The interesting thing about life is the unpredictability.
It was Saturday night. I had gone with a friend to an art gallery show. The Hubster was home manning the fort and dog-sitting our three owners.
When I returned home about 10:30 p.m. his truck was not in the driveway. Unusual, but I figured he’d run to the grocery store.
Once inside, I did a quick head count and came up one weenie short of a full herd of dachshunds.
I went out back and called, thinking the third was outside on the scent of a squirrel.
No response. Mentally running through several scenarios of why the Hubster and one wiener would be missing brought me to the conclusion, “Something’s bad wrong.”
So I called my guy on his cell phone. Now, usually it goes to voicemail because he never remembers to turn the phone on. But this time, he answered promptly. Not a good sign.
“Where are you?”
“The animal emergency room. Charlotte was bitten by a copperhead. The vet is with her now…”
“What happened – where was she?”
“It was about nine o’clock and I heard the three of them barking in the backyard. And it suddenly got worse – and they started in with their snake bark.”
“Their snake bark?” (What the heck was he talking about?)
“You know that weird squealing noise they make when they get really upset. I knew they were on a snake so I went outside with the flashlight and saw the snake strike at Sally. Sally jumped back and the snake kept striking out. I got them in the house and killed the snake. An 18-inch copperhead.”
My guy went on to say he’d checked Sally carefully but didn’t see any indication she’d been struck. Then a few minutes later Charlotte started twisting her head and acting sick. He checked her and found her neck was swollen and bruised so he put her in the truck and took her to the emergency clinic.
“They have her on an IV and gave her Benadryl and antibiotics,” he said. “She’ll have to stay here overnight at least.” He said he’d be home after the tests results were completed.
So, I put the other two wieners on a leash, grabbed a flashlight and took them for a walk down the street. They were a little confused since they would normally go out their doggy door into the back yard by themselves. Three feet into the walk I heard a weird clicking noise and realized Sally had grabbed something in her mouth. I insisted in a stern voice that she drop whatever it was immediately, fully expecting to see a rattlesnake (I was a little jumpy). It was a cicada.
By 1 a.m. my guy was home. Charlotte should be okay.
The next night the clinic called at 8 p.m. to say we could pick her up. We would have to keep her quiet for seven days, give her antibiotics and pain meds on a strict schedule and keep a very close watch on her breathing.
We are now nine days out from the event. The medicine is almost gone. All three of our owners are their usual rambunctious selves.
And I went in the backyard this morning without my shoes.