A Week of Balance

© 2003 Sybil Erden, Benson Arizona - Nov. 22

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This week has been a week of balance. Not "in" balance, but opposites finding rest in the uneasy fulcrum of extremes.

This week began with two horses down, rolling with cold-weather colic last Sunday. Within hours their crisis had passed...

...but that morning we also discovered our most rambunctious sheep, Walter...he-who-was-never-caught...the little brown wildling...down.

We had just been through one of our late autumn to winter cold snaps, when temperatures in the day might be 75 or 80, but then comes rain and cooler nights in the low thirties...and people as well as the nonhuman are best to stay indoors or under cover.

Walter lay under the mesquite trees in the enclosure, wheezing, nose stuffy. Calls to the Vet and a frenzied search of the infirmary supplies netted a weeks worth of antibiotics, a shot of Vitamin B, a tube of yummy Pro-biotics and a shot of Dex. For several days he seemed to slowly be coming around.

On Thursday TJ and I were driving the 26-mile trek into town. We were in part going to pick up more supplies at the Vet for Walter. In part to take staff out to dinner. Nothing is ever done just for fun.

Between mile markers 3 and 4, a bit over 17 miles from home we spotted a walking black and brown skeleton. TJ, driving, made a U-turn and pulled the car over. We were on a hilly, deserted stretch of road. Vistas ended miles away in purpling mountains. The closest habitation was, at best, three miles farther. A place of no accidental loss.

The dog bounded off, looking over her shoulder, keeping 6 or 8 feet between herself and the tall man approaching her. I rummaged through the car and my overstuffed bag for food, finally finding a napkin wrapped chunk of stale Italian lunch bread, a treat, salvaged days earlier for one or another of our dogs at home.

For a half-hour TJ and the black wraith did their dance. Two staff members, Marybeth and Angel pulled up. They told us that others in our area knew of the black dog and would stop and place pans of water and food out, but she was never caught.

On our way home, hours later, we stopped again, and joined those leaving homage of food and water. Somewhere in the dark, we knew, she hid.

At the Vet, we were told to call Fred, the Animal control guy who covered the hundreds of square miles of this portion of our rural county. The next morning we called Fred. He knew exactly where the dog was...telling us that in the past year he had picked up 35 dogs in that stretch...the dog dumping ground. Dogs, puppies, left to fend in the merciless desert. Those caught were mostly so debilitated, he told us, that they were put down. A few were placed. But, he shook his head, it wouldn't end...

Fred was wonderful, loaning us a large humane dog trap and teaching TJ how to best use it. TJ set out and spent several hours looking for the skinny girl. Several hours into his quest, he located her, baited her and caught her. He brought her home...

...and Walter kept slipping away. This morning Walter could no longer get up. Yesterday's second dose of cortisone brought no improvement. He could not raise his head. Moved into a covered stall, he slept fitfully on the ground, head on a blanket, as we sat alternating stroking his face and head, as he slipped farther and farther into his private night. We made the decision and gave him the shot. Slowly he slipped away....

And the ravens flew overhead in the wind, cawing loudly, chasing a hawk. And the sun continued to shine. Our donkey, Apple watched all of this. Walter, aged almost ten, had been in his life since the day Apple came to be with us seven years ago. Abigail the other sheep, chewed her cud, an implacable wooly stoic.

Ananda, as the black full-blooded Dobie is now named, came in weighing about 25 pounds. Several days of sub-q Normosol, four times daily feedings, gentle handling, and much needed rest are bringing a wag to her tucked tail. It will be weeks if not months before she is at full weight and has psychologically recovered from this ordeal. By today she had been wormed, given shots and a name. Tonight, Saturday, sporting a red collar with green rabies tag, she sleeps in a kennel in a warm room in our infirmary.

The balance attained. We teeter as always on the edge. No answers.