- Fish & Ponds
- Wild Side
|Written by Stacy Mantle|
|Saturday, 05 December 2009 03:05|
A few years ago, my husband and I got a new dog. We obtained this puppy, whom we christened “Cheiss,” through a series of serendipitous events – more specifically when Sam, my husband, accidentally ran over the little guy with his car.
This event was unusual to say the least, and occurred when the puppy bolted across six lanes of traffic, moving at roughly 45 mph,and darted directly under Sam’s vehicle. So, the running over part was a bit inevitable.
(There is an argument that Cheiss threw himself under the car because on some level, he knew his situation couldn’t get much worse and in the process won the equivalent of the doggy lottery, but we’ll never know for sure…)
Needless to say, my husband was devastated. And so, he frantically called me from his cell phone after the young pup miraculously scampered off from his 45-mph collision and disappeared into the nearby desert.
"I can’t find him anywhere," Sam frantically reported. "Come help me look for him!"
As the accident had occurred on a six-lane road, near the freeway off-ramp, in the wild deserts of Arizona, we had a fairly large search area. But luck was with us that day, and we located not only the puppy, but also his homeless owners and two doggie brothers who were all living out of shopping carts on the Indian reservation.
Cheiss had fallen into a nearby canal as his homeless owners passively sat nearby, watching him struggle to get out of the water with countless injuries.
Finally, in desperation I yelled at the passive group. "Either you can help us catch him, or I can call the cops and they can help us." Cops apparently got their attention, and they finally assisted my husband in fishing the injured pup from the canal.
I glanced at Sam who was by now feeling wretched and mumbled, “I was the accident."
“He has a crushed femur, which will need to be removed,” he said with his heavy South American accent. “He’s anemic from tick infestation, has fleas, possibly tick fever, and worms. He’s severely undernourished and only weighs 12 lbs.”
Sam and I just stared at the vet, asking what he recommended, while dreading the answer.
Tristan, the coyote, took immediate offense to being moved around by a 4-month old puppy, and he began educating the pup on life in our very hierarchical pack.
Cheiss learned that "to herd" was to be forced into submission by the coyote, or be scratched across the nose by a cat; and he learned that no matter how hungry he is, the coyote always eats first. The pecking order had to be clearly established, but we can now walk freely through the kitchen area without fear of being nibbled. His shattered leg, and the empty socket that once blanketed a crushed femur, is nearly healed.
Tell us the story of your adopted pet! We want to hear all about your favorite pets and the lives they lived then and now.
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