The Dog With No Name

It was the end of the working day. I can’t remember how many cats and dogs we had neutered that day but it was a considerable number and we were packing up when she was brought in.

She was a stray, had no microchip, no identification and had been found in a field. She was a large dog roughly the size of a German Shepherd, mainly black with a badly matted, dirty coat. She was obviously not in the first flush of youth, dreadfully thin and looked as if she hadn’t eaten in days. This, however, was the least of her problems. A cursory examination revealed that this poor animal was heavily pregnant. Green discharge leaked from her vulva, a dead puppy was stuck in the birth canal preventing her from giving birth normally, the smell was dreadful, her toxin levels were undoubtedly off the scale, she was so exhausted she could barely stand and her eyes said it all. Death beckoned and for this miserable creature, I have no doubt that for her she would have welcomed it as a merciful release. The only good thing in her favour was that this particular veterinary surgeon was an expert in neutering and despite her youth vastly experienced.

Now the vet that day won’t thank me if I reveal her identity but for those who inhabit the world of charity vets, you will know who I refer to by the sobriquet The Extra One.

A Different Type of Vet

Now, this particular veterinary surgeon was somewhat different. Unlike many of her colleagues, she was neither vegan nor even vegetarian, she smoked, albeit outdoors and enjoyed a glass of wine. Not for her activities such as knitting, reading or similar relaxing activities. One of her leisure pursuits included crewing yachts. Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I just don’t do boats. Like aeroplanes, I consider very large ships an essential form of travel, particularly where I live on a Greek island. We catch ferries just as others catch buses or trains but the idea that you would go into a vast expanse of ocean aboard what was little more than an enlarged bathtub, being propelled by a glorified bed sheet was not my idea of fun. This, however, was fairly mundane compared with her other relaxing activity.

Bungee jumping!!

Yes, throwing herself into infinity connected to a piece of extra strong knicker elastic was her way of releasing the pressure of her daily life. What is not well known is that she is pretty good in the driving department, but that is a story in itself. Maybe another time. With a career as a death-defying stuntwoman an option this was a vet who showed no emotional reaction to what she was facing. She knew that this was not going to be easy and the outcome uncertain. Just a glimmer of a smile and an imperceptible nod with a quiet.

“Let’s do it.”

With the dog at death’s door, there could be no delay, she was anaesthetized, and the procedure started. The puppy stuck in the canal was removed and sadly the operation showed another nine dead puppies inside. Her membrane colour was horrendous, a stark deathly white instead of a healthy pink, her breathing laboured, occasionally stopping momentarily giving me a minor cardiac arrest as I tried to administer the correct dose of anaesthetic…

The rest was just a blur as speed was essential and the final stitches were inserted. Massive quantities of antibiotics were given plus pain relief. As I surveyed the sleeping dog I wasn’t hopeful. I considered her survival chances as between negligible and zero.

The Waiting

That evening I went to bed with a feeling of foreboding.

As I opened the door the following morning I fully expected to be met with a dead dog. There she was, lying prone, just as I thought she would be but as I approached she shuddered, raised her head, staggered to her feet, swished her tail, tipped her head to one side and had a look that said it all.

“Well that was a bit rough, how about a bit of breakfast?!!”

These events are sometimes characterized as miracles. Well, if there was the influence of a higher power that day it is way outside the breadth of my knowledge or understanding but what I do know is that in a career that has included thousands of surgical procedures it was one of the most skilful pieces of surgery that I have ever witnessed.

A true master class.

Over the years I have never failed to be amazed at the ability of animals to recover so quickly from hideous injuries and life-threatening episodes.

And what happened to the dog with no name? Well, I did enquire and was informed that she was rehomed and lived out her remaining years in comfort.  I never did find out what name she was given but was especially delighted that after her ordeal she finally knew love and security. I guess the name Lucky wouldn’t have been out of place!!