The Journey Continues
October 7, 2007
“I’ve got a mind like a steel trap. Slightly rusty and illegal in 32 States” – Kurt Jokela

Life with dogs is always interesting, and this week has been no exception. All the stories look like they will have happy endings.

Things started simply enough. I spoke to the junior mushers camp on Sunday about drop bags and then to the boy scouts on Thursday about winter camping and survival. Both talks went well. When you’ve been around the block as much as I have you can’t help but have good stories to suit any occasion. I love to talk about my dogs, my sport, my state, and my race. If anyone needs a speaker please give me a call.

After a training run, I turn the dogs I trust not to run off loose a few at a time, to run from the dog truck back to their houses. Monday I’m hooking up the last couple of dogs in the lot when Marti calls that she has Throttle. We have two driveways on a corner lot, an upper drive where I park the dog truck and trailers and a lower drive on the main street where Marti parks. Marti pulled up while I was unloading and evidently Throttle left the dog truck, ran to the walk and went down the stairs to visit Marti instead of turning right to the back yard and dog lot. I thought it was kind of cute; Throttle has always liked Marti, and I didn’t think any more of it.

Tuesday morning I work the process in reverse, starting with Java, Lycos, Rom, Throttle, and Blaze and then leading Mocha up to the truck. Everybody bounces around the dog truck and I load them one at a time. Throttle wasn’t there! I ran down to the lower drive calling her, but no Throttle. I looked around, but the dogs in the lot were not doing their “loose dog” bark. I grabbed Marti’s car (the trailer was attached to my dog truck and several streets are narrow dead ends) and drove the area calling – no joy. I went back to loading, hoping the other dog’s excitement would draw her back. After 10 minutes or so I heard neighbors’ dogs barking and thought that might be her. I grabbed Marti’s car and drove to the sound. I was trying to decide which road to take at the intersection when I saw Throttle trot up to the car from behind. I got out of the car and she came up to me with this “what is all the excitement about” look on her face. Dogs! So Throttle is no longer on the “trusted not to run off list” of dogs that get turned loose.

Training is very time consuming and I haven’t been as effective getting other things done as I might. Lexi Hill volunteered to help organize my days. We now train Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and every other Saturday. On days I don’t train I’m supposed to do 1 hour of aerobic exercise. Wednesday I decided to walk, and took Frodo with me because he needed the work / time with me. I had walked him before at the trail system before he started to run for me, but this was different and he panicked, trying to run off the end of the Flexi lead, dodging away cowering. I’m coaxing him up the driveway and he hid under the dog truck. I coaxed him out only to have him spook and hide under the truck again. This is that same dog who 1 hour earlier was telling me I was his best friend as I fed him. I got him out from under the truck and started down the road with Frodo balking at every bush and running circles wrapping the line around my legs. I was almost ready to put him back in the dog lot when he decided it was ok and walked the rest of the hour almost in heel position at my right side. Once he got over being silly, he was a very pleasant companion, but man oh man.

I’ve been under a lot of stress recently and know I’m not quite as on top of things as I should be, making silly mistakes now and then. In the past I’ve gone off to the track to train having forgotten everything but my dogs and my sled / 4-wheeler (yes, even my parka ?. I’m at the track, just starting to unload when Marti calls me on my cell phone – I left Frodo at home! Back home, get Frodo, back to the track. Of course I’m Frodo’s best friend at home, except that all the other dogs are gone, so this is a different, scary situation and he shies away from me. We get that resolved and I hook him up to run 4 pair in front of wheel. He is back on his neckline, looking over his shoulder. He is running with Picard, my steadiest dog, with two more very steady dogs, Dijon and Keiko, behind him, but he is just worried about something. It’s just like the first time I hooked him up. I finally move him back to wheel with Throttle and move Strider up with Picard. As long as I feed Strider he doesn’t seem to mind anything else. Frodo looks at Throttle, looks back at me on the 4-wheeler, and starts to pull like a professional. We finish the run and I tell him how good he did, all the time remembering that Lance told me he would take extra effort.

Friday I’m still not up to par. I’m pretty much a belt and suspenders man when it comes to the safety of my dogs. At the start of the run I hook a snub line from the 4-wheeler to a post in the staging area, set the parking brake, put the 4-wheeler in low gear and shut off the engine. We are ready to leave Friday and as I start the 4-wheeler the dogs pull it away. I forgot the snub line and left it in neutral. Luckily the dogs know the routine and didn’t pull hard until the engine started. That could have been a long walk before they decided to quit.

After the run I set the brake and walk up to tie the front of the team off to the post we used earlier. The line feels awful light, and I look up to see the dogs pulling the 4-wheeler forward – the brake didn’t hold. I tie off the front and carefully back up the 4-wheeler, stopping to untangle dogs as I go. Mocha and Dash get tangled up front and I run up to straighten them out. It is bad enough I take Mocha, Dash, and Bass off the line and put them in the truck, planning to put them back on the line when I get everything straightened out.

I’m pretty much done up front and look back to see Basil in the middle of the team down on the ground. I run back to her and she isn’t breathing. The gangline is wrapped around her neck and I can’t get enough slack against the other dogs to get it loose. I run to the 4-wheeler, move it up 5 feet and run back to Basil, unwrapping the line from her neck. I’m used to seeing bad tangles like this and as soon as I release pressure the dog starts to breath and jumps up like nothing happened. No such luck.

Basil’s tongue and gums are gray, her body is as limp as a wet dish rag, and I can’t see any signs of breathing. I start chest compressions. After a dozen I stop and check for breathing. No sign. More chest compressions and I start praying. After a dozen I stop again. No sign of breathing. More chest compression and prayers. Still no signs. This goes on for what seems like forever and I’m tempted to give up, but keep doing chest compressions. I can see her gums and tongue start to turn pink as I work, and that gives me hope. I don’t do mouth to nose breathing because I can see the grass move from the air flowing out of her mouth with each compression. I try to listen for breathing sounds, but the other dogs are distressed and making too much noise.

More chest compressions and I see a loose hair in front of her nose start to flicker. I stop and watch and it definitely is moving, soon I can her chest start to move. I wait for her to wake up, but she doesn’t even bring her tongue back into her mouth. It’s just lying there in the grass.
I stoke her and pray some more. After 5 minutes or so she is definitely breathing on her own, but there is no other action. I look at my watch and its 1:30 PM. I pick Basil up and carry her to the trailer to get her off the grass and mud. She is still completely limp and I worry about brain damage. I lay her in the trailer bed and her tongue is still hanging out of her mouth on the bed of the trailer. At least she is breathing. I fasten a line from her collar to the trailer so that if she comes to she won’t fall off the trailer and start to load the rest of the team to take Basil to the vet.

I’m half way through the team, checking on Basil with each dog I load, but there is no change. Finally I see her try to stagger up. She is like a falling down drunk. I hold her and talk to her and slowly she regains strength. It’s now 1:45 PM. As she gets better I breathe a sigh of relief, say a prayer of thanks, and start to drop the dogs I’ve loaded to water and feed the team. Basil is up now, only a little wobbly and I slid her into her box on the truck. With everyone fed and watered I load the gear. I called Marti and she said I should take Basil into the vets for a check anyway.
When I get to the vets at 3:00 PM, Basil walks in like nothing had happened; pulling on the leash as she walks. The technician takes vitals and talks to a vet. Basil wobbles just a little, but I write it down to the stress. The tech comes back and says Basil looks good, but they would like to keep her for observation. As we discuss it Basil wobbles some and that makes up my mind. I have a 6 PM appointment to talk to the vet about her.

At 6PM the vet is gives me the lecture about brain and organ damage that occurs when the body is deprived of oxygen for more than 2 minutes. My best guess is that I took me more than 2 minutes, but less than 3 to untangle the front of the team and notice Basil. There is a steroid diuretic, Mannitol, that we can give Basil to reduce swelling of the brain, but that fluid has to go somewhere and could compromise other organs. They don’t use it without evidence that they need it. The vet recommends 24 hour monitoring at emergency care, but I can’t afford that.
The vet shows me how to check the eyes to watch for swelling of the brain. The pupils should be equal and reactive to light. Basils pupils are equal in room light and react to the hand light, but not equally. This is a change for the worse from the vet’s first exam at 4 PM and indicates swelling in the brain. They decide to administer the Mannitol and a liter of sub-cutaneous (under the skin) fluid. Basil is very lethargic and just lies there, not objecting to any procedure. This is not normal for Basil. The Mannitol needs to be given intravenously and they insert a catheter. The vet tells me that the pupil behavior confirms anoxic (lack of oxygen) brain injury, and we can infer similar injury to all the other major organs – lungs, kidneys, liver, and heart. His prognosis for Basil is guarded, but he says she will never run Iditarod again. He hopes Basil will be the exception and prove him wrong, but he doesn’t think so.

We discuss her treatment. We can administer more Mannitol every 6 hours. I can bring Basil in at midnight and 6 AM, but under the circumstances he is willing to let me administer the medication at home. They send me home with instructions to watch her pupils, if they stop reacting to light or if I see seizures her chances of survival are very small. We make a re-check appointment for 10 AM Saturday with the vet that will be on duty then. I carry Basil to the dog truck (she cannot walk) and when I get home slide her into a crate in the kitchen.
At midnight I can’t get Basil’s pupils to respond to a hand light, but they are equal in room light and dilate in the dark. Basil isn’t cooperating and I’m not sure how much of the problem is my technique. More prayers and back to bed. At 6 AM it is the same story. At 8 AM I’m up and give her 500 ml of sub-cutaneous fluids. She is looking much better and stands while the fluids drain under her skin.

At 10 AM we are back at the vets. Basil walks in on her own 4 feet, looking like a much different dog. Her vitals are normal, no fever, heart sounds strong, and lungs sound good. She has a slight cough that indicates a pulmonary edema (fluid on the lungs). With the cerebral edema (fluid on the brain) this is to be expected, but she looks awful good. We are concerned that she hasn’t urinated yet. The vet keeps her for observation and to check blood work. Her electrolytes come back normal, liver and kidney functions are normal, and best of all a patient vet tech got her to pee. Once she started it was like releasing the flood gates. And she ate! I picked her up at 2 PM and she pulled me all the way to the dog truck on the leash.

Basil slept in the kitchen again last night. The vet gave her a last dose of Mannitol at noon Saturday (the book says it’s only effective for the first 24 hours) and put her on Prednisone for the next 9 days, slowly tapering off. The vet was worried about a relapse as the Mannitol wore off, but we haven’t seen any of that. The vet commented that for a dog that by all rights should be dead, she looked incredible.

As I write this Basil is in the heat/puppy pen just inside the gate looking like nothing ever happened. She will spend tonight in the kitchen, but if she looks this good tomorrow I’ll let her sleep in the pen Monday night and then move her back to her spot in the dog lot Tuesday. I’ll watch her closely for the next week, but if I don’t see any sign of problems I’ll let her run a week from Monday (10 days after the incident) and we’ll watch her closely for signs of distress. If she looks good she can resume training. This is quite a miracle. To go from doubting she would survive to planning her continued training for Iditarod is amazing. Thank you Lord.

Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
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