Hairy Dogger

Was it the perfect opportunity, or was it the perfect storm when the situation presented itself? 

The front door was ajar, and the front gate was not securely closed. With a bit of manipulation, Lucky, our golden retriever, was able to open them both, setting not only himself loose, but his sidekick Socrates, a Jack Russel terrier mixed with every kind of dog. 

 Freeeeeedom! Socrates chased after Lucky into the night air as fast as his little bowed legs would take him.

 Within seconds, Socrates’ freedom was cut short. His neck was in the jaws of a coyote. Then a second coyote dug his teeth in and punctured his side. Poor Socrates let out a horrible yelp, trying to break free. The coyotes howled in return, rejoicing in their catch.

 I’m afraid Socrates’ nemesis, our cat, might have had a paw in this, “Over there, get him, not me.”

 It was not meant to be on this night. Hearing his cries for help, Lucky charged toward the coyotes. They dropped Socrates and ran off into the darkness. Lucky guarded the driveway while Socrates slowly hobbled back toward the opened gate.

 Inside the house, we heard the commotion and came running out to find the wounded dog. 

 I grabbed a wet towel and began to clean his wounds while he huddled next to me on the couch, “Socrates, how did this happen to you? Are you okay?” 

 He looked up at me with eyes that said it all. “My entire head was in a coyote’s mouth minutes ago. He was going to eat me!”

 His wounds weren’t too deep, the bleeding stopped, he appeared to be okay. But, the next day he was moving gingerly. I decided to take him to the vet to have him checked out. Trying to get an appointment was next to impossible. His regular vet couldn’t take him until next Thursday, and emergency hospitals had a wait time of 8 hours. I made random calls to various vets without any luck. 

 On my last attempt, after I told the nurse what had happened, she said, “oh, my. Let’s see, what’s your name?” 

 I gave her my information. 

 “You already have an account with us,” the nurse informed me. “Come right now.”

 I was shocked. I had never heard of this pet hospital before today. But there it was in black and white.  

 “So, when it happened, what did you do?” the kind veterinarian asked me.

 “I washed the wounds thoroughly with hydrogen peroxide, put Neosporin on them, and fed him bacon,” I answered.

 She smiled politely, “You mean bacon-flavored dog treats.”

 “No,” I replied, “real bacon. Because BACON MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!”

 I don’t think she agreed with me. “After two coyotes attacked your dog, your remedy was pork bacon?”

 “Yes.”

 Apparently, the veterinarian had something more robust in mind. While we were there, all his wounds got a deeper cleaning, and antibiotics were administered. The veterinarian said Socrates was the bravest dog she had ever seen. She has never seen a dog survive an attack by one coyote, but two? Inconceivable!

 Hearing the word brave, Socrates’ ears perked up. There would be no living with him now.

 People were saying in hushed tones, “To Socrates – the dog who lived!”

Live with waffletude

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