Bob and I were getting married in Plano on a Friday in February. Since my parents live in Stockholm, Sweden and Helsinki, Finland and Bob’s parents in St.Louis, we had not been able to arrange a meeting between them until three days before the actual wedding. The get-together was planned as a simple dinner at our house with some good food and cheerful folks. Well, everything did not work out that way. With a greedy dog around, having the parents-in-law meet, turned out to be a nightmare!

Monday before the wedding my best friend Marianne and my mother arrived on a flight from Stockholm, and I picked them up at the airport. My dad had already arrived from Helsinki the day before. Both my parents were staying at my sisters’ place. My friend Marianne was staying with Bob and me, and Bob’s parents were staying in a hotel near by.

Tuesday evening was planned for the get-together and dinner. The time was set for 6:30 p.m. but I had told all parents they were welcome to come early if they wanted to. At 6:00 p.m., Bob’s parents arrived. Our two dogs, Pontus and Boo, cheerfully met them at the door and were each given a rawhide by Bob’s mother to chew, much to their joy. Half an hour later, Bob came home from work and soon after my parents arrived.

We had eaten our supper, and Marianne and I were planning the coffee in the kitchen. The others were gathered in the living room, when it suddenly happened. I so very well recognize the sound of a dog starting to throw up. When I was little, our Irish Setter used to make those sounds before he was about to throw up. I had seen my dad grab hold of him and lead him off the carpet. Therefore, I reacted immediately when I heard Bob’s dog Boo starting to make these sounds. I rushed to get hold of him by his collar and lead him towards the back door. Bob and my father were standing right there talking, and I managed to get Bob’s attention, asking him to take Boo out quickly. He got hold of Boo and took him out while I went back to the kitchen.

Suddenly the terrible thought struck me that the sound Boo was making was not exactly the noise of a dog about to throw up - - it was the sound of a dog choking! My thought proved true when I heard Bob call for me with despair in his voice from the backyard: “Sonja, what do I do?”

I rushed out and a quick look proved that I was right. Boo had a a large piece of rawhide stuck in the back of his throat! Boo tried desperatly to cough and swallow, all to get rid of the rawhide in his troat.

Here I must stop for a moment to make a note of the fact that this dog has bitten me several times and I therefore have very mixed feelings for him. I hurried to tell Bob what was wrong with Boo and first asked him to try himself to get the rawhide out. I, however, soon realized that Bob was too upset to do it right and fast enough, so I took over. I told Bob to hold Boo’s head steady and open his mouth for me. Unfortunately, Bob did not hold Boo’s head steady enough but let go of his jaws while my right hand was in the dog’s throat, trying to get a grip of the slimy rawhide. My reaction was fast, but not fast enough for me to get my entire hand out of the dog’s mouth. Boo bit straight into my thumb, leaving a gaping hole and blood pouring out. The greedy dog was not going to let go of his rawhide without defending it!

I was not willing to try again with my hand all covered in blood, but quickly told Bob we had to get Boo to the animal hospital down the road. We could make it there in no time, and they could help us. I dashed inside. Marianne, who had started to realize what was going on and whose beloved dog, once many years ago, had been choking from similar reasons, went to help Bob with Boo. I washed off the worst of the blood and wrapped my thumb into the first piece of fabric I could find - - a kitchen towel. While I had been busy Bob and Marianne had gotten Boo from the backyard to the garage. I rushed after them. Marianne stopped Bob from carrying Boo on to the car. Boo was gurgling more and more and was becoming more and more faint. Marianne insisted, with a voice full of despair, that we do not go but try to get the rawhide out of Boos throat. She hardly found words. She was so upset. Bob placed Boo on a piece of carpet we have in the garage. I said: “Let’s go, it’s only down the road. What are we waiting for?” Hovever, Marianne just was not going to let us go. She was almost in tears. Suddenly I realized she was right. Boo was getting more and more faint, and we needed to take action fast! I started to listen to Marianne, whose level of adrenaline suddenly must have risen with an incredible speed when she realized the same thing as Bob and I did - - Boo was about to die!

Bob and I got hold of Boo in a hurry and held him so that his windpipe would get as much air as possible. I held his head and Bob, his body. Marianne’s hand went down the dog’s throat, and she grasped for the rawhide while she was screaming: “I can feel it, but I can’t get a good grip on it!” She tried and tried to get a hold of it. She was sounding more and more distraught. Then I felt Boo’s body stop resisting and go all limp.

“My God, he’s dead,” both Bob and I cried out loud while we were holding him.

“No, no,” cried Marianne and got her hand even deeper into the lifeless dog’s throat. Boo was now even harder to hold, totally limp as he was. Marianne dug and dug with her fingers and tried deperataly to get a hold of the slimy piece of rawhide that kept slipping her grip over and over. It felt as though ages passed, until she finally pulled out her hand and the piece of rawhide with it.

Boo was totally lifeless. He had urinated on both Bob and me when he passed out. Bob let go of him, and I had his heavy limbs all in my arms. Bob desperately shouted: “No, no - - he can’t be dead!” I laid him down on his right side on the carpet, stretched out his body and neck, and opened up his mouth to try to free his windpipe by placing his tongue to the side. I asked Bob to quickly start massaging Boo’s hindquarters while I myself started to pump his chest up and down with even intervalls. Marianne kept an eye on his head and tongue while I did so.

I was so sure all hope was gone. I did not think for a second that we would manage to get the breath of life back into the dog, but Marianne’s and Bob’s grief kept me steadily pumping the dog’s chest. Down. Let go. Down. Let go. All to get his heart back pumping blood and his breathing to start again. I concentrated hard, hoping some miracle would bring life back into Bob’s beloved dog. I was mumbling: “Come on, Boo...!”

Suddenly, Boo’s chest rattled. He got air! It was only a teeny weeny rattle, but it infused fresh courage. Were we actually going to be able to revive this seemingly dead dog? I concentrated even harder on pumping his chest with the correct intervalls. For each second that passed, the rattle in the dog’s chest now increased, and Bob could feel the once limp body give some resistance. Later, I saw there was a gleam of life in Boo’s eyes again, and he was now breathing with a rattling sound, unevenly, but slowly coming around. Time passed, Boo was still not moving; however, there was life in him and he now breathed on his own.

I waited a while to see how he would be doing without my help. He seemed alright, so I got up and dashed in to get the car keys. When I went in through the door, he lifted his head slightly from the carpet - - just for a second to check where I was going, before he let it fall back to the side. I was back quickly and got Boo into my arms while Bob ran to open the car door for me. By now I was pretty sure Boo would make it, but we needed to get him to the animal hospital anyway for a check up. It was not until we were in the car on our way that I realized that the vet down the road had closed for the night. It took us a good fifteen minutes to get to the 24-hour animal hospital. Boo would never have made that! I admit I was reluctant to get the rawhide out of Boo’s throat again after he bit me. When Marianne tried, however, he had already fainted and made no resistance. She saved Boo’s life by stopping us from leaving!

Boo came round more and more and was much better when we arrived at the animal hospital. The vet told us Boo’s lungs and heart sounded okay. We got some penicillin for him to prevent possible infection. The vet said Boo’s membranes could start swelling, leading to choking, had Marianne harmed them when pulling the rawhide out. We were also told we were lucky to have Boo alive! Then Bob called home to tell everyone that everything was okay. and that we would soon be back. Everyone was relieved. In the car on our way home, Boo was slowly coming around and was starting to protest against sitting in my lap.

The following day, Boo was more or less himself again, but perhaps somewhat shaken and shocked. My thumb was in bandaids after a thorough wash of the deep cut. Luckily, my tetanus immunity was still okay, so we never needed to go to the doctor to give me treatment. A few weeks later Boo was himself again and my thumb was left with a small scar to show as memory of that night. I can live with it knowing we managed to save the life of Bob’s dog. What I, however, still ca not figure out is if Boo acually died or if he just fainted. Whichever, there was only a matter of seconds to save him, and without Marianne’s deed we would likely have been short one dog - - and only three days before our wedding! Fortunately, even though th e first meeting for our parents did not turn out well, they all had a wonderful time at the wedding celebrations.

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This essay was originally written in April 1998
© Sonja Wakefield

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