Page 18 of Coiled Tight
She’d better not be microchipped. If she was, and after we had to deal with law enforcement and I testified to all her injuries, we wouldn’t be forced to give her back, but it would make the process that much longer.
“Have people dropped dogs here before?”
“From time to time,” Saúl hollered. “People hear sanctuary, and they think everything goes. We have a deal going on with the shelter two towns over, and they find them a good home.”
“That shelter has room for a bunch ofnewborn pups?”
“Nope.” Saúl gave a sharp turn that forced me to lean over the dog. “No foster homes, either. We stay in touch about that kind of thing.”
We were fucked.
Well, the lion cub was already spending most of his days with the adult lions. Maybe we could repurpose that space to keep the pups—and their mama—there. Or we could move some furniture around to make one of the consultation rooms more acclimated to house them. I didn’t want them anywhere where they could get to the other animals—for all their sakes.
“Can you tell how many pups she might be carrying?” This time, the question wasn’t hollered through the open window of the truck but posed as Saúl hopped off and came toward us.
I needed a second to fight a spell of dizziness from the sudden shift in speed. “I will when I give her an X-ray.”
Could I technically know by touch alone? With some room for error, sure, but it involved applying more pressure than I was comfortable with. And I really wanted to have her on an exam table.
“Okay, help me carry the stretcher.”
Now that she was lying on the blanket, the piece of plastic underneath only caused minimal discomfort.
“This might not end well,” I warned him as I prepped with Golden’s panting breaths in the background. “The pups’ best chance is if I do surgery right away, but for her sake, I need to stabilize her first.”
And I was of the belief that the mother’s survival went first. Not that the odds were much greater in this particular case. Nature was amazing and all that, and I’d heard of even more impossible things, but I didn’t know how she’d fare the process or heal back from the anesthesia.
I wanted to get her leg fixed up, too.
It wasn’t the priority here, though, and a dog could livewith a limp. I knew a woman who specialized in prosthetics for them too if it came to that.
All fingers crossed that it wouldn’t.
“Do what your gut tells you,” Saúl said. “Best thing we can rely on around these parts.”
The phrase pulled a smile out of me. I didn’t know that we were in some western flick now, but if the shoe fit…
“Let’s get an X-ray, get her stable, and see if she can whelp them on her own. If she goes more than two hours with no puppy, then we go the cesarean route.”
Please no.
First thing was switching the gauze for a proper basket muzzle. It was too big for her, but adjusting it was easy enough, and she hadn’t yet tried to bite us, so I was crossing fingers she wouldn’t start now. Next was getting Saúl out of the room while I put on a lead apron and powered up the X-ray machine. Ideally, I’d take more views, but I settled for a side shot of abdomen, pelvis, lower leg, and her chest. At least the sanctuary had one of the machines with a foot pedal so I could do it on my own.
Thank fuck the views didn’t show more fractures or obstructions.
“All right. Down on the floor we go, pretty girl.”
She needed an IV catheter for fluids and a big, padded blanket to support her leg. And pain relief via the catheter. It was technically not recommended—it might sedate the pups and lower their chances of survival—but Mother’s needs came first.
Now it was just a matter of checking in on her and avoiding the urge to panic search through every online consult site like a newbie.
I had this.
I’d better.
It feltlike the longest birth I’d ever been a part of.
“Will you sit down, for fuck’s sake?”
