the involvement of Debra Wilson from "Mad TV," Linda Blair (a major advocate for pit bulls), Emmy-nominated Adrienne Frantz from "The Bold & the Beautiful," and several cast members from NBC's "Passions," including 1991 Miss USA and former Miss Kansas Kelli McCarty. We were on our way to making a "real movie" about Coral's experience. People were very moved by her story and excited to be a part of her film. In the midst of all this, Coral was becoming weaker. I had a sense her time was near. And sure enough, she passed away in my arms on June 16, 2005. I knew it was coming. I had tried to prepare myself and spend as much time with her as possible in her final weeks. On that day, June 16, I was at home. It was early afternoon. I was snuggling with Coral on the floor. She had been sick for a couple weeks, but she was still alert and full of love. I dozed off. When I woke up, she was snuggled up next to me, and she was gagging. Her body was breaking down, and I could see her dying. I started crying, petting her and kissing her - trying to make her passing as peaceful as possible. Her body went into convulsions, her eyes glassed over, she was gasping for air. And within a few minutes, she was gone. I held her for I don't know how long, rocking my sweet little baby in my arms, covering her with kisses. It was so hard to let her go. She was my best friend. What we had experienced together could never be put into words. She had taught me something so valuable about unconditional love and appreciation of life. She had never once complained or acted anything but joyful and grateful. She had shown me what it really meant to not give up on those you love. She had shown me that no matter what happens to you in life, there is always tomorrow. We had fought this fight together. We were a team, a partnership, a family. She was my soul mate. She was the canine version of myself - strong, tenacious, determined, willful, passionate, adventurous, courageous, stoic yet full of love and compassion and joy. She was a pit bull with a heart of gold. She had been through so much - neglect, abuse, tragedy. The things she had seen and experienced were unspeakable. Yet she had nothing to offer but love and kindness and inspiration - to humans, to her animal siblings, to anyone who needed a smile. She would touch people wherever we went. She always had kisses to offer and that sweet, intelligent, soulful look in her eyes. She had made a difference in my life and in the lives of many others. She left a piece of herself with whomever she met. She may have been a "lowly" dog, a maligned pit bull, a handicapped pet, but she was my soul mate. She had been brought to me for a reason. And without her, I have no idea who I would be today. I had always imagined she would be here to celebrate the release of her film - to make appearances at events, to be on interviews with me on TV, to bask in the glory of her new-found fame. But it was not meant to be. I was left to complete this puzzle on my own. It became very clear to me that her mission was far greater than we had ever conceptualized. Coral would not touch only a handful of people in passing. Her movie would not be a small affair, limited to a few film festivals and such. No, Coral was destined to become an icon, like Lassie or Benji or Morris the cat. Coral's story would touch people all over the world. Her experience was not the anonymous story of one little dog. She was bigger than that. Her story would serve as a resource for people who face similar challenges with their beloved pets. Her story would stand as a testament to the meaning of love. Her story would transcend dog-lovers and animal-lovers. It would touch anyone, anywhere who has ever had to overcome. And most importantly, Coral would stand - forever immortalized on video - as an Ambassador for her breed, the pit bull. She would be a representative for all the world to see, a sweet-natured pit bull with nary a mean bone in her body. With all the horrible things that are done to pit bulls, the fighting and abuse, and all the negative images and stories we are fed by the media, Coral would be an example of how special these dogs can be. And she would help change the public's misperceptions about this abused and neglected breed. In fact, Coral would save the very lives, most certainly the reputation, of her forgotten brothers and sisters. So now, more than five years after that fateful Easter Sunday, I present to you "Diva Dog: Pit Bull on Wheels." Please watch her movie with an open heart and an open mind, no matter what your opinions about pit bulls, disabled dogs or anything else. Give Coral the chance to touch your heart and allow her legacy to mean something in this crazy, violent, wounded world. Coral was my friend, and now her spirit will live on forever.