2017 Nov Dec

was Maggie, pale drops of red were seen here and there, she was
injured but moving well. I kept following the tracks for some
distance; they never wavered from the straight line. Then rabbit
tracks were mixed in with Maggie’s. I came to a few feet of where
I had called Cat off the track. A few more feet and I looked up and
there in a space between two pines and a maple tree was a black
dog laying down on her chest head on her paws eyes fixed on me.
Cat had been so close! A matter of 15 more feet and I could have
been there hours earlier; if only I had trusted my dog!
I dropped to my knees in front of Maggie, tears coursed down
my cheeks; the guilt welled up in my throat almost choking me
as I repeated over and over “Oh Maggie, I am so sorry, so sorry,
so sorry!” Then I started to talk to myself, calm down, get with it,
you need to think, how you will deal with this. In a snap I was in
my thinking mind and went from the terrible guilt to the analytical
me. I looked her over, she was showing signs of shock, she had
collapsed into the rabbit trail with the injured leg in contact with the
dirty snow, her back leg was de-gloved up to the hip, the femoral
artery was clearly visible pulsing slowly as she slipped deeper into
shock. She was alive by some miracle; the artery had not been cut
when she was hit by the truck; she hadn’t torn it either as she kept
running almost a quarter mile into the bush. She would have died in
minutes if that had happened. I
continued my assessment; her
gum color was getting pale to
grey by the second, her pulse
now thready and irregular.
Nothing else seemed to be
broken. Just that ghastly leg
laid bare, every muscle and
tendon easily there to be seen.
I knew I couldn’t carry her out of the bush. I risked more injury
and she was a heavy enough girl at near 50 pounds. She couldn’t
stand as she was so weak and there was no way to get her onto my
shoulders. I took my red jacket off and laid it over her and said
“Hang on, Maggie, I will be back as fast as I can!”
I turned and half walked and ran on my tracks back to the
highway. I don’t know where the energy came from; I had been
tapping that well too much this day! I crossed the highway, and
once in the house, called my vet in the next town as I grabbed my
purse and tossed it in the van, said “I found her, I found Maggie!”
And that I was going back to get her and would be at the clinic
in another hour or sooner! I described her injuries and said that I
expected she would need her leg amputated. I got my snow float,
a sort of scoop that has a long U shaped handle for moving large
amounts of snow, or bails of hay, or even water buckets. I took
a flashlight as by now it was dark. The clouds like a thick wool
blanket prevented any light that might have come from the moon
and stars.
I rushed as fast as I could back to where I had left Maggie. She
had not moved at all, a trill of fear fluttered in my stomach; I knew
she was slipping away. I talked to her “Hang in there, Maggie; I
will get you out of here!” I slid her onto the snow float, wrapped
my jacket around her to try and keep some warmth in her body. I
pulled her as gently as I could out of the bush, avoiding fallen trees
to a smoother path. Still, time was important and I went as fast as
I could. Half way I had to stop, my heart pounding and my breath
gasping under the heavy load and the many miles I had traveled
You cannot undo what has happened,
focus on what can be done,
let the future take care of itself.
that day. I told Maggie, “No reason both of us need die out here
tonight.” After a couple of minutes I continued on. Getting down
the steep rock cut was not possible; I had to walk up the bank to
a less vertical path to the shoulder of the highway. Trucks and
cars rushed past in the dark, head lights blinding me and water
spraying as they passed. I am sure the few who saw me thought I
was some apparition in the night. A deer or some creature of the
dark woods, maybe some saw a half-crazed woman with hair flying
dressed in wet clothes, no jacket, and pulling a sled. Maggie came
to life as I dragged the metal float across the pavement, the sound
and proximity of the traffic must have given a sudden flashback to
the accident so many hours ago. I talked to her in calm tones but
went as fast as I could. I loaded her in the van on a blanket I had
spread for her, and under the garish dome light could see the grisly
condition she was in.
I turned my mind away from what I had seen, she was still alive
and I had to do what I could. We rushed down the wet dark highway
eating up the miles faster than I should have. I knew if I was stopped
by the police that I hoped one look at my cargo would have gotten
me an escort to the vet. I made it in half the time it should have taken,
and as the van slid to a stop in front of the clinic, the vet met me at
the door. Together we carried Maggie inside to the pre-op. room.
Under the critical lights of the
examination room, the vet took
in a sharp breath and agreed that
amputation was our only option.
She explained it was beyond
her skill to do the amputation.
We worked at starting Maggie
on intravenous fluids and
strong pain medications. Once
stabilized and settled into a kennel. The vet called another vet in
the city known for his excellent surgical skills and I was to drive
Maggie there for 8:00 the next morning. If she survived the night.
Yes, if.
With a final hug and a few tears I left Maggie for the night.
The drive home was slower, much of it a blur as my mind played
out the day’s events over and over. You cannot undo what has
happened, focus on what can be done, let the future take care of
itself. Maggie was a fighter. She had faced life and death before
and survived, she could do it again. I said a prayer as I sank into
my bed with a groan, the other dogs settled to hold a vigil over me
as I slept.
I woke early. It sure didn’t feel like I had slept at all. What
sleep I did manage, was broken by dreams of struggle and anguish.
I drank my tea and managed some breakfast. I arrived at the clinic,
the vet was already there. Maggie looked only slightly better than
last night, still gravely injured; she had a long journey to go. Life
was not assured, no matter the efforts or the skills of the people
involved. The roads were good and I drove as fast as I dared
the hour or so to the city. I booked her in for surgery, signed the
papers, and the vet agreed amputation was the only good option
left. The techs took my information and I was directed to call the
clinic about noon to check on the results of the surgery. I drove to
the Hall where the obedience trials were well underway. Everyone
knew about Maggie and there were many hugs and well wishes for
her surgery. I thanked everyone for stepping up and taking over
the trials as I was not going to be able to do anything. The clock
AUSSIE TIMES November-December 2017 93