You know when you go through difficult times and nothing seems to matter, you aren’t able to clear your mind, you have motivation to do nothing; there’s a pit in your stomach or it feels like there’s nothing even there? Recently our family went through a difficult time around the health of a family member. It all began with the toss of a stick, which I’ve literally throw thousands of times. This story is about Maxx our family dog. Likely, if you’re not a dog owner or don’t understand how dogs really are family this won’t resonate with you, but for those of you who are, you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from. As I tossed the stick in the air something was different, it didn’t feel quite right. Maxx was full of energy as he usually is before he’s worn out after an extended session of ‘go fetch’. He attacks sticks and balls and pretty much anything you throw for him with vengeance, pouncing, and tearing and even his playful growl or snarl (which clearly makes him feel tough:)). As animated as that sounds don’t get Maxx wrong, he’s the least confrontational dog I’ve ever been around. Sadly, if a dog even slightly shows aggression he runs (literally) with his tail between his legs. As I let the stick go I began to walk toward Maxx and the ominous bouncing stick; I’m not sure what it was but something was wrong. As I get closer Maxx pounces on the stick and let’s out a cry I’ve never heard before. My walk turns into a sprint, as I approach I’m looking to what could have possibly happened. As I get closer I realize the stick is stuck in his belly. He continues to let out cries for help in surprise. I grab the stick (in the back of my mind I think of my CPR training and how at times it’s best not to pull an object like this out. Then I hear him cry, squirm and think about how I wouldn’t be able to hold him still as we travel to the vet…..crazy how fast our mind work in these circumstances). I yank on the stick, and tear out 3 inches of bloody wood that just pierced his chest. Maxx lets out one more cry before I tell him, “it’s going to be okay, the stick is gone” (like he can understand me). I look at his wound and to my surprise it’s not bleeding much, the wound actually looked like it closed which only causes more alarm and the thought of internal bleeding in my mind. I just came back from vacation, so here I was a day off the plane visiting my mother in the country and here she comes running out of the house because of the startling noises from our family pet. I tell her to “get the car, we need to go to the vet”. So picture this, mom is running to get the truck, my 90 yr old uncle (who is visiting) is moving as fast as he can to get to the truck, I’m trying to calm Maxx down as he’s limping towards the vehicle. I pick Maxx up and put him in the truck, he’s laying on his side (the one that isn’t punctured) with his head on my lap. I’m talking to him the whole time letting him know he’s going to be okay. At this moment I have flashes of being on the high school football field when one of our players takes one heck of hit. I happen to be the closest person as he goes down, his collar bone popped (although we didn’t know under his equipment), he’s screaming at the top of his lungs and there I am on a knee telling him that he’s going to be okay, having no idea what’s wrong. Maxx is panting at an extreme rate, my mind is racing as fast as his heart is beating. I know full well it happens to be a holiday and there’s a good chance no vet is at the office; is there internal bleeding, how much pain is he in? What felt like the longest ride of my life driving down the country roads turned out to be 15 mins. We arrive at the vet’s office and sure enough no one is there. I’m calling around, mom is clearly emotional and Uncle Adam as sharp as he still is seems to be a little confused. I find out the closest vet available is 45 mins away. Wondering what we’ll do next, not sure how much time Maxx has, the Vet happens to pull up to his shop. He takes him inside and let’s us know he’s stable but doesn’t know how ‘bad it is’ until he opens him up. If that wasn’t hard enough to hear, he then tells us we’ll have to euthanize him and keep him over night. I’m laying on the floor next to Maxx in the office whispering to him as the vet is talking. The vet then injects a needle that will soon put Maxx to sleep. I can’t help the fear from flooding my thoughts of wondering how bad it is. As Maxx looks into my eyes with his head on my arm, it seems like he’s looking into my soul, his eyes slowly start to flutter closed and I wonder if this is the last time I’ll see them open. I wonder if the vet hears panic in my voice when I ask if hes supposed to be breathing this slowly. I wonder if my mom knows Im secretly leaning so close to make sure I can still feel Maxxs breath on my cheek. One of the hardest things I had to do was listen to the vet say ‘you’ll have to leave him with us now, we need to do our work’. Walking out of that office was more difficult that I can explain. It makes me think of the difficulties of a parent. I don’t know how they do it to be honest, I don’t think I’m strong enough. The next day I’m sure we all try to do something to keep our minds occupied but nothing works, we’re all separately waiting by the phone to hear when we can see Maxx. The next couple days are difficult but Maxx pulls through and although it’ll take a while to heal, he’ll most likely be chasing maybe balls instead of sticks before we know it.
Posted on: Tue, 19 Aug 2014 03:05:10 +0000
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