During the long quiet evening home, a quick call is made to the school bus driver. Mutual regret and concern are expressed. Theories why Simba only recently decided to chase the bus exchanged. Apologies accepted; both for the accident and for allowing Simba the opportunity to cause it.
Now idle minds are free to ponder the decisions of the day, and question every one of them. Regardless of price tags and not including very specific injuries, Dr. Turbeville feels surgery is not always the best solution for dogs that have been hit by vehicles. She feels it usually prolongs their recuperation time.
Dr. Turbeville knows of only a few exceptions. When a dog is spayed or neutered (procedures that respectively prevent female and male dogs from pro-creating) dogs have a much easier time than humans undergoing similar surgeries. For humans, the muscles in the abdomen must be cut. Cutting into muscle is painful and muscles do not repair themselves quickly.
Dogs have an abdominal muscle structure completely different from humans. Instead of running across the abdomen, the muscles run horizontally from the legs to a vertical band of connective tissue. Dr. Turbeville calls it the “white line, “and adds that there are no nerves in the mass of cartilage and tissue. Thus it is almost as though the dogs belly can be unzipped. When the procedure it done, dissolving stitches are used to zip the white line back up.
Blood is needed for surgery, of course. The blood for animals must be donated, just as it is for humans. There are a number of different pet blood donation programs in the Midwest, but the closest one known to Dr. Turbeville is Veterinary Emergency Service (VES) in Middleton, WI.
As the evening without Simba drags on, time on the Internet seems like a good distraction.
According to information on the VES Web site (www.veterinaryemergencyservice.com), VES provides emergency and surgical services; they also operate a canine and feline blood bank. The site explains pets need transfusions for the same reasons people do. This includes surgery, poisoning, heat stroke, trauma, cancer or other disease. Currently all the blood donors are pets of VES employees, but they hope to take public donations in the future.
A few “googles” later, and it is easy to see that public pet blood donation programs are not very common. There are only two listed in Wisconsin and only a handful nationwide. Fatigue settles in after only a few clicks. Lethargically, laptops and eyelids close for the night.
Morning finally arrives; the whole house is awake. It’s 6:45 AM, and the bus isn’t here yet. Even though the office doors may not yet technically be open, staff at Verona Veterinary Services will be there. The smile can be heard through the telephone. Simba is awake, eating and drinking; he even went outside. More blood tests have been taken; if the results indicate the internal bleeding has stopped, Simba will come home tonight. Great news to share with classmates – and most importantly the bus driver.
As the day unfolds, Dr. Turbeville sends word the test results reflect good news. Simba is still anemic, but his cell counts are on the rise. This indicates the internal bleeding has stopped and his body is re-building his normal blood supply. She wants to watch him a few hours for possible reactions to medications, before Simba is picked up. The vet cautions that Simba is not completely through the full 48 hour period of most concern. However, she knows he will be more comfortable at home. So will his owners.
Arriving to pick him up, Simba recognizes the voices at the main desk. It triggers a forlorn howling; “take me hooooome!” With a giggle, the veterinary technician leads the way toward the sound.
“Frankenstein’s dog” awaits us. A classic white plastic neck cone prevents Simba from licking the staples and myriad of other mended wounds. At first he doesn’t move, but lays on top of the blanket brought from home. His black and medicated eyes stare up oddly. Then there is recognition. He struggles to get up – and succeeds. Just like the B-movie monster, Simba marches stiff-legged forward. It is hard to know if it is more appropriate to laugh or cry. For now, everyone opts for the former.
Once home, he must be kept calm for at least a week . He is not allowed to climb stairs, jump or do any activity that may cause him to stretch his abdomen – and thus strain the recovering internal organs. Also, he is not allowed to herd children, birds, cattle and certainly not vehicles! In short, he must be kept from acting like a border collie until he is fully recovered. The task is not easy.
Simba is lead out of the Vet’s office via a cement ramp to the parking lot. Everyone halts and stares at the car door – no stairs also means no jumping up into the car seat. The strongest of Simba’s owners lifts him like a calf; hugging his arms around all four legs so the dog’s tender abdomen won’t be squeezed or stretched. Once in the car, Simba uncharacteristically falls asleep.
The crunch of gravel under the car tires pops Simba awake. His hind legs strangely still, he stiffens and pushes his front legs until he is propped up enough to peek out the window. A short whine and twitch of his tail communicates his pleasure at arriving back home on the farm.
After he is lifted out of the car, Simba is paraded around to the back door. Two pieces of 3/4-inch plywood have been leaned against the steps. He struggles up the make-shift ramp and into the house. Upon reaching the first piece of carpeting, he lies down and is once again asleep.
Almost instantly, twitching of paws and muffled whimpers proclaim Simba is dreaming. Is he reliving the accident? Maybe the vet visit is playing out in his mind? Or perhaps he is chasing squirrels – it is decided not to wake him. He needs his rest.
He also needs pain medication, antibiotics, and must to be taken outside frequently due both to injuries and the effects of the medications. With acres available for roaming, it is strange to take him out on a leash. This is the only way however to keep him from raccoon wrestling at night – a previously frequent past-time.
Timing is everything; Spring break affords the opportunity to care for Simba properly through the most critical period of his recovery. While younger collegiate companions dig their toes in the sand of some southern shore, around here it’s more satisfying to warm one’s feet under a dozing dog. It’s comforting to both dog and owner to be near each other.
For the first four days, Simba needs coaxing to do just about anything but sleep. Teasing that he is a “spoiled rotten dog,” water and food are brought to him. Treats of trimmed meat scraps or cheese inspire him to get up to go outside. As we stand in the backyard sun, a squirrel scampers across the yard. His ears perk up, but he doesn’t make any effort to follow.
Back inside, he is unusually quiet. The normal sounds of farm life, formerly cause for great excitement, are no longer note-worthy. Trucks and tractors come and go without announcement. The only sounds are the occasional groaning sigh, and the clip-clip of his nails across the hardwood floor as he moves with the sun from one nap place to the next.
Because Simba is normally outside so much, his nails (or claws) rarely need manual trimming. His constant running and (sometimes infuriating) digging keep his paws manicured naturally. There is a blood vessel in each nail that must be avoided when trimming a dog’s nails. The thought of accidently snipping one, and causing Simba further injury, is not pleasant. The household agrees it can wait until Simba next visits his Vet.
Suddenly the room resounds with a frantic canine announcement, “Bark, bark, bus bus bus!” Simba’s voice has returned. So has his youngest care-taker. Today, and from now on, Simba will greet him inside the house – far away from the bus.
The bedtime routine temporarily changes after the accident. With a pat on the head – and sometimes an extra bedtime snack biscuit – Simba is left downstairs on his cushy pillow. Even though he has been content to convalesce on the first floor, two kitchen chairs block the stairway. There is still a worry he may re-injure himself through the climb.
A week after the accident, the first thunderstorm of the season races through the night. In the morning, Simba is found on the landing outside the bedrooms. He looks up, tail a-wagging with his accomplishment. There is only one problem; Simba can’t get back down on his own. Good-natured grumbling and a strong back carry him back to the first floor.
Incredibly, the chairs are still in place at the bottom of the stairs. The secret to Simba’s assent will never be revealed. The chairs are returned to the table, and soon the Houdini of hounds is timidly traveling in both directions. Down is definitely tough, but he can do it.
As time moves forward, Simba gets stronger and some of his agility returns. Food and water are eaten voluntarily. Inside, he returns to a favored perch; a window seat with a view of the bird feeder. The plywood ramp is returned to the shed, and he is allowed outside without a leash.
Squirrels and raccoons are irresistible again, but the chase may forever be futile. Simba’s rear hip joints are still a bit crooked and stiff; it is as though he aged significantly. Capturing critters is beyond his current capacity.
Perhaps the warmth of summer will loosen his knots and replenish his speed. For now however we are all content to simply have him with us.
Simba stretches in the springtime sun, and exhales his agreement.
Torque Writer (TM) This work is protected by US Copyright law, and may not be reproduced (wholly or partially) without the written consent and signature of the author, Rebecca L. Olson.
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