It had been a rather idyllic day, actually. We began our morning sitting on the terrace sipping fresh-brewed, homegrown coffee. We basked in the radiant warmth of the sun after enduring several sunless, rainy days. It is the rainy season after all, and the reason everything stays so viridian green and grows at the speed of light.
And then, felicitas interruptus. I heard a wheezing, hissing sound down on the plantel below us where the banana trees are growing. At first, I tuned out the noise, thinking the construction crew down the road was power washing a cement driveway or god knows what else. The daily noise pollution from that site has been debilitating, so I’ve done my best to block it out.
Then I looked down off the side of the patio and saw a rumble-tumble of black fur and heard that weird hissing noise get louder and angrier, like an irate jaguar or puma. K called out to me from the far side of the yard, asking if that was the dogs. From the ball of black fur, I thought it was our two preciosos playing like they do day-in, day-out.
I lost sight of the furball, until K spotted Rascal walking slowly up through the vetiver to the house. I took a closer look and saw that he was dripping blood from his neck. I screamed “He’s bleeding!” and ran down the path to his rescue, K not far behind. I got to him first and saw his face flapping back and forth and his chest gushing blood. I wrapped him in a beach towel and headed to the car.
We couldn’t find Phoenix but knew we had to get Rascal to the vet before he bled out. We hurtled our little Zebra four-wheeler to the caretaker’s house and asked Ronald and Patricia to please find Phoenix and help him if he was injured. We then sped faster than we (meaning K) ever had down the mountain to the vet.
We ran into the clinic yelling “emergency” and the sea of waiting customers parted and the staff raced to our rescue. One look at Rascal and they rushed him into surgery. Then the call came from Ronald that Phoenix was in bad shape, too. Back up the mountain we flew, wrapped Phoenix in a packing blanket to staunch the blood, and returned to the vet, who had called in two more surgeons to help save our babies.
The silence and loneliness in the house, while the pups were in surgery and recovery, were almost too much for either of us to bear. K turned to me at one point and said that he now knew what it had been like for me those long hours and days after he’d been shot and rushed into surgery.
So, this flash story has a happy ending. Both dogs survived their respective injuries and are recouping at home with handkerchiefs tied around their badly wounded necks and two human cones anxiously monitoring their every move. The pics of the wounds are too hideous to share. Just know their injuries were bad, really bad.
The consensus was that the assailant had been a pizote, but after showing our gardener the wounds, he’s convinced it was an anteater. They are much bigger than a pizote and have even longer, more deadly claws that are curved to tear apart termite mounds and defend themselves. Who would have thought?
So maybe I’ve maligned the adorable pizotes, and maybe not. The other day when the pups were still in ER I saw one in a tree off the terrace and I screeched at him in a demonic howl. K thought he was going to have to call in an exorcist. I took great delight in scaring the bejeezus out of that critter. He slid down the tree like a fireman down a poll for a five-alarm fire and disappeared with lightning speed. At any rate, we won’t kill them, but I sure as hell will scare them to death so long as my vocal cords hold up!
It’s a jungle out there, and every day we learn to respect the forces of nature with more deference and admiration.
Namaste 💔🙏
Aug. 7, 2021
BOBBI E.T.07.08.2021 21:16
Wow! Some heck of story! I looked up the creatures and they can get big! An Ant eater. Yikes. I guess one will have to walk the dogs with some kind of spray.
Judy Richter 