- Location
- Never Far From Nowhere
And even though I dislike dogs, I have to say I feel for this little puppy:
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http://web.mac.com/russfellows/Site_4/Welcome.html
Of X-rays and Medication:
We made a mistake, Our family that is. Okay, it is probably more exact to say I made a mistake and now I’m not sure how to get out of it. Let me explain.
Monday May 12, 2008 I had an early morning meeting at work so I had to be on the road at about 6:40 a.m. Not my usual time to be on the road. It had rained a little the night before and was still drizzling a little when I left for the shop. Before I got to Bangerter Highway I noticed several cars in front of me suddenly slam on their brakes. Then one by one they began to peal around an imaginary knife in the road, left and right. I figured that some one’s car had died, and they were all in too big of a hurry to stop.
Then there I was at the front of the line, and nope it wasn’t a stalled car, but a little black dog yelping and dragging it’s hind legs. It had just been hit and was in extreme distress. It looked like a soggy black mop in the middle of the road crying.
I just couldn’t believe no one had stopped for this little animal in agony. I put the car in park, flipped on the four way flashers and jumped out. At first I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, so I gathered the puppy in my arms. Traffic still wouldn’t stop, even to let me take the dog back to the curb so I finally decided they would be less likely to hit me and I stepped out in front of a car, he didn’t hit me.
I have to be honest, I hoped the dirty ball of black had just been stunned and when I set it on the sidewalk it would scramble away toward home. That didn’t happen. The pup still couldn’t stand. I checked it’s collar, no tags. Now what? I didn’t know, but I did know I couldn’t just leave it. So I carefully picked it back up and carried it to the car.
It was still pretty early in the morning, and there would be no regular veterinary clinic open. I took the pup home, and with my wife’s help we found an emergency clinic. With one hand on the wheel and the other stroking this shivering mangy muppet to keep it calm I struck out again. This time heading for the emergency animal clinic in South Salt Lake. During the drive the dog began to breath erratically and it tried to stumble to it’s feet several times, but those back legs would just not work. It restlessly found the arm rest close to me so I could more easily stroke it’s head.
Meanwhile, my wife had managed to get the vet on the phone, and explained the situation, and that I would be there shortly. For most people the question they asked may have seemed a little abrupt, but since I work in the service industry, I knew to ask if I would be financially responsible, at least the $70, was legitimate. Unfortunately, when I got there I was told my little ball of mud and fur was in extreme distress and required emergency care. Now the $70 turned in to a possible $500. I had all of about five seconds to decide, do we put the dog down now? Or do I see if she can be saved? I agreed and the assistant took it from my arms and disappeared in to the back.
Maybe I’m not really that great a guy because for a split second when she scurried the wet frightened ball through the emergency doors that I would simply walk out. No one else was there. They had no idea who I was, and I hadn’t filled out the paper work. Whatever the reason I stayed. The next thing I knew I pulled out the emergency credit card, and it was charged five hundred smackers.
By this time my emotions were wreaked. I guess I really am a sucker for dogs. I had called the office to flake out on the meeting, and here I was standing in the waiting room waiting for... Him, her? I still didn’t even know if it was a little male or female.
After what seemed like an eternity in the empty waiting room, it was still well before regular business hours, the vet came to talk to me. The dog, a little girl, had multiple contusions, was extremely dehydrated, in shock, but she did have a micro chip. She may in fact have a family that cared about her. She had to be on oxygen, and was sedated, but things didn’t look too bad. The vet asked if I wanted to know the status of the dog through the day, and I answered that I did. I also added that if the owner didn’t want the dog to let me know that too. Last I asked about her rear leg that based on the way she couldn’t stand it dangled, must be broken.
I left the vet feeling a little empty, but had to give the dog a quick rub to say goodbye, after all, this may be the last time I see her. Little did I know.
Back at work I was still emotionally tied to the dog and had a hard time concentrating on what I had to do, but I managed. That was until, the vet’s office called me back. Leah and I became good friends for the next few hours as she conveyed the dog’s condition and where it had come from.
The pup had been x-rayed by this time and it was discovered that she had a broken pelvis. I guess as far as dogs go this is pretty serious, and would require a pretty extensive surgery with a price tag some where north of two grand. I swallowed hard. Then the hammer. The dog’s history.
Apparently, the micro chip was put in by the original owner when the puppy was new. They, the original owner, had thought a puppy would be great for their three little kids, but like most humans thought a puppy is a full sized trained dog. Wrong. The puppy had continually jumped on the three little kids and would nip at their arms. Six months was all they could take, and passed the animal to friend/neighbor.
When owner number two was contacted, they claimed the dog had been missing for two months, and had no idea where it had been. They said she was a good dog, but had no desire now to be responsible. So the ball was back in my court. A little ball of tangled fur less than a year old.
Yes, for a grown man I am a bit of a bawl baby, heck the dog wasn’t even mine. Leah, gave me my options, claim the dog, pony up the nearly 3k (the cost continued to climb), or they would now send her over to animal services, which meant to have her put down. The decisive individual I am I requested an hour or two to chat with my wife, which I did with many a tear between us.
By this time she had involved my fifteen year old daughter and younger sons. My daughter began texting me that she would work all summer to pay for the dog’s treatment and begged me not to put her down. Unfortunately for her, I had made my choice. There was no way we could afford the ever increasing dog hospital stay.
I was on the phone with Leah sobbing that we had made up our minds. That the little dog had suffered enough. She said there was nothing left of my $500 deposit and they had actually incurred additional expenses that they would absorb. While I had the phone in one ear my wife called my mobile. She had been chatting with the people at her work, and they had convinced her that they would help get the money for the operation, whether by donations, bake sales, or whatever. Several of the guys at my work had also said they would donate to the cause. I asked Leah to give us one more hour to talk, she was more than happy to let us have that much.
My wife was convinced that this crazy little dog had been placed in my path that day for a reason. Two other families had abandoned this puppy and she was sure we shouldn’t do the same.
By this time I was too emotionally drained and suggested if that was the path she wanted to take my wife needed to phone the vet back and let them know of our decision. Or maybe I am just a bit of a coward.
Then I just waited.
Within an hour my wife called me back. She had given the vet the go ahead to keep the puppy. That some how we would come up with the now $4000 to pay for the stay and the surgery. A big chunk was lopped off by an anonymous donor who had left $500 to the veterinary clinic for a purpose just like ours.
After work, my wife and children and I were allowed to see our new addition for a few minutes. She was lying sedated and hooked to an IV in a high oxygen incubator. We could reach through an opening and stroke her gently. As expected our daughter had an immediate connection and did not want to leave the helpless puppy.
The vet further explained she had been bleeding in to her lungs, but it should heal with time. She showed us the x-rays of the broken pelvis with two broken ribs, and described the surgery. The pup would require some special care after having a steel plate inserted to mend the broken pelvis. The prognosis was good, and the surgery scheduled for the coming Friday, unless a slot became available sooner, which we could only hope would happen.
So, that is my mistake. To be a good samaritan with a bigger heart than wallet. To scoop a helpless puppy off of a rainy street, and become so emotionally attached that we could not simply let her become another statistic.
We have named her Storm for the morning she was found, the difficulties she had faced, and to match our other dog whom we have had for three years named Rogue.
We are in desperate need of help to financially take care of the needs of our little Storm. We are searching for 4000 people who would be willing to donate $1 each. (We aren’t sure just how much higher this is going to go, but we can’t abandon her now.)
Thank you.
Russ Fellows
801-964-2975
If you would like to donate you can do so directly to the vet under my name or the dog’s name at:
Central Valley Vet Hospital
55 Miller Ave SLC UT 84115
801-487-1321
Or any Mountain America or Salt Lake City Credit Union under the name Little Storm
Make PayPal donation to: russfellows@mac.com
_____________
http://web.mac.com/russfellows/Site_4/Welcome.html
Of X-rays and Medication:
We made a mistake, Our family that is. Okay, it is probably more exact to say I made a mistake and now I’m not sure how to get out of it. Let me explain.
Monday May 12, 2008 I had an early morning meeting at work so I had to be on the road at about 6:40 a.m. Not my usual time to be on the road. It had rained a little the night before and was still drizzling a little when I left for the shop. Before I got to Bangerter Highway I noticed several cars in front of me suddenly slam on their brakes. Then one by one they began to peal around an imaginary knife in the road, left and right. I figured that some one’s car had died, and they were all in too big of a hurry to stop.
Then there I was at the front of the line, and nope it wasn’t a stalled car, but a little black dog yelping and dragging it’s hind legs. It had just been hit and was in extreme distress. It looked like a soggy black mop in the middle of the road crying.
I just couldn’t believe no one had stopped for this little animal in agony. I put the car in park, flipped on the four way flashers and jumped out. At first I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, so I gathered the puppy in my arms. Traffic still wouldn’t stop, even to let me take the dog back to the curb so I finally decided they would be less likely to hit me and I stepped out in front of a car, he didn’t hit me.
I have to be honest, I hoped the dirty ball of black had just been stunned and when I set it on the sidewalk it would scramble away toward home. That didn’t happen. The pup still couldn’t stand. I checked it’s collar, no tags. Now what? I didn’t know, but I did know I couldn’t just leave it. So I carefully picked it back up and carried it to the car.
It was still pretty early in the morning, and there would be no regular veterinary clinic open. I took the pup home, and with my wife’s help we found an emergency clinic. With one hand on the wheel and the other stroking this shivering mangy muppet to keep it calm I struck out again. This time heading for the emergency animal clinic in South Salt Lake. During the drive the dog began to breath erratically and it tried to stumble to it’s feet several times, but those back legs would just not work. It restlessly found the arm rest close to me so I could more easily stroke it’s head.
Meanwhile, my wife had managed to get the vet on the phone, and explained the situation, and that I would be there shortly. For most people the question they asked may have seemed a little abrupt, but since I work in the service industry, I knew to ask if I would be financially responsible, at least the $70, was legitimate. Unfortunately, when I got there I was told my little ball of mud and fur was in extreme distress and required emergency care. Now the $70 turned in to a possible $500. I had all of about five seconds to decide, do we put the dog down now? Or do I see if she can be saved? I agreed and the assistant took it from my arms and disappeared in to the back.
Maybe I’m not really that great a guy because for a split second when she scurried the wet frightened ball through the emergency doors that I would simply walk out. No one else was there. They had no idea who I was, and I hadn’t filled out the paper work. Whatever the reason I stayed. The next thing I knew I pulled out the emergency credit card, and it was charged five hundred smackers.
By this time my emotions were wreaked. I guess I really am a sucker for dogs. I had called the office to flake out on the meeting, and here I was standing in the waiting room waiting for... Him, her? I still didn’t even know if it was a little male or female.
After what seemed like an eternity in the empty waiting room, it was still well before regular business hours, the vet came to talk to me. The dog, a little girl, had multiple contusions, was extremely dehydrated, in shock, but she did have a micro chip. She may in fact have a family that cared about her. She had to be on oxygen, and was sedated, but things didn’t look too bad. The vet asked if I wanted to know the status of the dog through the day, and I answered that I did. I also added that if the owner didn’t want the dog to let me know that too. Last I asked about her rear leg that based on the way she couldn’t stand it dangled, must be broken.
I left the vet feeling a little empty, but had to give the dog a quick rub to say goodbye, after all, this may be the last time I see her. Little did I know.
Back at work I was still emotionally tied to the dog and had a hard time concentrating on what I had to do, but I managed. That was until, the vet’s office called me back. Leah and I became good friends for the next few hours as she conveyed the dog’s condition and where it had come from.
The pup had been x-rayed by this time and it was discovered that she had a broken pelvis. I guess as far as dogs go this is pretty serious, and would require a pretty extensive surgery with a price tag some where north of two grand. I swallowed hard. Then the hammer. The dog’s history.
Apparently, the micro chip was put in by the original owner when the puppy was new. They, the original owner, had thought a puppy would be great for their three little kids, but like most humans thought a puppy is a full sized trained dog. Wrong. The puppy had continually jumped on the three little kids and would nip at their arms. Six months was all they could take, and passed the animal to friend/neighbor.
When owner number two was contacted, they claimed the dog had been missing for two months, and had no idea where it had been. They said she was a good dog, but had no desire now to be responsible. So the ball was back in my court. A little ball of tangled fur less than a year old.
Yes, for a grown man I am a bit of a bawl baby, heck the dog wasn’t even mine. Leah, gave me my options, claim the dog, pony up the nearly 3k (the cost continued to climb), or they would now send her over to animal services, which meant to have her put down. The decisive individual I am I requested an hour or two to chat with my wife, which I did with many a tear between us.
By this time she had involved my fifteen year old daughter and younger sons. My daughter began texting me that she would work all summer to pay for the dog’s treatment and begged me not to put her down. Unfortunately for her, I had made my choice. There was no way we could afford the ever increasing dog hospital stay.
I was on the phone with Leah sobbing that we had made up our minds. That the little dog had suffered enough. She said there was nothing left of my $500 deposit and they had actually incurred additional expenses that they would absorb. While I had the phone in one ear my wife called my mobile. She had been chatting with the people at her work, and they had convinced her that they would help get the money for the operation, whether by donations, bake sales, or whatever. Several of the guys at my work had also said they would donate to the cause. I asked Leah to give us one more hour to talk, she was more than happy to let us have that much.
My wife was convinced that this crazy little dog had been placed in my path that day for a reason. Two other families had abandoned this puppy and she was sure we shouldn’t do the same.
By this time I was too emotionally drained and suggested if that was the path she wanted to take my wife needed to phone the vet back and let them know of our decision. Or maybe I am just a bit of a coward.
Then I just waited.
Within an hour my wife called me back. She had given the vet the go ahead to keep the puppy. That some how we would come up with the now $4000 to pay for the stay and the surgery. A big chunk was lopped off by an anonymous donor who had left $500 to the veterinary clinic for a purpose just like ours.
After work, my wife and children and I were allowed to see our new addition for a few minutes. She was lying sedated and hooked to an IV in a high oxygen incubator. We could reach through an opening and stroke her gently. As expected our daughter had an immediate connection and did not want to leave the helpless puppy.
The vet further explained she had been bleeding in to her lungs, but it should heal with time. She showed us the x-rays of the broken pelvis with two broken ribs, and described the surgery. The pup would require some special care after having a steel plate inserted to mend the broken pelvis. The prognosis was good, and the surgery scheduled for the coming Friday, unless a slot became available sooner, which we could only hope would happen.
So, that is my mistake. To be a good samaritan with a bigger heart than wallet. To scoop a helpless puppy off of a rainy street, and become so emotionally attached that we could not simply let her become another statistic.
We have named her Storm for the morning she was found, the difficulties she had faced, and to match our other dog whom we have had for three years named Rogue.
We are in desperate need of help to financially take care of the needs of our little Storm. We are searching for 4000 people who would be willing to donate $1 each. (We aren’t sure just how much higher this is going to go, but we can’t abandon her now.)
Thank you.
Russ Fellows
801-964-2975
If you would like to donate you can do so directly to the vet under my name or the dog’s name at:
Central Valley Vet Hospital
55 Miller Ave SLC UT 84115
801-487-1321
Or any Mountain America or Salt Lake City Credit Union under the name Little Storm
Make PayPal donation to: russfellows@mac.com
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We'll definitely donate a bit too. Let me know if a PayPal account gets set up, if not, I'm assuming I can just call the vet with a credit card number??
