You know that feeling when you realize that you've just made a choice that you never ever ever thought you would make in your life?
I had that experience yesterday.
Yesterday morning, due to a busy mommy's distraction and a three-year-old acting like a three-year-old, our dog, Buster, ran out the front door (which had been left open), into the road, and was hit by a car, directly in front of our house.
The terrible thing is, I didn't even notice. I was in the back room, trying to get Clark's shoes on him, when I heard Buster yelp (just one little cry) and then come barreling into our house. At first, I was just irritated that Jack had left the front door open, so I called Buster in...and then noticed that he was limping.
I took a look at his hind leg, and felt a little sick--the skin had been completely shredded off of about four inches of it.
I immediately called Steve and asked him to come home so that one of us could take Buster in to the vet. Our neighbor, who had been outside and seen the whole thing, came over and helped Steve carry Buster to the car, and that's where I found out what exactly had happened (I actually had originally thought that it was a neighbor dog that had bitten Buster). The driver of the car didn't stop (even though we live on a residential road that doesn't happen to be a through street--so of course we saw where they were parked). Believe me, I debated about walking to the house and confronting the driver, but I guess I realized that making someone else feel as terrible as we all felt wouldn't really help the issue any.
I honestly didn't think it would be a big deal--a few stitches, maybe. I guess I couldn't believe that Buster was seriously hurt, because even as I was holding the bandage on his leg, trying to stop the bleeding, he wasn't crying or whining or anything--just looking up at me with his big, sad, brown eyes, as if he knew I was trying to help him. And although I knew he had to be hurting, he didn't snap at the kids as they came up and tried patting him on the head to comfort him--he would just lick their hands, as if to show that he appreciated what they were trying to do.
Steve took him in, and because our local vet's clinic is small and not built for emergencies, the vet let Steve know that it would probably be a few hours until he could make an assessment, but it looked as though it would be pretty serious.
A few worried hours later, the vet called and let us know that he had had a chance to look at Buster's leg, and had come up with some options for us to choose between. My dad kindly came to watch the kids while Steve and I went to make the decision.
It turns out that the joint of Buster's leg had been caught under the tire of the car and scraped along the road as they had skidded to a stop, which had pretty much ground the bones to oblivion--the risk of infection was incredibly high in an injury like that, which meant that a cast, although an option, was pretty much just going to end up in him getting infected and either dying or having to have his leg amputated later on.
One other option was to take him down to a specialist in the Valley, who would perform an intense, complicated surgery on him--but that would cost upwards of $2,000, and we knew that wasn't feasible for us.
The remaining two options were euthanasia or amputation....the vet gave us the pros and cons of choosing amputation (more expensive than just putting him down, and still a risk that because of possible internal bleeding, Buster might not make it after all), and then left us alone to make our decision.
Now, you have to understand something--I grew up in the country, where if we had a dog that was seriously injured, or biting kids, or killing livestock, well, you just got rid of it. No questions asked. I can't even number the dogs I had growing up, because out there on the ranch, dogs don't last very long. While we were always taught to be kind to animals, ranch life has a lot of harsh realities. And yes, a few of our dogs were emotional for me to lose, but the majority of them were just outside dogs that I never really had bonded with, so it wasn't usually a huge deal.
However, now, having married into a family where the dogs were a big part of the family growing up, and having a couple of sister-in-laws who treat their dogs as if they were their children, well, it's been a different experience--one that's opened my eyes to the fact that there are different ways of doing things, and different ways of looking at our pets.
Buster has been a new experience for me, to be perfectly honest. From the moment we met him in the shelter (where we adopted him when he was just a few months old), our entire family just bonded with him. I know it sounds cheesy, but honestly--if we hadn't loved him so much, we probably would've gotten rid of him a long time ago. He's always been a good dog who was angelically patient with the kids, but he definitely had his issues--he was NOT quick at the potty-training; he destroyed several window screens, a screen door, and four sets of blinds trying to climb out the windows every time we left him alone; he developed quite a taste for diapers and loved to get into the diaper pails; and even though he only shed twice a year, it lasted for six months each time, and the amount of hair I have to clean out of everything is just plain ridiculous. Any one of these issues probably would have been enough for the old me to have taken him to the shelter a long time ago, and if not that, at least the logical part of me would have been relieved to be facing this decision.
But I honestly love that dog, and so, after many tears shed, much going back and forth, and several prayers, Steve and I made the decision to go with the amputation.
We've gotten a few remarks about the risks, the money, and the choice we made (half of the people we talk to can't believe we're going to all this trouble for a dog, the other half can't believe we weren't willing to go with the more expensive surgery), but I've realized that for our family, this is the right choice.
If someone had told me, even a couple of years ago, that I would be willing to pay the money and help my dog recover from surgery, rather than lose him, I probably would've laughed in that person's face. I'm a country girl, and always have been.
But when I see that face--it's worth it to me.
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