#79 PUPPY - SCOOTER'S FINE - 1-9-26
It’s a Scooter Sublime story but let me begin with a phone message we received on Sunday, June 26, 2011.
“Doug is safe, but the tug sank,” our son Doug’s wife said.
Doug was the Master of Aries, the 125’, twin screw tug pulling a 275’ flat-deck cargo barge loaded with heavy construction vehicles across 700 miles of the Bering Sea, from Dutch Harbor to Nome. About 110 miles from Saint Paul’s Island, Doug’s tug took on water and sank. Take a look: You Tube, “Aries Tug Sinking/Rescue.”
Doug maneuvered the severely listing tug barge-side. One by one his crew jumped to safety. His final maneuver, getting the tug (at a 30° list starboard) close enough for him to make the Portside leap up, where his crew caught the straps of his survival suit, and dragged him to safety. Within minutes, the Aries sank.
I’m so proud of Doug’s piloting skills. He and his crew were fine. I was a mess when later we heard his Mayday call. Such calm.
Yesterday, Scooter Sublime had his teeth cleaned. He wasn’t happy about arriving at the Vet’s office, even though the word ‘Zen’ is in the clinic name. Calm wasn’t the message of his fearful quiver, but he was, as Doug was, safe. I was uneasy. So, I did what I do when I go to the dentist where I am uneasy. I count steps. Not the steps my feet make, but procedural steps
Step one: Greet the dentist office receptionist. Step two: settle in the dental chair and greet the technician. You can see where this is going.
At PetZen Animal Wellness clinic, the hug from our Vet helped but the necessary review of the Dental Prep Form didn’t. I began counting steps.
Step One was done. Scooter arrived. He wasn’t altogether happy, but Scooter was fine.
Step Two: Pre-Anesthetic Diagnosis form review with the Technician.
Consent & Authorization. Done. Medical history review, done. Permission for blood work, done. Permission for the doctor to take any emergency action, given (Breath in, wait, breath out slowly) any unexpected crisis. Done. I approved the possibility of having X-rays below the gum line, should that be needed (they weren’t).
My initials hit the page.
Scooter, meanwhile, was visiting with staff. Scooter was fine.
By having Scooter’s teeth cleaned, because of preparatory bloodwork, we know his liver and kidneys are functioning nicely. Then there were the financial obligations to discuss (try to breathe), a double check on how to contact us, and his Go Home instructions handed over. Oh, surprise! His nails were clipped while he is the state of unaware. It’s like a doggie spa day with added Ka-ching.
“Plan to pick up Scooter sometime after three but before five.”
Step Three: I go home where I read about this procedure. Did you know that anesthesia disrupts a dog’s hypothalamus—which is its body’s thermostat—causing a rapid drop in core temperature? I didn’t. That’s why during the procedure, Scooter lay with a warmed blanket under him and another covering his body. In such an induced state, a dog can’t even shiver. Scooter was constantly monitored. He was fine.
1:50pm – Dr. Dorthy called.
“Wait! This seems too early, right? I don’t worry about weather, or whether David climbs dangerous mountains, or which brand of canned corn is better than another, but I worry when a call comes an hour earlier than expected.
“Scooter was a trooper,” she said. His teeth are great. He does have a little tooth that seemed never to develop but it’s not a problem. It really was a straightforward cleaning. He’s still a little loopy so why don’t you plan to pick him up around 3:30?”
Which we did.
Scooter was quiet when he joined us. Happy, but very quiet. Very unlike Scooter. This, I’m thinking, is the Sublime part usually hidden from his people. He’s sleeping it off now, even as I write. His teeth are sparkling, his nails nicely clipped. He’s fine. I need the Sublime part to pass. Not that I’m worried. He’s fine. I’m recovering. Step by step.
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