So I dashed out of work the moment my shift ended. I didn't book any appointments for this afternoon because I wanted to start my weekend promptly with a nap on the couch while Badger slept in the basement before dinner.
I was enjoying said nap when my phone ringed. Now, I might not have answered it had I not been expecting one of two things, a return call from my parents, or a call from Deb or Shaelynn to invite me out to the park for a walk (hint hint). Unfortunately it was my co-worker.
The story was that a dog had just been dropped off and was now "running the kennel" she'd managed to get a leash looped on him, but couldn't actually hold the leash without him showing his teeth. The dog in question was a big german shepherd, so I wiped the drool off my face, rolled off the couch, and told her I was on my way.
Just as I was making the turn off the highway to the kennel my phone went off again, this time with a text message telling me I needed to get there ASAP. Well I was practically in the driveway, and I figured she was being somewhat impatient, I had left the house right after I hung up the phone and she knows I live 15 minutes away. She also should know better than to keep trying with the dog once she's already called me to help.
When I got to the kennel I had to unlock and open the door, even though I thought she'd be watching for me. When I opened the door I was greeted by a nosy but happy looking german shepherd dragging a too short chain lead around. Too short, as in, it was hard to step on. The boss really needs to get some decent leads in the kennel, since all we had was this chain thing, a puppy lead that cuts your hand if the dog pulls, and a too short and too small slip lead.
Anyway, what I find is a happy looking dog and a sobbing co-worker in the staff room. I looked at her first, saw no evidence of injury, and then told her that it was alright, I'd deal with the dog, a polite way of saying 'no need to cry about it'. Which got a sobbed out, squealed out, slough of words the only part of which I could make out was "Monty tried to kill that dog". Monty has been at the kennel for about a week, his chart does say he's dog aggressive, but the only 'that dog' I saw was the German shepherd, and I saw Monty outside when I came by on my way to the driveway looking happy as a clam. It didn't make sense that the german shepherd and monty had got in a fight.
So I had to get her to slow down and finally understood that what she was saying was, while she was dealing with the shepherd running amok in the kennel, Monty the Golden, and a bichon cross were in neighbouring runs outside. Monty had unlatched the door that connected his run to the bichon's and attacked the bichon. By the time the fight was over, not successfully broken up by my co-worker because she doesn't know how, the bichon had gone completely prone and was covered in blood. I must have arrived only a few minutes afterwards, judging by when the text came. My co-worker was sobbing on the couch, the aggressive shepherd was in the kennel, Monty was back in his outdoor run, and, to my extreme annoyance, the blood covered bichon was still outside too. Nothing had been done to ensure this dog was receiving first aid or anything.
First thing I did was look at the injured dog through the window, judge that I had a bit of time because she did not seem in critical distress (she was standing, pawing at the door, awake, alert, etc). Then I decided on my course of action. I would first make the indoor area safe by dealing with the shepherd. It would do me no good to go out and deal with the little dog only to come in and find my co-worker bitten. So, first step, kibbles. I hand fed the shepherd kibbles while I reached under and got a hold of the leash. There was a moment of resistance that I conquered with a strong no nonsense voice and body posture until the dog moved politely with me to his kennel. I got him in, left the leash on to deal with later then went to tend to the puppy who had been attacked. My co-worked was calming herself down, I went outside and the pup retreated into a tipped over rain barrel, when I went to get her she snapped at me, so I just tipped the barrel upright with her in it and brought the whole barrel in. By the time that trip was over all she wanted was out of the barrel and was happy to walk out of it when I tipped it back over.
I held her just by her collar and asked my co-worker to bring me a muzzle from the recently organized (by me) first aid cabinet. I muzzled the dog and set her up on the counter and began a head to toe exam, picking through the hair in search of the source of the blood. But the more I picked the more I realized that all the blood was on the tips on her hair, none was down to the base, where the hair and skin met. Which got me to thinking, that it wasn't her blood. I checked every inch of her just in case, but there wasn't a mark on her, not so much as a scratch. I told my co-worker this as I picked the dog up to take her for a bath to get the pee, poop, blood, and drool off her. None of that blood was hers. That was when I got the rest of the story. When Monty got into the run with her, the dog had run into the rain barrel, so Monty couldn't quite get at her there.
I sent the dog to the tub with my co-worker and went to check on Monty. Did I mention he is really old? As in, his teeth are rotting out of his face he's so hold. Monty has two superficial scratches on his nose, probably from tiny dog toe nails scrambling to get away, and when I opened his mouth the only thing bleeding was his gums. His disgusting, rotting, gums. I bopped him on the nose and went back to give the litle dog a bath. She was filthy even before the attack so she came out shiney and new and the bath allowed me to double check for injury. Once she was unmuzzled, towel dried, and trotting about with more confidence, feel much better for being clean I think, I went and got our good friend Jeter, a friendly sheltie, to give her that oh so important good follow up experience with a friendly dog. Jeter was a perfect gentleman, sniffed politely, hung about, didn't harass, and after a few minutes the pup was perfectly confident with him. I put her back in her kennel, right beside tail wagging happy dog Patch and right across from friendly gentlemanly Jeter and left her.
Wasn't done though. Crisis averted due to Monty's rotting teeth and because I had a good dog to create a good experience for the pup with, but then I still had to get the leash off the testy shepherd. So, it is here that I would like to thank the makers of Fancy Feast cat food. Half a tin of cat food was all it took. I stuck his nose in that, made sure that his focus was there and not on my other hand, where I got the leash loosened and off over his head, took my cat food, took my leash, and locked him in his kennel.
I think my co-worker is damn lucky that Monty's teeth are rotten, and that the little dog had enough of a brain to find a hole and get in it. I am bothered that my boss does not educate his staff on how to break up a dog fight, but you know, considering what I saw him do with one of my client's dogs the other week it wouldn't surprise me if even he doesn't know how to break up a dog fight. And so many of those dogs can figure out how to open those gates that locking mechanisms should be mandatory. This is twice now that the exact same situation has happened to this particular co-worker, where a dog had undone a latch and got into a fight with the dog next door. One of these days some big dog is going to kill a little thing like that bichon and I don't want to get called out of my nap to that blood bath.
So, so much for starting my weekend right smack at the end of my shift. Ended up going back to work anyway. On the upside, I think I put on a damn good show. Cool, collected, and with the help of cat food, ended with a little finesse.
I think I'm pretty damn good at what I do.
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