When my first boxer got older and developed degenerative myelopathy, he started losing the use of his back legs. Thankfully, there was no pain, he just couldn't walk or stand. So I got him a Radio Flyer, loaded it up with blankets and used it to haul him around the house (even at a mere 55 pounds - small for a boxer - I couldn't carry him). I'd put him in it from our bed in the morning, wheel him to the backyard, lifted his butt up with a towel while he peed and pooped, put him back in the wagon and brought him inside (he eventually lost control of his bowels, too, as the disease moved up his body). Then at night, in he'd go back to our bedroom. We did that for about 6 months before his time came. I loved him so much, I'd do anything for him. Toward the end, I was cooking him chicken, hotdogs in bbq sauce, anything it took to get some food into him because he didn't have the strength to eat kibble. I still miss him every day. He's been gone about 6 years now.