When a Sarasota deputy retires, you might expect a quiet life, maybe some travel or time with family. But for John Cox, retirement meant launching a global mission to bring mobility — and dignity — to animals in need. Since founding his nonprofit Ruck9 in 2021, Cox has provided wheelchairs to 544 animals, reaching 43 U.S. states and 18 countries. What began as a local effort to help dogs in wheelchairs has expanded into a worldwide movement, supporting not just dogs, but ducks, cats, skunks, and even a miniature zebu cow. The story is as heartwarming as it is inspiring, and it’s a powerful example of how a simple idea can create meaningful change.
The concept behind Ruck9 centers on a straightforward but life-changing tool: the animal wheelchair. These devices allow pets with mobility issues to move freely, often for the first time in months or years. Cox, a former Sarasota County Sheriff’s deputy with a 27-year career in law enforcement and education, first encountered the need when he helped a Labrador named Sandler at Satchel’s Last Resort. The funds raised through a local 5K event were enough to purchase a wheelchair from Walkin’ Pets, a company that offers them in pink or blue. That initial success sparked a broader vision.
As donations grew, so did Cox’s reach. A fundraising challenge modeled after the 4x4x48 endurance event helped him raise $10,000. His version, a 9K walk repeated every 5 hours and 59 minutes over two days while wearing a 30-pound rucksack, symbolized both his law enforcement background and his commitment to animals. I found this detail striking — not just for its physical intensity, but for the symbolism behind it. Each step represented a commitment to animals who could no longer walk on their own.
Despite early skepticism from some friends who questioned the need for such a niche nonprofit, Cox remained undeterred. “Unless you know somebody that has a wheelchair, you don’t see them all the time,” he explained. His goal was modest at first — help a few animals in the Sarasota area. But the demand quickly outpaced that vision. Thanks to social media and word of mouth, requests now come from across the globe. From Romania to Taiwan, animals once confined to crates or left to drag themselves along the ground are now running, hopping, or waddling with newfound freedom.
Among the more unusual recipients are goats, raccoons, and even a goose. Yet Cox says the experience is universally moving. “It’s beyond words,” he said, describing the moment when “the dog be the dog again, or the sheep be the sheep again.” One particularly memorable story involved a dog named Diva, once seen dragging herself through the streets of India. After receiving her wheelchair, Diva was adopted and now lives in Barcelona, where videos show her sprinting through ocean waves.
Another tale comes from Egypt, where a visiting family from Sarasota brought a wheelchair back with them. Soon after, Cox spotted their dog maneuvering confidently through the streets of Cairo. These global connections underscore the ripple effect of one person’s determination and the generosity of many donors and volunteers. “It’s just not me,” Cox emphasized. “It’s everybody that donates. It’s everybody that volunteers and helps out that is able to gift someone an animal that mobility by giving it back.”
Closer to home, the impact is equally profound. Charles Moore, who had recently lost his beloved pit bull, Gizmo, found healing through a hound mix named Mattie Mae. The dog, Cox’s 12th wheelchair recipient, had already adapted to her new mobility when Moore met her. Their bond was immediate. Moore, recovering from back surgery himself, related to Mattie Mae’s resilience. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. Their companionship now includes playful antics, like Mattie Mae stealing water from other dogs or digging holes in the yard — joyful behaviors that were once impossible without her wheelchair.
Cox’s commitment doesn’t end with a single donation. As animals grow or wear out equipment, he provides replacements. “I’ve had puppies that, as they grow, they call me back,” he said. “I get new measurements, and I buy the next size up.” For many pet owners, the cost of a wheelchair is prohibitive. Cox ensures that financial limitations never stand in the way of mobility. Even in cases where an animal is facing euthanasia, he sends the equipment anyway. “Even if it’s a day, a week, a month or a year, they’ll have the gift of mobility,” he said.
Ruck9’s mission has become not just a nonprofit, but a community. Events like the Beer Mile at Big Top Brewing and the annual SUP & RUN 5K at Nathan Benderson Park help raise both funds and awareness. Cox also continues to run a window-washing business and coach girls’ basketball, living a life that is anything but retired. His goal now is to reach 1,000 animals before reassessing. At the current pace, that milestone seems well within reach.
What stands out most in this story is the blend of practicality and compassion. Cox didn’t invent a new technology or launch a massive campaign. He saw a need, took action, and built a network of support. The result is a global movement that restores not just mobility, but joy and dignity to animals and their human companions. As Moore’s experience with Mattie Mae shows, the impact often extends far beyond the animals themselves.
