The Dogs of Deer Mountain - Part Two
by Sandy McCollum
(Editor's Note: This is a true story, not a work of fiction. If you missed the first installment of this story, you can find it in the archives on the features page.)
He stepped on the ice and immediately slipped. We could hear his tags
jingling and his claws frantically scraping the ice as he let out a little
yelp. Then he was gone in the darkness. We heard him crash through brush as he fell, and his high-pitched yips and barks of pain as he tumbled down the side of the mountain.
I screamed his name several times, crying, my mind supplying the images of what I'd just heard in the dark woods. I'd had Bub for 12 years and didn't want to lose him or let him die alone in the cold darkness. I'd seen this cliff in the daylight on the way up, and my mind kept picturing him lying injured in the snow below where we couldn't help him.
The kids started asking what happened because they couldn't see. They began crying and I couldn't stop. This was the death of a beloved family member. It happened so fast. I felt around for Rosie to make sure she was still with us, and she was. I tried to listen for sounds of life in the darkness below, but heard only my children crying and the wind rushing through the tree tops above us. The men were silent, and I was beside myself with grief. I couldn't leave.
Part Two--
It took Michael and Ryan several minutes to convince me we could do nothing about Bub.Instead, they pointed out our main concern should be getting the kids home safely. I wouldn't agree until Ryan promised to return with a good flashlight that same night and find him. Even if Bub was no longer in his body, I didn't him left behind to be picked at and eaten by the wolves and ravens.
Reluctantly, we continued our race for safety. Michael crossed the ice pack first on his knees, holding Rosie with him. Then he yelled for me to send across one child at a time; he'd grab them from the other side. His voice calm, he instructed us how to proceed as we blindly crossed the ice pack.
After a lot of coaxing, Jessica went first, tears still flowing over the loss of our family pet and the fear she might fall off too. She took a slow, tentative step onto the ice, her hand grasping mine firmly. With the other, she reached out toward her father; but couldn’t grasp his outstretched hand, she was too small. She would have to let go and take a step to reach him.
"I don’t want to, Mommy. What if I fall and slip like Bub?"
"You won’t fall. Just do what your father told you. Take it nice and slow," I said, offering a silent prayer for help.
As soon as I let go. Jessica froze with fear, only able to cry as she stood on the ice flow. Michael yelled at her sharply, snapping her into reality and she gingerly took a step, feeling his hand waiting for her, and he pulled her across to safety.
Next was Katie, two years older than Jessica, but no braver. Neither was I. My son took my place getting Katie onto the ice, as he is stronger and bigger than I, and we both thought it would be safer. I was glad he was with us; many times I'd had to rely on his strength to help me achieve something that came so easily for him. He went further than I, and stepped out on the ice with one foot, holding Katie as she reached out for her father's waiting hand.
Next was T.W. A proud boy scout, he’d had some training in conditions like this, so he wasn't as afraid, and it seemed like he ran across the ice flow, nearly bowling Michael over as he collided blindly into him on the other side.
Then it was Ryan's turn.
Ryan sat down and removed his boots. "During training, Mom, the instructors said that sometimes when you're crossing ice unprepared, it's better to be barefoot. You’ll get more traction because you can feel where to step and mold your foot around the terrain surface," he said. Then he was gone.
It sounded like asking for hypothermia to me, but he’d convinced me that if I just put my boots back on right after I crossed, I'd be fine. I did as he said.
Alone now, I put one foot on the freezing cold ice and reached out for Ryan’s hand, but I couldn't find it. I took a deep breath and
stepped up with my other foot and my hand found his. My son was right; I could feel the shape of the ice with my feet and felt as if I had a good grip under my body weight. I made myself take another step and slipped, pulling on my son's arm as I fell, causing him lose balance too.
I slid toward the edge of the cliff, propelled by the momentum of my fall. I rolled over on my stomach as my hands grabbed at the slick surface seeking purchase, anything to break my descent, I heard my girls screaming and my son asking if I was allrightA small branch on the side of the ice flow stopped my fall for a split-second before my weight pulled the small bush out of the wet ground and it came with me.
"Michael," I screamed as I slid backwards on my belly, feeling the edge under my knees as I slid part way off!
I didn't want to die this way, not in front of my children, even though they couldn't see me, and I didn't want to fall on Bub. They cried louder and screamed for me, unable to see what was happening.
I found a nick in the ice with my left hand and somehow, I managed to hold it with two fingertips. As I searched for another safe hold with my right hand, I felt the left one slipping from the glove. I couldn’t hold my body weight with just two fingertips. I was going to die any moment and I knew it. All I could do was call for my husband, who still couldn't see me.
Before I could find another hold, my hand slipped out of the glove and I started sliding backwards again.
"I'm going over!" I. I felt my thighs, then my hips, then my waistline, and finally my ribs slowly slipping over the edge, all dangling over the side as I clawed and grabbed for anything to hold onto in the darkness.
Just as I started to complete the fall,one strong hand grabbed my arm, slowing my descent before it lost it's grip. Then another hand grabbed at my coat sleeve, barely stopping me from disappearing over the edge. I hung there in the blackness by one arm of my coat, swinging my feet and free arm for something to step or grab onto, but nothing was there but ice.
The two men pulled me back onto the trail like a sack of potatoes. I was so scared and exhausted, I lay on the ground shaking and catching my breath. My kids were still crying and I could tell from my son's voice that he wasn't far from it, if not hiding his tears already.
"I'm okay," I assured them, not quite believing it myself. My son had my boots, and I was thankful for that because I didn’t relish
continuing down the frozen trail without them. Now all I could think of was poor Bub and I couldn't help but let out tired tears and sobs and I screamed his name out loud. Nobody made a move for a few moments, in tearful reflection of what had just occurred.
I felt a dog's warm tongue give a quick lick to my face as I laid there sobbing. I thought it was Rosie, but when I put my hand on the dog. I could tell by the height it was Bub. He'd made it back up to us.
Tears of relief replaced the tears of fright. I sat up and felt his body for broken bones. He was wet and had sticks in his fur, but he seemed okay. I hugged him and cried a little more. The kids all talked to him and he walked from one to another, getting free
love pats.
After I quieted down and put my boots back on, we continued, only this time my son brought up the rear of the line, as it made him feel he could help me better from behind me. It made me feel safer, too.
It dawned on Michael that Bub had made it back to us in pitch blackness. The dogs could see better than we could in the dark. He told us to stop and he removed the elastic bands that held his pants in his boots. Taking Bub's collar, Michael wrapped the elastic band around the collar and hooked it, forming a makeshift lease. He did the same with Rosie's collar, then led Katie, Jessica and T.W. to the dogs, instructing them to hold on and let the dogs guide them. He walked in the front of the line, then Bub with Katie and Jessica, and Rosie with T.W., and then myself and my son. Bub was a good dog and would stay with Michael if told, and he did.
We came to an apparent sharp turn in the trail, evident by the bushes we'd run into. Not sure of the exact angle of the trail, Michael let the dogs go first with his hand on Bub's back, until we could tell which way to go, then took the lead again. I heard Michael ask Bub if he was limping and the kids answered that they thought he was hopping on one leg. From there it was
a wide, easy walk only about a quarter mile to the trailhead, and there were no more ice packs or cliffs.
Closer to the bottom, a little light appeared under the rain forest canopy, and we could almost see. Just a few more yards and
we'd be in the open again, but we didn't slow our pace. We wanted out of the dark.
We walked out of the woods and saw our car. I looked at my watch and had to wipe mud away to read it. It had taken us three hours to come down that mountain!. We knew T.W.'s mom would be worried, and we pushed our tired bodies into car. Bub was
usually the first to hop in but this time he waited for us, and I didn't think to notice until he refused to get in.
I tried and tried to coax him, but he wouldn't jump in. Michael reminded me that he'd thought Bub had been limping, so I got out of the car and tried to coax him into the front seat, a favorite place for the large dog. Michael started the engine and turned on
the lights and I could then see why Bub wouldn't jump into the car. He couldn't.
Bub’s right rear leg was badly cut. The wetness I'd felt on him when I examined him on the trail was blood, which I couldn’t see in the darkness. In the headlamps of the car,I looked at my hands. What I had thought was mud, was not.it was Bub's blood.
I still tear up when I think of how he led us to safety when he was so badly hurt himself, and never even let out a whimper!
Michael got out of the car and looked at the dog's leg, and while I tried to comfort Bub, he got out the hatchet and cut and split a small branch for a splint. We tore up a blanket we had in the car for a bandage, and my son fashioned a suture out of a fish hook and some four pound test line. Our first aid kit had hydrogen peroxide in it, so we poured it on the wound to clean it. Michael stitched and splinted Bub's leg right there while Ryan held the dog still, then liftedBub into the car when they completed the task.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, a state trooper pulled in. A rescue truck and two more state troopers also passed by, and we wondered if they were looking for us. When we pulled up to T.W.'s house, his mother met us on the porch in tears. Angry and relieved at the same time, she hugged T.W. and yelled at us. She'd been worried sick about her only child on that dangerous mountain in the dark and called the state troopers. We'd been right, they were looking for us. She called again and told them we'd arrived safely home.
We got to our house and dumped our gear in the mud room, every one of us exhausted. We dropped our tired bodies on the couch and living room floor, talking about our dangerous adventure, and I thought again of my poor dog falling down that cliff. I rechecked him for injuries and hugged him tight, making a mental note to call the vet in the morning. What a great dog we
had!
My kids came over to give me tear-filled hugs, relieved after thinking they might have lost their mother and their dog, who was at my feet. Rosie laid next to Ryan on the floor, and none of us spoke for some time. So much to think about and nothing to say.
I quietly thanked my Maker for giving me my husband, son and my dogs, who saved our lives. I surely would have died up there on that mountain if my son had not saved me at the cliff, and if it weren't for the dogs' good eyesight and selfless sense of devotion, we might have all died that night.
After a lengthy silence, Jessica was the first to speak.
"Mom, maybe we should go back up tomorrow and get Fred, so he doesn't starve to death up there," she said with a concerned look on her little face. We all looked at her, but nobody answered. We didn't need to. She just hugged me tighter and laid her head back down on my stomach.
We learned an important lesson that day. Even if we plan to be home before dark, we'll take all our gear anyway! You never know when a dog might come out of the woods and take your neighbor's lunch box, and you'll need everything you have!
Summer Heat Can be Dangerous for Your Dog
By Warren Richardson, Executive Editor
It’s the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, but while we humans may enjoy those laid-back three months, they can mean sudden death to a dog left in a vehicle.
Summer means an increase in unfortunate - and totally preventable - dog deaths from heatstroke because they were left in a car. (And not only is it dangerous to leave a dog in a car, in some places it's against the law.)
A dog's normal internal body temperature ranges between 100.5 degrees to 102 degrees Farenheit. When excess heat builds up in a dog, it pants to rid itself of this heat. On a hot day, a dog must take in more air to keep its temperature constant. For this reason, a hot, enclosed space with little air circulation, such as the inside of a car, is a dangerous place for a dog, even with the window left open a few inches.
For example, if the outside temperature is 85 degrees, the interior of your car can reach 120 degrees in just 30 minutes, even with the windows partially open. A dog left in the car under these conditions will suffer brain damage or death if its body temperature rises to 107 degrees. High humidity can make the situation worse by reducing a dog's tolerance to heat even at relatively low temperatures.
Besides cars, another consideration is leaving dogs in poorly ventilated garages or leaving very young, old and obese dogs left outside on hot days. Again, they are just as susceptible to heatstroke under these conditions as well.
To prevent heatstroke, limit your pet's physical activity to the evening or early morning, while the day is cool. Never force a dog to exert itself in the heat; you may not notice that the dog is overheated until it is too late.
Signs of heatstroke include excessive panting and salivation, elevated temperature, an anxious expression, warm foot pads, vomiting and diarrhea. If you notice these symptoms, act quickly by pouring cool water over your dog or put ice packs on the animal's head. Above all, get the dog to a veterinarian immediately.
Remember, don’t let your summer fun turn to tragedy because you included your pet to a degree - some very hot degrees - without prior thought.
http://www.ygrr.org/doginfo/safety-heatstroke.html
http://www.allsands.com/Pets/summerpetsafet_afk_gn.htm
http://www.inch.com/~dogs/safetytips.html
