When God Sends a Gift

Driving home from Chattanooga on a couple weeks ago, I suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the road.  There near the edge of the road, heading into a patch of dense woods, was a tiny puppy--too tiny to be wandering alone.  I called the puppy and it came right up to me.  I picked it up and drove to the nearest house to see if it was theirs.  It wasn't, and all we could assume was that someone had dumped one more defenseless puppy out in the country, although we couldn't figure out why on earth someone would dump such an adorable, friendly puppy.

I called every vet we know, but they were all closed for the weekend, so I drove home with the puppy curled up in my lap.  Kara pitched in, and we gave the puppy some water, which it lapped thirstily.  We fed it a bit of milk and some congealed meat juice, then gave it a bath.

As we bathed it, several things became obvious:  It was a boy, it was skin and bones, and it was swarming with ticks.  I started removing ticks, but it soon became clear the puppy needed more help than I could give him at home.  Kara offered to drive us to R.I.V.E.R., the emergency animal clinic in Chattanooga, so off we went.  On the way, we decided to name the puppy Kona, Hawaiian for "trade wind."  The first dog we had in France was named "Alizée," which is French for trade wind, and it seemed to fit my theme of wind names which began with Zephyr, Misty (Mistral) and Jet.

At the animal hospital a sweet tech named Becca took us to a room.  She began to remove ticks, and we counted as she pulled them off and dropped them into a vial of alcohol.  After a while, Kona got some prescription dog food and Becca drew blood.  While she went to run the tests, I kept removing ticks.

By the time the vet came to see us, we had some numbers:  At approximately six weeks old, Kona weighed 2.5 lbs. instead of the 5 lbs. he should have weighed.  Even after eating, his glucose was only 62 instead of over 100, which it should have been.  The worst news was his PCV or percentage of red blood cells.  Instead of a normal of 35, Kona's was only 11.  That explained his white gums and tongue, as well as his weakness and lethargy.  Basically, his life blood was being drained by starvation and the ticks.  We were up to 180 by the time I left, and before Becca was done for the night, she had removed over 200 ticks from Kona's tiny body.  She told Kara and me that her previous record in school was a full-grown pit bull that had 100 ticks on it.  I'm not sure that's the kind of record a puppy wants to break at such a young age!

In consultation with the vet, we decided to leave Kona overnight for treatment:  IV fluids, a blood transfusion, prophylactic antibiotics for tick-borne diseases, treatment for intestinal parasites, and a re-feeding regimen.  The vet called us before she left for the night and told us that the blood transfusion raised Kona's PCV to 20, and that he stood and wagged his tail.  When I heard that news, I was pretty sure he would make it.

Before we headed home, Kara called and gave Herb the heads-up that I had found a stray puppy, was getting it treated at the animal hospital, and planned to keep it.  Herb thought she was joking!  He told me later he didn't mind me helping the puppy, but he sure didn't want another dog!  I told him that the puppy had snuggled right into my heart, but that he was going to need a lot of care to recover, and meanwhile we could keep an open mind . . .

Sunday we brought Kona home, quite an improvement over the bedraggled creature I had picked up the day before.  Kona met Hero . . .

. . . and Misty.  He wasn't afraid, just respectfully humble the way a teeny puppy should be.

The grandkids were at the house, and they couldn't wait to meet the new puppy.  Hugs and cuddles were shared all around, and Kona generously handed out kisses and tail wags.  The eldest asked, "Are you going to keep the puppy?"  (Smart little girl!)

Kara told her to ask Didi.  (Smart young woman!)

Take a look at the way our youngest granddaughter clutched Kona in her arms, and tell me what you think Herb said . . .

That was an easy guess, wasn't it?!

Yes, Kona has a home!  I told Herb that his appearance at the exact moment I drove by was an "act of God," and I meant it.  It's incredible to me that such a sweet puppy could have been discarded, but God did not intend this special part of His creation to be wasted, so He literally dropped Kona into my lap!

I remember telling one of my daughters many years ago, "When God sends you a gift, even if you didn't ask for it and even if the timing isn't what you might have chosen, you don't say, 'No thanks!'  You take it in both your hands and say, 'Thank you!'"

So . . . thank You, Lord!

Update:

With company over Memorial Day weekend and the arrival of Siobhan's calf, I didn't get Kona's story posted. However, he quickly wagged his way into all of our hearts.

Just a few days after his arrival, he was sleeping in my lap when Herb walked by. Kona woke up, jumped up wagging his tail, and whined for Herb. I told Herb Kona wanted some loving, so he came over and petted him. Kona kept whining until Herb picked him up. Then Kona settled into Herb's arms and gave tiny little moans of delight, while Herb stood there grinning in delight, too.

Yesterday I spent about five hours treating Siobhan (that will be another post) for mastitis.  When I came in at about 8 pm, I found out that Kona had been acting like he was trying to throw up.  He began doing it more frequently, wheezing at the same time, and about 10 pm Kara drove us to RIVER again.  There we learned some very sad news.  Kona has food bloat because his food has not moved through his stomach and intestines properly, although I did ask our vet about his distended tummy.  He also has aspiration pneumonia with fever, which is causing the wheezing.  And finally, he seems to have megaesophagus, probably the congenital variety, which often appears at weaning, leading to emaciation (and perhaps making him prey to so many ticks) and aspiration pneumonia.  This would explain--although never, ever excuse--why someone might have dumped such a precious puppy.

We had to leave Kona at RIVER again, and it looks like he'll be there for a while longer.  He's still bloated, though somewhat better.  (My concern is whether the lack of esophageal peristalsis carries into his intestines and what that would mean for his prognosis.)  His fever is a little better, but his breathing is still difficult.  He's in an oxygen box, receiving antibiotics and nebulizer treatments.

When Kara and I went to tell him goodbye last night, I picked him up out of the oxygen box, and he wagged his little tail like crazy and licked all over my face.  Kara got the same treatment.  When we put him back, he was so weak and tired he laid down at the edge and peered out at us.  I said, "Look Kara, Kona's looking at us!" and he wagged his little tail again.

We're asking God for another gift, that He would heal Kona so he can come home again and have a chance at a happy life.  This little puppy is a ball of love, which he lavishes on all comers, and we love him right back.  Right now there's a huge Kona-sized hole in our home.

West Texas, Part V: Our Last Day

Wednesday was our last day on the ranch.  I "borrowed" these photos that Kara posted on Facebook since I never quite made it up in time to catch the glorious sunrises.

Hmm, looking at these photos, I think that's a habit I need to change!

I did get up in time to see the rising sun illuminate Cathedral Rock.

You've heard the old saying, "The early bird gets the worm."  Well, Jenny and Jean-Marc were the early birds who found this worm!  We won't talk about what happened next, but it did delay our start and did end in Jean-Marc getting a traditional Limpia souvenir!

Herb drove on this trip, another attempt to find Crystal Hill.  We hoped his good sense of direction would help locate the branching road we missed the day before.  It had really poured rain up in the hills the previous evening, and the truck couldn't quite make it up the hill.  In this case, a miss was as good as a mile!

It turned out that I couldn't shift the truck into 4-low yesterday because the gear shift was broken--stuck in 4-high.  Without that lower gear, the wheels spun the rocks on the MUD!  Mud is unheard of in the West Texas mountains, but there it was!  We couldn't complain about the rain, but we sure did want to get up that hill!

Herb did some very skillful driving--very scary, too, from our perspective on the side of the road where he made us all wait.  Jean-Marc did some skillful directing, and the the truck finally made it up the hill.  

On toward Bishop's Nose and, hopefully, Crystal Hill.

Since I've mentioned that I keep my eyes on the ground looking for rocks, I thought it would be a good idea to show you what the ground looks like.  This also gives you an idea of what's involved for the animals that graze the land.

We never did find Crystal Hill.  The turnoff has either overgrown in the past seven years or the evidence of the road has washed away.  That will be a hiking job for Herb on a future trip.  However, we did enjoy another visit to the beautiful Frank's Tank (back under that grove of trees).  While we were prospecting for the Crystal Hill road we found lots of beautiful rocks, mostly agates, but also some petrified wood and even a few fossilized shells.  The geology of this area is simply fascinating!

We found plenty of beautiful views, too!

Here are the intrepid explorers (from left to right), Herb, Susan (me), Jenny, Jean-Marc, and Kara.  Hero was off exploring somewhere.

A rarely authorized photo of the two old folks!  If you're wondering what on earth is South Pork Ranch, check here.  And yes, it's a clever play on words on the famous South Fork Ranch of "Dallas" fame, located in Plano, Texas.

A good chance for a sister photo shoot.

Hero did NOT enjoy the bumpy parts of the ride!  When it got rough, he hid his head behind Jenny.  If she'd given him a smidgen of encouragement, he would have been in her lap--all 60 pounds of him!

It was a gorgeous day for our last outing, but it was time to head home, load up the vehicles and drive to Alpine, where we would spend the night to get an early start for the two-and-a-half hour drive to the Midland-Odessa airport the next morning.

Before driving down the infamous hill, Herb made us all get out and walk down . . . just in case.  But it's a lot easier getting down than up!

Hero seemed much happier on his own feet for the rough part of the ride, so we let him lead the way home.

In the really straight stretches he ran to catch up.

As we drew near the house, Herb let Hero get out in front so he could be the one to bring us home.

Then it was goodbye to Limpia with another time-honored tradition--a photo at the front gate.

Goodbye, Limpia house.

Goodbye, Bishop's Nose.
 

Goodbye, Cathedral Rock and the High Road and Jim Falls and all those other wonderful places we didn't get to this time.  We'll catch you later!

West Texas, Part IV: Cowboy Breakfast and Frank's Tank

Cowboy breakfast cooked over an open fire by Herb is one of our honored traditions at Limpia.



This time Herb had plenty of help from Jean-Marc . . .

. . . and Jenny.

It was delicious!  (Although I passed on the toast, some fried in bacon grease and some in olive oil!)  I had a pan mexican instead.

Hero was on KP duty.

After breakfast Herb stayed home to nurse a cold while the rest of us set out to find an old favorite place, Crystal Hill.  This is a hill in the general vicinity of Bishop's Nose that is full of chunks of crystalized rocks and agates.  The last time we tried to find it seven years ago, the road was blocked by a huge fallen boulder and we had to hike to it.

Signs of recent roadwork gave us hope that we might be able to drive the truck all the way to Crystal Hill.  The huge old boulder had been shoved off the road, but even with the road in good condition, that's relative in such rough country.  We almost didn't make it up this hill . . . but even though the truck was stuck in 4-high instead of 4-low, we made it to the top.

And what a reward when we got up on the plateau!  The view was breathtaking.  (That flat green area in the distance, just in front of the farthest mountains, is part of the Jeff Ranch.)

The road wound around, up and down, often going somewhere that looked impossible from farther away.  It was quite an adventure!

We stopped frequently just to soak in the beauty--and of course, pick up some rocks.  We've learned to always carry a backpack or bucket to hold our treasures.

Eventually we got to an area we dubbed "The Moonscape," which was unfamiliar to us.

The road ended at a grove of trees, and as we walked under the shade I suddenly remembered where we were:  Frank's Tank.  Years ago there was a ranch foreman named Frank who loved doing rock work.  He had taken us all on a horseback ride back to this tank he'd made, a perfect spot for a picnic.

Some provident cowboy had even left a tin cup hanging in a tree, although we've learned the hard way NOT to drink from a cow tank!  Anyone who has cattle knows they aren't very clean in the way they drink water, not to mention things that might fall in and die.  So the cup stayed in its tree unused.

Jenny found this fascinating piece of old wood, so into the back of the truck it went.  It's sitting on the west porch now, waiting to be made into a lamp some day.

We finally had to admit that somewhere we had missed the turn-off to Crystal Hill, although we christened the hill near Frank's Tank "Agate Hill," for obvious reasons.  With buckets and backpacks full of pretty rocks we headed back home.

The sight of Star Mountain is always welcome, just as good as a signpost that says "Almost Home."

The afternoon storm moved in right on schedule, and we were glad to be off the steep road.

This time the storm came from a different direction, nearly obscuring Wun Hung Lo in the distance.

The porch on the front of the house faces east, a perfect place to watch the sunrise.  A Mexican pottery jar that Herb's mother chose for the front patio still sits where she placed it 55 years ago.  The cottonwoods his parents planted around the house have braved drought and wind, never quite thriving, but still hanging on.

Herb's father designed the house all those years ago, and over half a century later it still functions beautifully.  The west porch is one of our favorite spots in the house.  I'm sure his parents would be delighted to know that the place they designed, built, decorated and loved is still being used by their children and grandchildren.

After supper we watched the sun set behind Star Mountain, and I played with the settings on my new camera.

The camera can't seem to choose a favorite view of Star Mountain any more than I can!  One of these visits when we've caught up with all our favorite places on the ranch, I really will spend an entire day sitting in front of Star Mountain taking photos every hour just to see it in all its beautiful facets.

Thank you, Lord, for making such a beautiful place!