Rio: A profile in courage

A 7:30 a.m. ruckus usually is no good.

Today’s was no exception. The squirrel high up in the maple tree in our backyard was caterwauling to wake the dead while Rio, our beloved little yellow lab, paced below, smiling, and occasionally barking at the clouds and squirrel above.

‘What have you done?’ I asked Rio as I stepped into the backyard. She immediately trotted over to me, tail wagging, head held high with pride.

Princess Sweet Pea Rio as a baby girl, sitting pretty.

As I directed Rio into the house, away from the cantankerous squirrel now screaming at both of us, I remembered a day several years ago when another ruckus took me into the backyard to find Rio standing, shaking, eyes wide, and clearly in great pain.

That day, a few days before Thanksgiving 2012, this athletic, spirited little dog tore her ACL while tear-assing around with her brother, Bravo.

When I saw her that day, I immediately knew something was terribly wrong. Rio never stands still for more than five seconds, eight max. That morning, I walked out to her in the middle of the yard and again asked: ‘What have you done?’ She whined and trembled.

I ran into the house, up the stairs and started changing from my pajamas into jeans and a sweatshirt so I could drive her to the emergency veterinarian. As I pulled up my jeans, Rio hobbled into the room to be with me. She, with an obviously injured right back leg, had come in from outside, climbed the stairs and made her way into our master bedroom.

That’s our girl. Rio really is one of the strongest beings I know.

After days of Xrays, what seemed to be pretty-great doggy drugs and blood tests, Rio’s torn ACL was repaired with an amazing surgery, TPLO. Fully known as a Tibial-Plateau-Leveling Osteomy, the surgery recasts the stifle (dog knee) joint by cutting the head of the Tibia and stabilizing the new joint with surgical plates. At least that’s how I understand it.

Rio pulled through the surgery without much difficulty. She rested and recovered on her favorite pillow. We visited the veterinarian for acupuncture sessions and we did physical therapy exercises. After about three months of recovery, our girl was back trotting around the yard, and chasing squirrels.

(She really is a squirrel assassin. I’ve had to dispose of some of her kills.)

Seeing Rio recovered and vibrant again was really heartening. The year before she tore her ACL, she and her brother saved my bacon.

Naughty Rio!

On July 8, 2011, I was hiking with both dogs on a user-friendly mountain in Boulder, CO. Mount Sanitas has several trails, easy, hard and harder. I have tried to get myself over the summit trail (harder) of Mount Sanitas and failed several times. The last time was a catastrophic failure.

While walking along a pretty easy descent, I slipped on some rocks. I fell to the ground in a middle-aged woman kind of grace and compound fractured my right ankle and leg.

I was alone, hadn’t seen many people on the trail that day, and badly injured.

When I assessed my mangled right leg, ankle jutted out at a 45-degree angle from the rest of my leg and bones poking through the skin, I knew I was in real trouble.

So, I took several deep breaths. Called for the dogs to come over to me, Bravo had been off leash and Rio was inspecting some nearby bushes when I fell.

Like the wonderful beasts they are, both dogs immediately came to my side. Bravo laid down beside me on the ground and Rio sat at my head. As I started to holler for help, Rio started barking. Loudly.

It was the most amazing show of support. I get teary eyed thinking about it now.

Eventually, I was able to get a 911 call through on my mobile phone. Although the call broke off, the emergency operator was able to ping my phone and get my general location on the mountain. About 10 minutes into this, two unsuspecting men heard me calling for help and came over to see what was wrong. One guy turned white and almost fainted when he saw my leg. The other guy tried to stabilize it by putting an orange Home Depot bucket underneath. I have no idea why he had a bucket. That didn’t work. So, the guys scrambled to a higher part of the mountain and put out another 911 call.

The whole time, my dogs stayed with me. They knew I was hurt and they weren’t going anywhere, even Rio who has some canine ADD, I suspect.

Eventually, a ranger arrived and strapped an oxygen mask on my face. That didn’t help either. Then, a paramedic crew made its way to me with a backboard, all-terrain vehicle and some drugs. Thank Christ.

As the paramedics worked to splint my leg, a new group of rangers arrived and started talking about taking my dogs to the nearest humane society until I or The Weed could retrieve them.

This was not an option, I calmly explained through an oxygen mask and not enough pain meds. With tears streaming down my face, I said I refused to be taken to the hospital until someone could reach my husband at work and promise me he would be able to get the dogs.

Two rangers volunteered to call The Weed and wait on the mountain with Rio and Bravo until he could make his way up to get them. The Weed tells me that when he got to the dogs, after stopping to see me in the ER, they were resting beneath some trees, happy to see him and wondering why the hell I left them with some strange guys.

When I crutched home later that day with a newly aligned right leg, Rio was at the door to greet me. As I bent over to talk to her, she licked my face.

She did the same when I came home from my first chemotherapy session in 2013.

When I left for the recent hysterectomy/oophorectomy surgery, I got down on the floor with both dogs. I told them how much I love them and pledged to be home soon.

Rio is 11 years old now. Bravo is 10. They aren’t as spry as they used to be. Rio has a large lipoma on her left back leg. It’s ugly but doesn’t bother her. Bravo has a large bump along his left flank.

They both are showing signs of age. It’s difficult to see.

I know the day will come when they are no longer with me. I try not to think of this.

Instead, I think about Rio greeting me at the door, even when I smelled of cancer-killing drugs and hospitals. I think of her sitting beside me in some of my most vulnerable, sick, downright disgusting experiences.

She really is a good girl. One of the strongest I know.

Rio and Bravo on an adventure!