HAPPILY EVER AFTER
photos By Lindsay Morris
It all happened so fast; the snake latched onto Sadie’s neck! She shook her head with such force that the snake swung off and into the air. The snake was gone, but damage was done. Sadie’s throat and chin were bleeding. There wasn’t much time, and we feared the worst. We prayed that rattlesnakes wouldn’t strike more than twice, and we let Sadie continue on foot, with Matt walking in front of her and me staying close behind. The man ran ahead and the woman acted as caboose, instructing us which way to turn to stay on the trail. This worked for about another half hour (we'd been on the trail for more than 2 hours). But Sadie was slowing down. The trail was steep and the hillside was sheer from a recent fire. There was no way we were going to get out of there while carrying her at that point. So we did what we could: We cheered. We clapped. We whistled. And Sadie kept going. Her indefatigable spirit was contagious and pushed our tired bodies faster as we charged onward. It took us three hours to hike the four miles back to our car. Our plan was to drive to a bar/ restaurant near the trailhead and call
for help. As luck would have it, I thought, a ranger truck was in the parking lot. I ran inside and found the ranger who called the station from his radio. Meanwhile, the bartender had called 911. Neither the ranger nor the paramedics could help us; they would not send a medivac for a dog. We only had one option: Get her to a vet. We frantically dialed clinic upon clinic only to hear recorded Memorial Day messages as we drove 18 miles out of the San Gabriel Mountains to Studio City for the closest emergency vet. By then, four hours had passed. The next night, as we stood in front of a bloated creature that no longer resembled Sadie, a veterinarian said, “We’re running out of options.” She was hooked up to machines and vials. An alarm sounded indicating that her heart rate had surpassed 200 beats per minute. Her head was the size of a watermelon, and the swelling had spread to her abdomen. An awful smell and black fluids spewed from her mouth. The vet did not think Sadie would last the night. Still, we authorized more antivenin and a blood transfusion.
We wept and stroked her ears, the only parts of her not swollen. Sadie started to sniff my hand. I pulled off my sweater and placed it in front of Sadie’s nose as we said goodbye. The next morning’s report read that the vet had recommended euthanasia and that Sadie had then sat up and vocalized. The report went on to state that, later, when the time had come to transfer her to another hospital, Sadie had “walked to the van.” No one could believe the transformation that had occurred. Today, six antivenin doses, six blood transfusions, six days in vet hospitals, and nearly $15,000 later, Sadie continues her miraculous recovery. To help promote awareness and raise funds toward medical bills, we launched a Facebook fan page named “Smiles for Sadie,” because we never thought we’d see her smile again. Thanks to doctors, fans, friends, family, and complete strangers, it’s a miracle that Sadie survived. This dog can't stop smiling now, and neither can we.
For more information visit: www.facebook.com/smilesforsadie.
The American Dog Magazine | Fall 2011 111