Bama's Story

Although Bama's miracle was not the physical healing I had hoped, her true miracle was how she touched the lives of so many people. If you are new to her story, please begin with the first post to learn more about this remarkable little dog. Even though she is no longer physically in this life, she continues to give.

To Honor Bama's Vets, Techs, and Vet Staff

Today I needed to stop by the vet hospital, and I was again touched by the compassion of the vets, techs, and administrative staff. They are also grieving Bama's loss; how they loved that little dog! The vet I spoke to today talked about how their body of knowledge increased dramatically by treating such a severely injured dog. I believe many vets would have given up before they started, but the vets and techs at the vet hospital and emergency clinic were as committed to fighting with Bama as I was. We all saw how much my little lamb wanted to live. They gave her an invaluable 30 days, much of it spent where she most wanted to be--at home with her family. Their approaches were creative and innovative. And when they could do no more, they understood that Bama and I needed to be together as she was dying. They not only made room for my Dad and me in the midst of all the other work they had to do, including vital work they needed to do for Bama, they continually asked us if there was anything we needed or anything they could do for us.

Do I regret not taking her to Virginia Tech? Not for a second. These people were meant to be in our lives at this time. Bama imprinted their hearts for a reason, and they were the exact people we needed to give her this precious extension of life. I am honored that they were in the right place at the right time to be there for us.

I hope that none of them will waste energy second guessing themselves. I will not taint Bama's memory with false guilt, and I don't want any of them to do so either. Hindsight is always 20/20. The usefulness of that hindsight is not to say, "If only, if only." Bama's legacy is to take the new knowledge and use it to save other beloved pets in the future. All of the vets, techs, and administrative staff have played an invaluable role in Bama's miracle.

Vets and techs have an extremely stressful job. If you are like me, you have probably taken them for granted over the years of your pets' lives. I will never do so again. They see the wonders of healing at times, but they are also the ones who must inject the needle or hold the animal when no more can be done. Along with examples of the best of humanity, they also see the worst, as well as the animals who suffer at their hands. Their hours are long and their sacrifices many. I am grateful for the work they do.

Because they were touched by Bama, I have invited the vets and techs who worked with her to share their thoughts about her here. I also hope that the administrative assistants will share their memories of Bama. Dad and I visited the hospital or emergency clinic with Bama everyday. Their smiles and courtesy helped make those times much easier.

The comments of these professionals are a way to help memorialize Bama and a way to honor their efforts on her behalf. I also invite any of you who are reading to share your thoughts about Bama as well as any stories you have about how vets, techs, and other vet staff that have worked with your beloved pets have made a difference in your life.

Buster Pouts

After my father's 14-year-old dog Jazzie died, a "funny beagle thing" (as one of the vets calls him) that had adopted us a few months earlier became Dad's dog. (In the picture, Dad takes Buster for a speed walk using his scooter. I think he was impressed when he saw an older guy walking a dog that way on The Dog Whisperer and decided he could do it, too!) Dad went to Georgia to visit my brother's family over Christmas, and Buster would go to Dad's closet and sniff his clothes and then look at me as if to say, "Where is he? Is he coming back?"

Anyway, Bama usually sticks close to me and Buster sticks close to Dad, even sleeping on his bed with him at night. BigDog goes back and forth between the two of us.

Both dogs have been gentle and sweet with Bama. The picture is of BigDog sniffing Bama a few days after the accident. "What happened to you?" he seems to be asking.

Yesterday afternoon, Dad poochsat Bama while I went to finish up some things at my old job. I placed Bama in the soft crate on the floor beside the chair Dad sits in when he watches TV. When I got home, Dad said, "Did you see Buster?"

"Yes," I said. "He and BigDog greeted me at the door."

Dad shook his head. "I've been looking for him all afternoon. I thought he got out somehow when I took Bama outside for a bit. I even shook the jar with chicken jerky treats. [The dogs LOVE those!] BigDog came running for a treat, but Buster never showed up."

We finally figured out he had been hiding under a day bed in my bedroom all afternoon, apparently in protest of Dad giving all that attention to Bama. Oh, well. I guess we'll get all the dynamics straightened out when Bama is well.

Bama had surgery today. They were adding some sutures to tighten the wounds more. I didn't get to talk to the vet today when I picked her up, but the tech said she's continuing to improve. I know they are necessary, but surgery days are tough. Bama takes quite a while to shake off the grogginess from the anesthesia.

Keeping Up with Bama

Road Runner

I let Bama walk around the parking lot while my father was in the doctor's office today. I couldn't believe how energetic she was! It won't be long before it will be challenging to keep up with her. She's practically running on those bandaged legs!
You can see where they clipped her back leg. She had a wound there that is healed. The scar is already fading. She's beginning to look much more alert--truly bright-eyed and bushy tailed!

Bama's Pill Pusher--Literally!

I've bemoaned the challenge that giving Bama her pills has become. Yesterday, I bought a pill crusher and tried crushing the three pills she has to take at the same time and adding them to her yogurt. It works! She still swallowed the yogurt without hesitation. Whew!

Learning to Cope with a Not On-Purpose from Oprah's Guests

Some great news about Bama
Today one of the vets told me with a wide smile that Bama looked "awesome!" when they changed her bandages today. Also, she's getting feisty again. Shoving pills down her throat is becoming a huge challenge--much different from when I first started doing so. At that point, she was pretty much "whatever." Now I'm beginning to think she's a reincarnated wizard. I'm even trying to disguise the pills with her food. I'll think I have it down her throat, and then I turn around for minute. Surprise! There's a grungy looking pill stuck somewhere on her e-collar! It's all good, though. I would much rather have her acting like the old Bama, even though it's not as convenient.

Coping with a Not On Purpose
As you can imagine, what happened to Bama burdened me with incredible guilt. If only, if only, if only. I've compartmentalized the guilt as I've tried to make decisions and care for Bama, but it's still there.

I happened to catch Oprah last Friday when guests were discussing life lessons. A grandmother talked about the horror of accidentally running over and killing her grandchild with her SUV. (The person I bought my van from promised to get me sensors since he had misled me that the model I was getting already had them, but once he sold me the car, he never followed through. I wonder if those sensors would have warned me that Bama was dangling behind my van.) Another woman talked about how she fell asleep while driving and three of her six children were killed. It was agonizing to hear their pain. I am so grateful that Bama is improving. This mother and grandmother had no way to bring their loved ones back.

Dr. Robin Smith gave wise counsel regarding the false guilt we experience when we have a not on-purpose. She said letting go of the guilt would be giving ourselves a "get-out-of-jail free card." We punish ourselves, somehow believing that doing so will chip away at the pain and loss that happened from the accident. Not so. We must allow (not forgive, which implies that we did something wrong) ourselves to be human. You can read more of Dr. Smith's comments at the link I've provided above. (http://www2.oprah.com/tows/pastshows/200706/tows_past_20070601.jhtml )

When I first e-mailed people about what happened to Bama, some of my friends replied with stories of their own experiences with a not on-purpose. It was incredibly difficult to admit to people what I had done. In fact, when strangers ask me what happened to Bama when they see her covered in bandages. I usually reply "Car." Most of them will create their own story with that much information and not ask me any more questions. However, I realize from the responses of my friends who are burdened by false guilt in their lives that is important for me to share this experience. That is one of the primary reasons I have made this blog public.

The reality is that we are out of control with much of what happens in our lives, as much as we would like to believe otherwise. I think guilt over a not on-purpose is one of the ways we convince ourselves that we are somehow omnipotent. I have inattentive ADD, and my life is full of brain glitches that lead to a not on-purpose. This program helped me realize that instead of dragging a ball and chain of guilt around with me, I need to accept my humanity and move forward to bring as much good as possible from tragedy. I appreciate the courage of that mom and grandmother for helping me learn this important lesson. They have certainly brought good into my life by sharing their stories.

When I First Met Bama

The accident is not the first challenge that Bama has faced. Here's the story of how Bama came into my life.

I was devastated by the loss of my beloved papillon Spockie. As a way to cope with my grief, I wanted to rescue a papillon. I searched the rescue organizations and Petfinder.com (see banner at the bottom of this page) to try to locate a little pap. Two times I came close. At the last minute, the foster parents changed their mind. Once, I decided to run my e-mail another time before I walked out the door for the five-hour drive to pick up a dog. The foster parent had sent me an e-mail that she had "decided to keep the dog for her very own." Sigh.

About six months after I lost Spockie, I decided that all I really needed was a little dog with big ears. I was driving past a Petsmart that had a sign announcing a pet adoption day, sponsored by the local SPCA. Something told me I was going to find my dog there. As I walked around looking at the dogs, a little blonde dog jumped up to the top of her pen to greet me. She had big ears! I scratched her head between them. Then I heard a little girl behind me talking to her mother about the dog. "Please, Mom," she said, "That's the cutest little dog I've ever seen!"

Well, if you know me, you know I was going to let the child have the dog.

One of the SPCA staff saw me walking away and said, "Do you want that dog?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, but I believe that little girl wants her."

"If you think you want that dog," she said, "you go back and get her. They haven't taken her yet."

I obediently picked the little dog up. It was like lifting a feather. You could see every bone in her body, including her spine and hip bones. Bama weights close to 20 pounds now. At six months, she only weighed 12.

I took the little dog over to the table where the SPCA staff were located and sat down with her on my lap. I petted her as I talked to another staff member. I told her how I had lost my papillon. I was surprised when she said they had a black-and-white papillon at the local shelter (same coloring as Spockie) that they had rescued from a puppy mill. I looked down at the little dog in my arms and said, "What do you think? Do you want to go home with us?" She licked me on the cheek, sealing the deal. I realized at that moment I was healing from my grief. Initially, a papillon was my only desire. At that point, my desire was to have the dog I was supposed to have, even if that dog was a little mixed breed that looked like a lamb.

Although I took Bama, I was able to help rescue the papillon. The little guy in the shelter had severe behavioral issues, and the SPCA staff were concerned they were going to have to euthanize him. They didn't know about the papillon rescue organization, so I helped them make the contact. A few months later, I saw the dog I thought might be the one the SPCA had told me about on the papillon rescue website. I e-mailed the contact person, and she said yes, that was the dog and I probably saved it's life. Without their expertise, the dog would not have overcome its behavioral issues. I'm thankful I was able to bring something good out of the death of little Spockie.

So Bama came home with me. I thought she was going to be a quiet dog, but when she finally had some food in her, she became lively. She was skittish and afraid of everyone and everything for quite a while after I first got her. I tried feeding her in a crate, thinking she would feel safer because of my other dogs, but she seemed depressed and refused to eat when she was crated. I wonder whether she was in a puppy mill with a confused breeder and spent her first six months crated. What I do know, is that whatever her circumstances were, the owner did not even make the effort at least to throw her food once in a while. The fact that she had so much disdain for being crated is another reason I've been thankful that the vet hospital has allowed me to care for her at home as much as possible.

It's amazing to think how far she has come since she first came home with me. Her sweet, open temperament is much different than the scared-of-everything little dog I took into my home and heart.

From that first night I brought her home from Petsmart, Bama has slept cuddled next to me. Since the accident, she is sleeping in a soft crate that I have placed on my bed next to me. I leave the mesh door rolled up so that I can pet her and she can see me. She always liked to burrow under the covers next to me, and I think the soft crate gives her that feeling. Instead of the anxiety she seems to experience in a metal crate, this crate seems to help her relax.

I feel so fortunate that I still have her in my life.

Past the "Omigosh" Stage

I sent this e-mail about Bama on May 26:

The vet told me today that he thought Bama was past the “Omigosh,-she’s-going-to-die stage”!

The concern now is that her ongoing surgeries and care are going to run into several thousand dollars—not the best time to be out of a job! It is a good time to learn about faith and continue to be inspired by the miracle of this little dog’s determination. I believe that good will come of this—my hope is that eventually she will be able to be Delta certified so I can take her to visit kids who have been burned. I think Bama will give them hope.

(Here's a picture of BigDog when he visited hospitals and women's shelters. He was dressed as Elvis for Halloween.)

Buster Thinks Bama Is An Alien!

This is an e-mail I sent friends on May 14 about Bama (five days after the accident). We were still afraid we were going to lose her at this point. She had stayed at the emergency clinic over the weekend:

Bama is still hanging in there. Last night I talked to the vet at the emergency clinic, and she was concerned about some of Bama’s wounds. Dad and I went down to see her at 12:30 AM. She perked up when she saw us. I wanted them to let me hold her all night, but they refused. Because I drank caffeine to stay awake when I drove there, I only got an hour of sleep before I had to get up to get her from the Emergency Vet before 7:30. (If you are up to 30 minutes late, they charge you an extra 30 dollars. If you are more than 30 minutes late, they “dispose” of your animal as abandoned. You all know me well enough to know that added to my sleep challenges.)

They have been filling her with so many fluids that she is looking pretty chunky. We took her to a park today before taking her back to the vet hospital this morning. She ate some egg and made huge liquid and semi-solid deposits on the grass. She was wagging her tail the whole time she was walking around on the grass. We took the other two dogs out of the car one at a time to see her. BigDog gave her kisses, and she kissed him back. Buster was scared of her e-collar at first—he looked at her like she was an alien! When I started touching her face, he decided she was safe and came over to greet her. She gave him her standard low-growl, I’m-in-charge-here-and-don’t-you-forget-it,-Bub comment. She’s a strong spirit, that one.

The vet was going to remove some more dead skin today. The way I handle something like this is to research it. I found some info on copper peptides being effective for all mammals to heal wounds and regenerate skin. The vet is going to read the research and decide about using that technique if a local pharmacy can compound some. He says he also uses sugar to help with granulation of wounds.

I told him that I hope when she is past all this that I might be able to take her to the hospital to provide pet therapy for kids who have been burned. I could tell he was touched by the thought. They all love Bama. I hope we can find some way to bring something good out of this awful tragedy.

Not an On-Purpose

For those of you who don’t know, talking about what happened to Bama on May 9 is painful. Many of my family, friends, and colleagues have expressed interest in following Bama's story, so I thought would start a blog to share her progress toward recovery. Her fight to survive is remarkable.

I have three dogs: BigDog, Buster, and Bama. (This picture is from my 2006 Christmas card. Bama is the smallest dog. All three are loveable mutts. I'll share Bama's rescue story in a later post.) My father also lives with me. Dad and I were making a quick trip to to pick up a belt for the tractor. The dogs love to ride, so we put them in the back of the van. We have blankets and a water bowl that's designed not to spill when I drive so they travel in comfort. We are careful to leave the air conditioning or heater on when we leave them in the car, if the weather dictates. To prevent Bama and Buster from jumping out of the van when we open the latch, we attach their leashes to the seat belts.

On this particular afternoon, I put BigDog in the back of the van in front of Bama. I closed the hatch with the remote. When we came back from the errand, Dad said, "Where's Bama?" I looked down at his hands, and he was holding Bama's leash and empty collar that were caught in the hatch. I did not realize she had jumped over BigDog and out of the van before I closed the hatch. The seat belt extended enough that she was able to land on the ground but not get away from the van. I had dragged her behind the van without realizing it. We had no idea what had happened to her. We didn't see any blood on the road, and I hoped she slipped the collar before she was injured.

It took us hours to find her. After driving up and down the road calling for her, I took the other two dogs out to look for Bama, but they were soon panting heavily from being unaccustomed to temperatures in the low 90's. I had to take them inside to cool them off. I became concerned about Bama having heat exhaustion, along with other injuries.

I quickly made a lost dog poster and plastered the area with it. A kind person at a nearby trailer park found her and called me after seeing the poster. Bama was lying on the driveway in front of the trailer when we finally located her over six hours after we ran the errand. When I called her name, she dragged her back legs trying to get to me. She had serious road burns all over her body. I was devastated. Thank God she had finally slipped the collar.

We rushed her to the emergency vet clinic. When they took her in a room to examine her, I stroked her head and kept blubbering, “I’m so sorry, Bama; I’m so sorry, Bama.”

One of the technicians smiled gently at little Bama and said, “Tell her ‘That’s why they call it an accident instead of an on-purpose, Mom.” Yes, it was an accident, but I kept wishing there was some way I could go back in time and undo it.

The emergency clinic gave her fluids to stabilize her until the next morning.

When we picked her up from the emergency clinic and took her to the local vet hospital the next morning, the vet was honest with us that saving Bama was going to be an extensive investment of time and money (thousands of dollars). It was going to be a lot to put her and us through. She had lost over 25% of her skin, and wounds on her side, stomach, and thigh were extremely wide and deep. Bama also had extensive wounds on her legs and feet.

I did not make the decision out of guilt, although I felt plenty of it. As difficult as it would have been, if I believed the best thing would have been to euthanize Bama and end her suffering, I would have made that choice. I thought about how Bama managed to live those hours in that heat with those injuries. She had tried so hard to come to me when she heard my voice, despite her pain. The look on her face said, "You are finally here. I've been waiting."

It is incredible to think that a creature would love you so much that she would fight so hard to stay with you. I told the vet, “If she fought so hard to live, how can we do anything but fight with her? We will find a way.” Despite the fact that I had just lost my job, I knew what I said was true.

I am so proud of this little dog. In the blogs that follow, you will understand why. I believe that good will come from this tragedy. Her determination has already deeply affected my life. After 16 years of chronic pain from a car accident—often excruciating pain, I was ready to give up and go on disability rather than try to start over with a new job. But in my heart, like little Bama, I know that I have more to give. She has inspired me to try again.

Thanks for your good wishes for her recovery!