Choking

I could have written about this post last week when it happened, but it was too hard then.  Heck, it's too hard now, but I need to get it written so it can be put from my mind as something that must be done.

The boys took Mira out to play in the snow before school.  Since we don't leave for school until 8:30, and they wake up at 5:55 (without an alarm), they always have plenty of time to get ready for school, read for at least 30 minutes, and play.  Last week, they chose to take her out and get her hyper with snowballs and tug of war.

I looked out the window and saw her back by her favorite spot in our yard: by the pond, under the aspen trees, near the trampoline, among the ivy vines.  I noticed her chewing kind of weird, vine positioned between her paws, but since I'd seen this view hundreds of times in the last two years it didn't cause me concern.  Before turning away, she got up and did what we call a "victory lap": running around the perimeter of our yard at full speed.

For years, she's played this "game" with the ivy vines.  She'll tug and tug on the vines, and when she finally pulls one away, she gets super excited that she's won the game, and does a victory lap around the yard, pouncing and shaking her head violently with the vine in her mouth.  I thought this was what she was doing.  Added on to the fact that the boys had been getting her hyper, I didn't have any reason to suspect anything else.

I turned away to begin loading the dishwasher of their breakfast dishes.  After a few cups, Brennon came in to tell me he thought Mira was chocking.  I walked to the same window and looked out, finding Mira sitting before Tyson, him trying to pry open her muzzle.  She was having none of it.  Because I'd seen her running around, I told them to have Mira come in.  She ran like the wind, coming in for a toy to put in her mouth, and just looking like her normal hyper-puppy self.  I made it back to the sink to continue my chores.

Not two seconds later, Mira came between me and the sink and started to nudge me like she does when she wants attention.  Nothing out of the ordinary, just thought she was still super hyper.  But then she started to paw at me in more of a frantic way.  I stepped back to assess what was going on and she started this pounce with a rigid arch in her back while violently slapping her face with her paw that scared the heck out of me.  "Oh my gosh, she really is choking!"

She would not let me look in her muzzle for anything.  I was getting more and more worried, so I screamed out to the boys to get in the car.  The way she was arching her back made me think she was trying to do some sort of Heimlich on herself.  I was frantic.

We got in the car and started for the vet that is maybe 5-7 minutes away.  Brennon said a prayer as we were pulling out of the driveway.  One second she was sitting on the seat looking out the window, the next she was jumping frantically around the car.  The boys were kind of screaming out, "Ouch, Mira, that hurts!" as she was pawing at them.  I was almost begging for a cop to pull me over for speeding, planning to ask him to rush me to the vet with his lights on and I would gladly hand over my license for the rest of the year if need be.  No cop came, I sped as fast as I felt was safe.

About halfway there, Tyson was saying, "Ouch, Mira...." and then started to scream her name over and over again.  I will never forget the fear in his voice.  I glanced back to see her laying on her side in the center aisle where we took out that extra seat.  She'd been bounding around all frantic, pawing at Tyson, and then collapsed.  I started to pray like I haven't prayed since Caden: "Please, Heavenly Father, please don't let her die. Please, please, please."  Tyson was bawling, petting her, holding her head up.  We all thought she was well and truly choking to death in the car.  I can't tell you how stupid I felt for bringing the boys along.  "Oh my gosh, my boys are going to witness their dog, Caden's dog, die in this car right now!"  I was beside myself with worry for Mira, worry for myself, worry for the family that was going to hear the news, but mostly, worry for my boys that were watching this all unfold.  It was the longest drive I have ever taken in my own town.

In my haste, I forgot a leash.  Knowing how much Mira hates the vet (and groomers), I was worried she'd put on the skids and that I'd have to drag her in by her collar.  Wouldn't that look great, "I think my dog is choking!" as I am pulling her by the neck.  She must have heard my voice, must have felt my fear, must have been beside herself with pain/fear, because she came in without a problem.  As soon as I got to the front desk, I started to cry.  I am SUPER proud of myself for the restraint I had over myself.  I was not sobbing, like I felt like doing, I was able to talk while tears streamed down my cheeks.  "I think my dog is choking."

She was checking her screen as I was telling her what happened and what she'd been doing since, when she said the only thing they had available was to admit her for observation.  At this point, I didn't care what the heck they did, as long as the vet looked at her immediately.  I told them yes.  They had us take a seat while one of the techs was summoned.  Less than a minute later, the tech came to talk with us.  Again, I am super proud of myself, because the thought that this was the person that was going to take my Mira to be fixed made me more emotional-- tears were coming down, I was finding it a bit harder to get my words out, but I was not sobbing.  Tyson was clinging to me, silently crying, too.  At that moment, Mira started to do that pounce thing.  The tech watched her for half a second and then said, "I'm taking her right now," scooped her up immediately, and whisked her away.  I sank down to the seat, Tyson practically on my lap, and prayed.

Brennon was so great under pressure.  He saw our fear and tried to distract us.  I was so proud of him when he said in a calm, reassuring voice, "Tyson, look, they have a Calvin and Hobbes book.  Want to read it with me?"  Tyson didn't, but it did relieve some of the stress hearing Brennon read us some of the funny antics.

Less than five minutes later, the door opened.  I was expecting to see just the tech, since I thought they were going to admit her, but instead saw the tech, Mira, and the actual vet.  In the vet's hand were those long-nosed gripper, plier type things that they use for surgery.  Within the jaws of that tool was a 3" shard of vine.  My mind reeled, thinking that was choking my Mira, we got it out just in time!  Mira pulled so hard on the leash, the tech let her go to come to me.  Mira came up behind me, pressed her nose up through my legs, and sat directly under me as if I was going to ride her.  We must have looked like quite the sight: Mira between my legs, me bending forward to pet and love on her, with a boy on either side, kneeling down, excitedly petting and expressing their love for her.  By the time the vet and tech made it to us, the vet had tears rolling down her cheeks, too.  I could no longer talk.

"She was not choking, she is going to be ok.  I want you to know that she was not going to die, nor will she from this.  It looks like she bit down on this enough for it to break off and wedge itself between teeth in the upper palette.  Because it was so far back there, she would try to expel it with her tongue, which in essence gagged her.  It was wedged in there really deep, there would have been no way to get it out of there on her own.  She's going to be in a bit of pain, would you like to go home with some pain medication?"

I can't tell you how many times I tried to say thank you through my tears.  She left us with tears still running down her cheeks.  When we were checking out, I felt like telling her to keep the card.  "Take it all, here's my pin number!"  No amount would have been too expensive.  I don't usually like to talk about the real reason we have Mira, but I had to bite my tongue from saying, "You know, that dog is not just a pet/companion for us," and spilling our sob story to them all.  I came to them in tears, and I left in tears.  My Mira is going to be ok.

As we were getting in the car, Tyson asked, "Mom, do you think I could talk to dad about bearing my testimony on Sunday?"  Brennon told him that was only the first of the month, so I told him he could bear it to us. "I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.  We prayed that Mira would be ok, and he answered our prayers."  As soon as he knew there was no danger, my little Tyson gave thanks and continued faith to the Lord.

The entire ordeal was less than 45 minutes from "get in the car" to dropping the boys off at school to start their day.  By the time I made it home with Mira, it had been less than an hour since I looked out the back window to watch her chewing in her favorite spot.  I sat on the couch, called her up to sit with me, snuggling, petting, crying, and praying.  I was 100% done with the day by 8:45am. 

My anxiety and depression (which doesn't feel like depression I've experienced before, more of like an extreme grief whenever anything reminds me of Caden, but I don't know what else to call it) have been slowly drowning me recently, enough to have appointments to get medication and possibly counseling, so this incident really did me in.  We honestly thought our Mira was choking to death.  From frantic to collapse in the car to frantic at the vet and collapse on the couch, I could only think how blessed we were to have Mira.  She is our therapy, she is our baby, she is the only thing we have left of our Caden.  I don't think we'll ever truly be ready to say goodbye to her.  How grateful I am to have her at my feet as I type this and cry.  Caden's dog brings us so much joy.  I can't wait to celebrate her 4th birthday on Saturday!