Preparing for an unfortunate future

I’m at a friend’s house when we hear a terrible cry, and one of her dogs runs into the room.

Bik’s a little dog, a mixed breed, part-corgi, part-poodle and parts of other breeds too. He’s also the baby of the family, the dog my friend’s children talk to, play with and even sleep with. The two other dogs sleep outside, acting as guard dogs.

Right now, Bik looks terrified, staring at my friend with frightened eyes as blood pours out of a wound on his front leg.

“What should we do?” my friend asks me helplessly.

I’m not a vet. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to get down on the floor to examine a dog whom I’ve never met before and who doesn’t know me.

The daughters, 14 and 15 years old, are not much help either. They’re close to tears, waiting for their mother to do something, but she’s frozen in her chair.

“Bring some towels,” I tell the girls. Happy to take some action, they run off. They come back with two cotton hand-cloths.

“No, no,” I tell them. “These won’t absorb anything. Do you have some small bath towels?” They run off again.

I wrap one towel around the frightened dog’s eyes, and the other one around the leg. In fact, the wound doesn’t look too bad, but it’s big enough to require stitching.

“Phone your vet to say your bringing your dog in,” I tell my friend, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the vet’s number. I don’t even know where the clinic is. My husband always takes care of that,” she says.

One of the daughters finally phones her father and gets the number and address of the clinic.

The bleeding has slowed down, but if too much time passes, the tissues will swell, and it will be difficult to sew up the wound.

Of course, the wound should have been cleaned first, but I doubted that this household has the capacity to clean the bleeding leg. They probably don’t have any antiseptic either.

How could a home with two children and three dogs not have a first-aid kit of some kind? Perhaps, up to now, my friend and her family have been living fortunate lives.

Check out the Internet, and you’ll find recommendations from vets about what you should have in such a kit. Unfortunately, the lists are a bit too thorough, containing about 30 items.

In my household, the list is much shorter. My vet’s number is in my phone. In the kit I have: cotton buds, antibiotic lotion, antiseptic spray and a combination antibiotic/antiviral cream. I keep a pile of towels of different sizes in a cupboard just in case I need them.

In another kit, I keep the animals’ non-emergency medications, such as antihistamine pills, anti-swelling pills, a few steroid pills.

I’ve marked the date when each packet went into the kits, and, depending on the medication, I update it regularly.

No, I don’t have bandages (except for me). From experience, every one of my animals will remove the bandage within two minutes. I also have thermometers, but it takes two people to hold one of my pets down to check the temperature.

In the end, the vet has to stitch up little Bik’s wound, which, we find out later, was probably caused when the dog accidentally walked on some rusty wire in the garden. The vet also keeps the dog in the clinic for a week to make sure the wound is kept clean. Besides, the family doesn’t know how to give him the medication he needs.

It’s wonderful to live a fortunate life – as long as you’re prepared for misfortune too.