One Of Those Weeks... Part II

He stopped for a Gatorade and a burrito on the way to the EV (Emergency Vet). True story.

A freaking burrito at a time like this. Yes, I’ll admit, the burritos at Samer Express are insanely good. Perhaps even award-winning good. Avocado, cilantro, crispy rice and beans, and that verde hot sauce…hmm hmm. I’d nip my own heels for a bite of one right now.

I digress… The point is y’all should be furious he stopped to get a burrito at a time like this. Furious. But yes, I would likely have done the same thing.

He hopped in the truck, folded back the tin foil, and took a chomping-size bite before we started back on the trek.

After he licked his fingers, he made a call.

“Hey there, I am about thirty minutes away and need to bring Dirt in to get looked at. I think he might have gotten bitten by a snake, but probably not. He can be a bit dramatic.”

Did he really just call me dramatic!? I take a hit from a satan serpent, which could easily be viewed as sacrificing my own life to save his, and he calls me dramatic!? You just never really know a guy until the first snake bite.

As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, I knew exactly where we were. Dad put the radio on channel 70, Siriusly Sinatra, for Mud—he’s oddly obsessed with Frank Sinatra, which is another story for another day.

Dad grabs a green slip lead he kept from our last EV visit a couple of months ago and loops my head through it. As soon as he goes to sinch it, I let out a loud, high-pitched cry. I can’t even deny it. It surprised all of us. And it was at the same time I started to feel the pain.

The swelling had gone from my muzzle and nose to my throat, neck, and chest. And it hurt! So, dad picked me up and placed me down so I wouldn’t have to jump.

We walked into a wonderful receptionist who was expecting us.

“Welcome back, Dirt!” She said.

“Yea, yea,” I told her. “Good to see ya. How’s the family? Yada yada, let’s get to it already.”

“Give us just a second, Dirt. We’ll have a nurse come out to take you back to your room.”

I looked up at Dad, “Give her a second. I thought you called ahead. What kind of Mikey Mouse joint are they running here now?”

“I did, Dirt. It just takes a minute.”

“Oh, so now it’s minutes, huh? In a few minutes, I could be in Cow Dog heaven.”

Just as we were about to sit down, I heard the voice of an angel, “Dirt?”

“Yes, mam almighty, I’m here and at your service!” I told her.

“Hey there, Dirt!” She said with a smile. “First, let’s hop on the scale so we can get your weight, ok?”

“Oh. Sure. Why don’t I show you some other tricks? I just learned a new one. I call it ‘nip the nurse in the heel. ' You want me to show you?” She went from angel to fat-shaming demon in 2.9 seconds.

Not really. She was very sweet, but really? What does my weight have to do with my money-making facial features being decimated by Cobra venom right now?

“Now it’s a Cobra bite?” Dad asked.

“Dad, this is my story. If you don’t like it, go write your own.”

Sometimes, I have to put him in his place.

We finally got back to the examination room after the longest four minutes of my life. We answered a few questions, and then I went with the nurse to the back so they could run some tests and have the doc take a look at me.

It was easy enough. After a few minutes, I headed back to the exam room. The doctor followed and gave us the rundown.

“I have to say, I think it’s a snake bite,” she told us, sitting on the floor and petting me.

“Really?”

“I think so. I do. There are a few things that really stick out. First, the swelling. It’s signature snakey. And then the spot where it looks like he probably got hit. Where the drops of blood are coming from, again, very snakey.”

“Dang! That’s pretty cool! Finally got a snake bite on your record, Dirt.”

“Yea, how about that, bud?” The nurse also chimed in on the awkward achievement of a life-threatening episode. “The only thing I don’t know, and we likely won’t know since you didn’t see the snake, is what kind of snake it was.”

“Well, if we don’t know, let’s assume Cobra.”

“Good thinking, Dad,” I told him.

The nurse laughed. “How about rattlesnake?”

“Deal.”

“Alright, well. I want to take him back and calm him down a bit, and then we’ll need to shave a little bit of the area where the bite is and get him prepped and ready,” the nurse explained as she stood up.

“Well, alright. I guess that's that. What happens next?” Dad asked.

“Well, I want to see if we can find another puncture where the second fang might’ve gone in, and I want to monitor the swelling. Then we’ll need to decide if we should go the route of antivenom or not.”

“Sounds like it is what it is. Might as well get started.”

And get started, they did. The doctor took me back and immediately gave me something that made me feel like I was floating on a cloud of high-count silk sheets. They shaved a spot on my face and back leg and even inserted a catheter. Not the best feeling. Then, the lights went out.

It must have been a few hours later when I awoke to my dad scratching my head. I was still pretty out of it, but I do remember him telling the doctor, “Give him whatever he needs.”

“We’ll take good care of him.”

Then he kneeled down and whispered in my ear, “You’re going to be just fine, dude. I got you. Don’t worry.”

It felt good to hear him tell me those things, but the words he said next are what we dogs really need to hear.

“And Dirt, you do not need to worry about me right now, I’m good to go. I can take over guard duty for a day or two.”

Once I knew he would be alright without me for a few days, the room faded to black as I drifted off to cow dog dreamland.

What you humans need to realize is, we don’t really care about whether or not we’re going to be ok. We only care about y’all being ok. We’re meant to serve you. And when something happens to us, all we care about is the burden it places on y’all.

We have a job. And the description of that job is to be there for you, day in and day out. Good days and bad. So when we know something we’ve done has upset those who mean the most to us, it hurts far more than any snake bite.

The next morning, I awoke feeling sore all over. Turns out, they did use anti-venom. Only one vial, though. More would’ve made for a better story.

The next day or two – I was tired and sore, but other than a little fatigue, things went back to normal rather quickly.

I know—me too. Given how quickly things got out of hand when the bite happened, I thought a long, painful recovery would’ve surely been on the agenda.

But that’s life, right? It loves to throw us a snakebite every now and then to keep us honest. Sure, they’re scary and even sometimes sad. But snakebites don’t mean we should avoid exploring the swamps and forests. In fact, I would say the opposite is true. They’re meant to remind us we’re alive.

And just when we’re so sure what we’re smelling is a mole, is precisely the time life strikes you with a King Cobra bite.

“Oh, now it’s a King Cobra, huh?”

“Dad, please. This is my story.”