This one particular post is NOT for the weak of stomach and faint of heart. It is a story, however of survival of the fittest! The summer of 2009, I was having dinner with friends and my oldest daughter and the night would go very wrong.
Just when dinner was served, I received a phone call from my very panicked husband. He told me I needed to come home immediately as our dog, Magnum had suffered an injury and needed to get to the hospital very quickly. I had no choice but to leave my daughter behind (who resides in a wheelchair) and run as fast as I could to my van, and get home.
Ten minutes later I entered the door to my home and saw my beautiful dog in a horrible state. My first reaction was to vomit and faint, however I was quickly told to take care of Darien, who was in the bathroom hiding from the tragedy unfolding. As I was crying, my husband told me that before I got the call, this is what happened:
He and our youngest daughter were swimming and our two dogs at the time, were also outside playing. They chased each other a lot so when they began their ritual, it was never thought of as something to be worried about. Ten minutes into their swim, the dogs flew by, headed toward the trampoline. Under Derenger went, followed by Mags. A yelp was heard and Magnum then stood perfectly still.
My husband wasn’t sure at first what had happened until he moved closer to Magnum. She had apparently caught her side on a nail/bolt of the trampoline as she turned the corner and the nail won. It torn her skin from the top of her back to the bottom of her stomach and about a foot to the rear. For what reason he didn’t know at the time, there was little blood.
He scooped Darien out of the pool, put her in the bathroom, convinced Magnum to walk into the house and called me. When I saw her, she was standing there shaking with her entire side open for view. It was horrible, vicious and I was sure life ending. My husband and I got her to the car, on a blanket and they rushed her to the hospital where our vet of nearly 8 years was waiting in his scrubs.
Mags weighs 125 pounds and he knew this was going to be a tough one. Without one second to spare, she was in the operating room and hours later emerged with 200 staples, over 1,000 stitches inside and out and two drains. He called and said she was ready to come home. We never thought she would even come home, much less that night. Her main artery was missed by less than 1/8 of an inch and the only reason she escaped heaven that night.
I slept by her side, gave her meds for two weeks and she wore t-shirts to cover the drain tubes and leaking wounds that would take a summer to heal. She was 9 years old then. Today, she is 11 and 1/2 and headed back to the same vet tomorrow. She lost her older brother last May and is aging fast. She falls down a lot. Her hips are failing her. She sleeps more and more and I know the time is coming.
Barretta, our 1 1/2 year old Pit Bull is keeping her as young as she can, but even B can’t help her escape the tragedy of old age and an aging body.
I hope you enjoy the pictures of our beloved Mags and know that she beat odds like no other that fateful day. I think we have a lot of that in our family. Maybe that’s why she is our dog.