The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2430 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I returned and showered, got the bits of twig and stuff out of my hair—okay, someone’s dog was tangled up in some netting and going crazy. I could hardly leave it, could I? At the same time as I approached it, it snarled and barked at me waking Lizzie, who then began to wail—in my ear. It was like being jammed in front of a siren, not a pleasant place to be.

Taking Lizzie off me, I hung the papoose from a nearby tree and hoped that the dog wouldn’t kill me when I began to free him—assuming I could. I also hoped I placed Lizzie beyond the canine’s reach.

If you throw positive energy at something frightened or angry, it’s supposed to quieten them down, calming them. That was what Katy did next, only it didn’t seem to be helping, the dog was still yelping, barking and snarling at me enmeshing itself in the netting even more as it struggled—like some giant spider’s web.

The netting was a combination of wire and nylon and I could see the blood where the animal had struggled and torn itself against the wires. No wonder it was angry and frightened, I’d have been just the same and as a human I supposed to be capable of rational thought—that is using human rationale—greed, self interest, selfishness and so on. Okay, I know I’m preaching to the converted, we’re the good guys on the white charger, gaming armour and so forth—look I’m just playing for time, to think how to release this poor creature.

Swiss army knife—Biggles had his chewing gum and elastic band, Dr Who his sonic screwdriver—I have my SAK. Um—well I thought I did, except I didn’t. I checked my pockets—it wasn’t there. Oh poo and double poo. I took my belt off and took off the camera pouch, and my water bottle, my binoculars and another pouch. My multitool. Perhaps there is a cod after all, ’cos this dog is beginning to look as if it’s had its chips. It had succumbed to exhaustion or asphyxiation. It was panting like mad then it suddenly stopped.

Using the pliers I started cutting wires. There had to be one near its neck, but I couldn’t find it for the animal’s thick fur. I probed the throat of the lifeless beast with fingers that seemed unable to locate the means by which the creature had effectively garrotted itself. I found something thin and tough—it wasn’t wire, it was nylon cord and I couldn’t get my fingers under it so my knife blade wouldn’t go either. Oh poo, what now—if I didn’t get it off in the next minute or so, the dog would be dead or so brain damaged it might as well be dead—assuming I could start it breathing again.

With my eyes shut, I felt for the cord moving away from the throat—it was so damned tight it was like trying to trace wires in a wall. I found a looser part and slipped the knife under, pulled and the thing got tighter. It took a couple of goes to cut it. Nothing happened. Back to the throat, I discovered a second cord and tried to trace that. I cursed my fingers for being so useless. Why couldn’t they feel this thing, then I felt wet stuff, it was blood, the cord had cut into the skin of the dog I was going to have to do the same—it was taking too long to do it the kind way.

Hoping that nothing vital like blood vessels or nerves were in the way, I began picking at the nylon—it seemed to be taking hours, suddenly there was a release of tension and something parted and my knife slipped deeper. I pulled it back immediately—there seemed more blood about now. Oh well, like CPR, if you don’t do it your patient is dead already. The cord stripped away and I could feel a wound right round the dog’s neck where the string had cut into it. Now it was free except the animal wasn’t breathing. I cut some more cord and wires and placing the dog on its back, held its mouth shut and blew down its snout twice. Then hoping its heart was somewhere near where I was pushing, I began compressions.

Probably the blue light I was pouring into the poor animal helped, but you know me, belt and bracers kind of girl, so I zapped it with everything. In all the excitement I forgot about Lizzie and when I looked up at her she was laughing—something was amusing her. Small bubbles of blue energy were floating from the unconscious dog to her and she was trying to catch them. Back to my veterinary patient. I gave it a dozen more compressions sat back exhausted and one of its hindlegs kicked back and knocked me over. Scrambling back I could see it was now panting again—so something had worked.

A swig of water helped me recover a little so I dripped a little on the dog’s tongue. It swallowed, so some reflexes were working but I wasn’t going to look at its pupil response given the eyes are relatively close to two rows of large, sharp teeth. Even if it didn’t want to bite me, it might do so by reflex.

Talking to it seemed to calm it down, even though I was speaking a language it probably didn’t understand. I stood and the dog watched me as I walked round it. Another pull on my bottle cleared my mouth and throat. Then I remembered I just been kissing a dog’s snout and I was promptly sick, which required more water to clear the taste—I know, TMI.

I helped the unfortunate canine sit up, so it could breathe more easily. As I collected up my stuff and clipped it back on my belt, the dog struggled to stand and finally it staggered away without a word of thanks. Oh well that’s dogs for you...like some people I know. I finished the rest of my water washing canine gore off my hands though my clothing was quite marked.

By the time I’d replaced Lizzie on my back the dog was nowhere to be seen, I hoped it was able to find its way home. It would need some TLC for the next few days. Lizzie grumbled as I bent down to collect up all the rubbish that constrained the dog, I’d take it back with me and chuck it in the bin.

I’d finished my shower, dressed and was doing the vegetables for the casserole before I was discovered by the children who seemed pleased to see me. They’d had great fun playing in and around the pool and told me all about it as I made the dinner. Thus ended the first day of our holiday.