Buck Laser
08-28-2008, 01:09 AM
Most of us either post about depressing matters, or wind up getting in arguments with each other, so I thought I'd talk for a minute about something that turned out well.
Day before yesterday, my daughter-in-law and I were walking our dogs at Austin's best dog park, right on Lady Bird Lake, heading for one of the beaches where the dogs love to retrieve frisbees and tennis balls. Suddenly we heard someone call for help. We turned around, and there was a woman kneeling beside her dog. "I think he's choking to death," she said. The dog, a chocolate lab, was foaming at the mouth and his eyes were bugged out in obvious panic. My D-I-L immediately knelt beside the dog and began massaging his throat while I called 311, the city's help number. The dog's tongue was as blue as a chow's tongue when suddenly the rock popped out and he began breathing in great gasps. We stayed to see the dog get better, and I told the 311 operator the emergency was over. The dog's owner said her dog was 13, and rarely felt like going out any more.
"I don't have any children," she said, "so this is my baby." My D-I-L said she thought of the throat massage because she'd seen it a James Herriott book. She doesn't think of herself as responding well in crises, but she knew exactly the right thing to do in this instance, and she definitely saved a life the other day. I am so proud of her, and happy to see that she's gained just a bit of self-confidence.
Both she and I have felt good about that for the last couple of days. I wish I knew for certain that the dog is OK, though. As we left, he was beginning to sit up, but still heaving breaths.
Day before yesterday, my daughter-in-law and I were walking our dogs at Austin's best dog park, right on Lady Bird Lake, heading for one of the beaches where the dogs love to retrieve frisbees and tennis balls. Suddenly we heard someone call for help. We turned around, and there was a woman kneeling beside her dog. "I think he's choking to death," she said. The dog, a chocolate lab, was foaming at the mouth and his eyes were bugged out in obvious panic. My D-I-L immediately knelt beside the dog and began massaging his throat while I called 311, the city's help number. The dog's tongue was as blue as a chow's tongue when suddenly the rock popped out and he began breathing in great gasps. We stayed to see the dog get better, and I told the 311 operator the emergency was over. The dog's owner said her dog was 13, and rarely felt like going out any more.
"I don't have any children," she said, "so this is my baby." My D-I-L said she thought of the throat massage because she'd seen it a James Herriott book. She doesn't think of herself as responding well in crises, but she knew exactly the right thing to do in this instance, and she definitely saved a life the other day. I am so proud of her, and happy to see that she's gained just a bit of self-confidence.
Both she and I have felt good about that for the last couple of days. I wish I knew for certain that the dog is OK, though. As we left, he was beginning to sit up, but still heaving breaths.