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| Photo credit: Google Images |
Kari the service dog is trained to detect when her
diabetic owner’s blood sugar drops to dangerous levels. Let the superhero-like magnificence
of that skill sink in for a minute. This dog can actually smell the chemical changes in her owner’s blood. With such a
powerful sniffer, it’s a complete mystery how Kari ended up wandering through
my neighborhood wounded, lost, and unable to sniff her way back home. Maybe she
got sick of her responsibilities and abandoned her family in search of a better
life, maybe she was too scared to find her way back, or maybe she just got
lost. Whatever the reason, for seven days Kari starved, froze, and drifted
alone, too terrified to respond to our rescue attempts.
Many residents in my neighborhood use Nextdoor, a
social network that allows neighbors to communicate with one another privately.
One December day, multiple postings appeared from concerned neighbors about an
injured black lab roaming the neighborhood. According to the posts, one of the dog’s
legs appeared to be broken and she was extremely skittish, running away when
anyone approached her. A windstorm was knocking out power and blowing down
trees all over town and this poor dog was lost in the thick of it. I called
animal control and was told that because our neighborhood is outside city
limits, we had to capture and confine the dog before they’d come get her.
A few days later, as I walked past my front door,
I looked out the window and there she was, standing on my porch. A faded
red collar with tags dangled from her scrawny neck. I knew that she’d run if
she saw me, but I also knew I could save her if she let me. I could feed her and
warm her. I could protect her. I could bring her home.
Praying for a miracle, I opened the door and she
darted across my lawn on three legs, her right hind leg dangled uselessly. I
grabbed my dog’s food dish and leash, jumped in my car and followed her. She knew
I was pursuing her, so she ran as fast as her three legs would allow. I’d
lost sight of her but could still hear her tags jingling, so I followed the sound. I found the pitiful girl
two blocks from my house eating the garbage that had spilled from my neighbor’s
overflowing can. I stopped the car and held a bowl of gluten-free,
probiotic-enhanced, beef and sweet potato goodness out the window. She lifted
her head for a moment, hungry for the good food I offered, and then returned to
the trash.
“Come here, girl, it’s okay,” I said in my most sing-songiest mommy voice, shaking the
bowl. “Just let me help you.” I tossed her a handful of food. She lifted her
head once more and looked at me with wearied, bloodshot eyes before limping
away, too exhausted to run. I followed her through the streets, keeping my
distance, gently coaxing her to come to me. But she refused the safety and rest
I offered. I saw how much she wanted it, but she was too hurt and frightened;
she would have rather died than surrender herself to me.
I’ve been
where you are, I thought.
I followed her for forty minutes before giving up.
Later that afternoon, my daughter and I scoured the neighborhood
unsuccessfully, and the dog spent another freezing night outside. The next morning,
my wonderful neighbor, Karen, who is involved with dog rescue, obtained a humane
trap from the animal shelter and set it in an area where the dog seemed to
spend a lot of time. Karen placed food inside the cage and neighbors checked on
it often.
Within hours, one of my neighbors found the scared dog in the
cage, read the tags on her collar, and called the owner who lives less than two miles away. When
the dog’s owner learned that Kari, her service dog, had been found alive she wept
so hard she had to hand the phone to her son, who also cried for joy. And when
the family and Kari were finally reunited, Kari cried harder than all of them.
The vet examined Kari and her leg wasn’t broken
after all, she simply pulled a muscle. Maybe she pulled it running away from
home, maybe she pulled it trying to find her way back. But no matter how she
hurt herself, Kari’s injuries will heal and she’ll go back to serving the one
who loves her.
Meanwhile, I'm sending my dog to diabetes
detection school. All she can do is “sit” and she's not even good at that.
