Adventures of Sasha’s Gang--Chapter 11

                                                                                         

“Please call me when you know anything,” I urged.  “Love you.”

“To the moon,” she countered.  “Take care of those pups.”

I shared our conversation with the resting clan when the evangelistic Bambi spoke: “I’d like to suggest we all say a prayer for Lucky’s surgery.”

“Like heck we will,” Madden quipped. “I will gladly wish him best of luck.  But no God stuff.”

“To each his own,” Mama advised.  “But we need to all hold him in our thoughts.  He’s one of us.”

“Amen,” Bambi repeated as Spitz returned from the dog run, crashing through the doggy door. 

“You ain’t gonna believe this!” his tenor elevated.  “There’s a mountain lion outside!”

The clan responded with a hybrid of both disbelief and excitement.  “You sure it’s a mountain lion?” Madden asked.  “Does its tail reach the ground?”  Most of the felines that were native to the area were significantly the smaller and less dangerous bob cats who had scant for a tail.  Some had even been mistakenly identified by folks as large house cats. But the radio had advised that some bear and cougars had wandered from the nearby foothills, disoriented by the Friday earthquake…and were entering the city of Redmond in search for food in the way of deer and rabbit and small pets. 

“You can bet your sweet tush,” Madden continued.  “A long tail and four mammoth paws all reaching the ground.  Right outside our dog run.  He’s ‘bout the size of Hoss. And kids are home from school today.”  It was the Sunday of the Thanksgiving four-day weekend. 

“Well soldiers,” Eisenhower started with his John Wayne drawl.  “Somebody best ring Animal Control ‘n get that beast taken away before it hurts somebody.”

“Horsefeathers,” Spitz said aloud.  “Animal Control will take hours.  Especially on a Sunday morning.  Think we need to take matters into our own hands…”

“Or paws if you prefer,” Madden chuckled. 

“The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in war.” Socrates spoke with a yawn.

 

“Okay…time out everyone.  These dangerous situations are my sweet spot…my training if you will.”  Eisenhower (Ike for short) spoke with military precision. “Cover and concealment. Movement under attack.  As well as a simple warrior ethos.”

“Ethos?” Madden parroted him. “My aren’t we getting snooty?”

“Okay,” Mama intervened.  “Madden, we can do without the sarcasm. Ike is just being helpful.  That’s his profession.”

“A professional lion trainer?”  Madden continued with a slanted smile.

“He’s big,” Spitz added.  “He can certainly take someone out if he wants.”

“Well, let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with.” Mama said as she rose up from the blankets and migrated towards the doggy door.  The others, even sleepy Socrates, followed in her wake.

As they all assembled outside in the dog run, their collective breathing created a low-lying ground fog.  The mountain lion was nowhere to be seen.

“Very interesting,” Ike, with his sniffing snout poking through the chain link fence, said.  He closely eyed the ground outside the dog run. Fresh paw indentations can be seen in the frosty grass leading to Blazing Bagels in the back.  There was a narrow corridor between Sasha’s and Blazing Bagels that was of little use other than for storing broken pallets, a rusted push mower and ankle-high weeds. Certainly a secluded spot where a mountain lion could sleep or hide. Few people were yet on the street though this was traditionally the busiest shopping weekend of the year.  Though vehicle traffic had picked up as if the earth hadn’t awakened and Christmas was on the horizon.    

“He might have gone around back, behind Blazing Bagels,” Spitz explained.  “See his tracks moving that direction.” 

“Ike, what do you suggest?” Mama asked.

“Alright troops, now walk carefully…this is a potential crime scene,” Ike spoke with a calculated voice of authoritative persuasion. 

“This is not Hawaii-Five-0!” Madden mused.

“Oh hush,” Hoss reprimanded.  “This is serious stuff.”

“Madden,” Mama concurred.  “We love you.  But please cease with your constant ridicule.  It’s not productive and it’s vitally important we get this resolved immediately…before any person or any beast gets hurt.”

“You think I’m ‘fraid of a stinkin’ cougar?” Madden scoffed, sounding like the pugilist lion in Wizard of Oz, shadow boxing.

“Oh…and most importantly,” Mama continued.  “Nobody or no thing gets hurt.  Even the cougar.  Are we clear on that?” She briefly eyed Ike and then fixed her accusatory stare upon Madden, who squirmed a bit under the weight of her gaze.”

“Okay,” Madden blustered.  “I’m sorry.  Just teasing.”

“So Ike,” Mama said.  “Get us a plan together…one where no one gets hurt.”

With that, Ike performed an immediate about face and undertook a military march back into Sasha’s to write his short novella: How to Safely Capture a Mountain Lion for Dummies.  Immediate steps they needed before anyone was harmed.   

“Nobody go outside without my say-so,” Ike barked instructions as he discreetly scrawled his plan in the layered dirt of the rubber floor using his right paw…this his highly classified document.  One could see his jowls lightly move as he growled aloud to himself.  The other dogs anxiously awaited their war assignments as their Normandy invasion moment approached.  Meanwhile, the female police officer returned with a dark-haired teary-eyed woman in her early 40s in tow.  “Hello?” the police officer called out.

“Right there,” I answered, hurrying to the reception area. The woman appeared forlorn, maybe without sleep, her tight ebony curls in a mild uprising and a color snapshot grasped tightly, but lovingly, in her right hand.  “You have my boy Lucky here?” Here voice trembled with both dread and excitement.

“Thank you,” I said to the officer before turning to the woman.  “We do…but he had to go to the vet.”

“Oh no…what is it?” she asked, her breathing accelerating as she sniffled.  “That’s my boy…Lucky.  My boys’ dog.” She held out the photo to me and I could see Lucky, tongue out and eyes shining with two cherub-faced boys, probably brothers, in their early teens, arms wrapped adoringly about Lucky’s neck with sunflower smiles.

“He’s got a cancer in his…” I started.

“A cancer?” Alarm infiltrated her eyes. “What kind?”

“I’m sorry…as I was about to say, it’s in his spleen.”

“Uh…I don’t even know what a spleen is,” she pleaded.  “Is it, uh, you know.  Terminal?”

I wanted to answer carefully, recognizing her fragile state, yet I didn’t want to mislead her either.  “To be honest, any cancer is a concern,” I explained. “And not knowing where you were…well, we had to make a decision.”

“You didn’t have him put down did you?” A single sob of panic powered her words.  The officer tenderly laid a reassuring arm on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

“Oh…no.  God no,” I reassured her.  “Rather he’s likely in surgery right now to remove the cancer…if possible.  My wife’s a nurse and she’s with him.”

“Is the surgery dangerous?” she asked.

“It can be,” I clarified. “But this vet is a cancer specialist.  Dr. Coleman and she believes…based upon her tests that there’s a reasonable chance of success…uh, if the spleen doesn’t hemorrhage during the procedure.”

“Where is he?”
“At an animal hospital up north in Snohomish.  A bit over an hour away.”

“Maybe I should go be with him?” she suggests.

At that moment, if on cue, my phone rang.  Wife calling.  I held up a pause finger to the officer and woman.  “Morning sweetheart,” I answered.  “Uh huh.”  I nodded.

The woman explored my face for answers.  “It’s my wife…they’re just getting ready to anesthetize Lucky.  She’s a nurse down at Overlake…but spending today with your boy.”

“Can I talk to him?” the woman asks.

“Sure,” I said, “Think that can be arranged,” I switched my phone to speaker. 

“He’s just had a shot to relax him first,” My wife explains.  “Then he’ll be out for the surgery.  Maybe a few hours.   But he can hear fine right now.  Go ahead and let him know you’re here.”

Without further encouragement, she crouched slightly and leaned into my phone.  “Lucky baby…this is mommy,” she held back her tears.  “You hang in there uh, these people are going to help you. Mommy loves you so, so, so much!  The boys too.”

“He’s wagging his tail,” wife exclaims.  “He hears you. The team is ready to knock it outta the park.”

“Oh…please take care of him,” the woman grasps the photo tighter, her hands doing what her words could not.  Embracing her baby.

“He’s got the A team here,” wife quipped. “They’re taking excellent care of him.  And God will abide us as well.”

“Please…he’s only five…has plenty of life left in him,” the woman begged.

Overheard from a distance: “Hey, this is Doctor Coleman…we need to move on with the procedure now.  Should be a couple hours.  We got your boy covered.” 

Suddenly, the Sasha’s gang began a collective howl from the roller derby room, as they spied the predator in their front parking lot stealthily nosing at the chain link dog run.  Though not connected to Turquoise at the moment, I could nearly sense the conversation as Ike shouted orders: “This is a red alert.  We have a visual on the intruder.  I repeat, we have a visual.  Implement now Plan B.”

In silent unity, the woman cried out: “Please don’t let my Lucky die…oh please.” .…(to be continued)