Oogy_ The Dog Only a Family Could Love - Larry Levin [11]
There was untouched food in the cage. The ER staff had cleaned the largest wound on the left side of the pup’s face, given the dog an injection of steroids to counteract shock, and injected him with antibiotics. They had not given him any blood or tried substantively to treat his injuries. The ER staff were not doing what Diane refers to as “above and beyond.” They had expended only the minimal effort needed to keep him alive. No one owned the dog, so there was no one to hold the ER accountable for his treatment or to pay for the effort that it would take to try to repair the damage he had suffered. As a result, Diane learned, the doctor planned on transferring the dog to the SPCA.
From experience, she knew that if the pup was transferred to the SPCA, he would be euthanized.
Aware that the doctor’s likely plans for the pup would lead to his destruction, moved by what he had already endured and his sweet, calm demeanor, and well aware of the magnitude of the fight that lay ahead, Diane asked if the doctor would sign over the animal to her. She wanted to at least make an effort to save the dog’s life. The doctor agreed, because once the transfer had occurred, the dog’s welfare was no longer his responsibility.
Dr. Bianco was upstairs in his office doing paperwork. When he came down to the first floor to begin his day’s rounds, Diane immediately went over to him, the words spilling out of her.
“I need your help,” she said to him. “Will you take a look at this dog who came in over the weekend? He was used as a bait dog. Half his face is missing. The police brought him in and the ER doctor was going to send him to the SPCA, so I had him signed over to me. The SPCA will just destroy him. I want to try to save him. He’s really cute and seems very sweet, and I really feel badly for him.”
Dr. Bianco looked at her and shook his head in mock disbelief. “Oh God, Diane…” He sighed. “Not another one.” Then he smiled and said, “Okay. Let’s go have a look.”
Dr. Bianco followed Diane back into the treatment room, where he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened the door to the dog’s cage. He lifted him out and placed him on the examination table. Cradling the dog’s head in his left arm to immobilize him, Dr. Bianco took a scissors from one of the drawers and cut open the bandage. With his right foot, he pressed the pedal that opened the top of the medical waste bin on the floor at the end of the examination table and dumped the bloody wad of gauze and tape into it. Saturated with and stiffened by discharge from the dog’s wounds, the bandage landed with a loud thump, as though it were made out of plaster of Paris. With his right hand, Dr. Bianco stroked the dog’s flank to calm him down and erase his fear. The pup offered absolutely no resistance. Dr. Bianco, too, was astonished that despite everything that had happened to him, and despite the way humans had so obviously mistreated him, the dog exhibited no signs of anxiety. He seemed to understand somehow that the people around him now were different from those who had controlled his life before; that they were kind, even though he had probably never before experienced human kindness.
The pup’s ribs were prominent, which told Dr. Bianco that he was malnourished. His breathing was shallow, but he did not open his mouth for additional air, which was a sign of distress. His head and neck were caked with iodine brown dried blood. His features were horrifically damaged. There were multiple infected puncture wounds on the right side of his face