I had pretty much given up hope. On the fourth day, I received a call from an Animal Control officer asking if I had found my Malinois. He was calling from the hill across the road. A neighbor had seen a brown dog, so I told him I would be right over. I met the neighbors and spent about an hour calling and whistling for Kishka. She had been seen by two neighbors running through yards and she was limping on a hind leg and wouldn't come to anyone. If it was Kishka, why didn't she come home? She wasn't that far away. Finally, I gave up and came home.
Later that afternoon I had two friends in the yard and we were talking over the situation. I called and whistled and a dog barked on the other hill. Kishka almost always barks two or three times and pauses, a trait guaranteed to foil any anti-bark collar. This dog did that and sounded so much like my dog. One friend swore it couldn't be her, but was another dog that barks a lot. The other friend said she thought she saw a brown spot down from the neighbor houses in the heavy brush. This dog barked in two's and three's, and she sounded like Kishka, but why didn't she come home if she was that close? I let it go. It probably wasn't her.
Later that night I was walking the new puppy, Sadie, and sat on the trailer in the yard, crying and worrying about my bandit dog who was God knows where. It was way after midnight, a lovely time of night. Finally, in desperation, I howled like a wolf. Kishka always howls at the sirens of emergency vehicles and sometimes we howl together. I howled again and was answered by the same mournful cry on the other hill. Other dogs might bark but no other dog would return a howl. That was my Kishka.
I was prepared to be met by "the law" considering the noise Kishka and I were making. The hell with it. I got in my car and drove down my hill to the paved road howling all the way. I stopped at the end of my drive and howled some more. I could hear the answering howl slowly coming down the opposite hill. She was moving so slow. I got back in the car and drove across the road to the entrance road on the other hill. The terrain was easier there for a dog that might be injured. We continued to howl and I called encouragement. She was getting closer and there was no doubt it was my velvet bandit. She finally came in view, hopping on three legs, very skiddish, unsure what to do. She came to me and we hugged and I cried. She nearly knocked me down getting into the car. I drove her home and, lifting her out of the car, got her into the house. Both her back legs were skinned with great hunks of tissue missing. I could see cartilage. I bandaged her legs the best I could and shot her with a half cc of penicillin. It was 0217 25 Sept 2011. I called the friend who said she saw a brown spot in the brush and gave her the news.
The next day I took her to the emergency vet, it being Sunday, I paid dearly. They took her for x-rays. No broken bones but they would have to put her under to clean and debried the wounds. They wanted a $200 deposit and I had to sign a paper guaranteeing to pay up to $713 for treatment. I get $298 a month in SS disability so I got out the plastic. They wouldn't even let me see her. I left and picked her up the next day. Her gorgeous face was hidden within a cone and her left leg was bandaged. I had to lift her into the car. The next day I took her back to be checked and learned, after insisting I was not squeamish and could handle the sight and job awaiting me, how to apply a sugar bandage. I live on a farm, dammit. I used to volunteer at vet hospitals. I've seen more gore than most. I've thrown the healthy puppies of late term spays into the trash, and gone home and cried all night over it. I've seen dogs hit and drug by cars missing most of their hind legs. I've held my hand over the mouth of a poisoned puppy to muffle it's screams because the vet didn't want the waiting customers to be bothered hearing it's suffering. I did sterile bandages on my mother when she was dying of cancer. Cut me some slack and get out of the way!
She is still hopping on three legs, removes dressings often, but the granulation is coming along nicely. I don't have two or three people holding my dog down while I apply dressings because she stands while I work, knowing that, painful tho it is, I am helping. She stands because we are connected, we are meant to be together, good times and bad, she is my Velvet Bandit and I am giving her the gift of my caring, my love through my gentle hands, the healing energy of my soul. God willing, she should recover completely. She is one very lucky, very unique dog.
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