Put the Owners to Sleep. pt 2

Mrs. Wit called me at work from the Petsmart, which was the closest vet's office. When I first answered, I thought she laughing, but she was crying uncontrollably. Funny how over a telephone, they can sound the same.

She told me that Lucy was barely alive and that Petsmart had a schedule of vaccinations to give and rashes to ointment so they just couldn't look at Lucy. We'd have to take her to the veterinary hospital, but Mrs. Wit had no car. The owner of the German hsepherd and Boxer had disappeared shortly after arrival at Petsmart.

When I made it to Petsmart, I found Mrs. Wit still crying and covered in blood. The Petsmart vets had decided to treat Lucy after all, seeing as how their 4:00 was a no-show. I went in to see her. She was on oxygen and was being given morphine and anti-shock medications intravenously. Lucy had twenty-five puncture wounds, mostly about the neck, but no broken bones and no apparent spinal injuries. Amazingly, she had no skin tearing and was not bleeding very much. But she was not breathing deeply enough to sustain herself without the supplemental oxygen.

After an hour of treatment, she was stable enough for us to take her to the vet hospital.

Once there, a vet looked her over and said that if she made it through the night, she might make it for a week and then die. If she made it a week, she'd probably be okay. The doctor noted some paralysis on Lucy's right side. Could be permanent, he said. No way to know at this point.

Mrs. Wit and I left Lucy, as there was nothing else to do at that point and we went back to the sister-in-law's house to call her in Belgium to break the news. Before we did that, we went to the place where the attack happened to look for Lucy's dog tags.

The owner came out of the house, apologizing and groveling. I'm not a mean-looking guy, but I am 6' 2" and 190 lbs, and towered over this man. I must have looked sufficiently pissed off, because he begged me not to resort to violence. I fully and completely admit to taking pleasure in his terror. But, it just isn't in me to hurt animals or idiots.

SIL was inconsolable. We did the best we could to encourage her while being sure not to mislead her. We pledged that we would do whatever we could for Lucy and take good care of her.

The next morning, Mrs. Wit had a doctor's appointment, so I went alone to see Lucy. They brought her out and laid her on an exam table for me. Lucy's little stubby tail wagged for a few minutes, but she did not move otherwise.

She was a mess. She was still bleeding and dried blood caked around her neck. Her short white fur was blackened from being dragged in the street. Her hind legs were stained with her own urine. One eye was bulged and red from internal bleeding.

As I watched her there so helpless, I thought of how smart and athletic this dog had been. She is only 18" tall, but can jump straight into my arms when she greets me. She is so smart that she can unscrew the cap of an empty quart bottle to get at a milk bone placed inside. I once saw her steal an empty core of wrapping paper and head for her doggy door to get it outside to play with. She stopped short, realizing that the three-foot tube would not fit through the small door. She dropped it, picked up one end and off she went through the opening. I know some people that would need a few tries at that.

The pictures above are Lucy on the second day, cleaned up and barely able to stand.