Fifty:fifty!

“Her chances are fifty:fifty,” Emilie sobbed into the telephone, barely able to breathe.  Her best friend lay on the operating table, fighting for her life.  “They are asking me if I want them to keep going to try to save her.”

We knew Nellie wasn’t feeling well that hot July weekend, but figured it was just homesickness for Emilie who was on the road with work coupled with the oppressive humidity and heat.  This normally vibrant Border Collie had come through a lot in the past eight months, having survived major surgery to free her small intestine from the effects of a deadly bungee cord that had become lodged inside her.  That benign "chew toy" had become a lethal weapon threatening to kill Emilie’s hardworking dog last December.

Thankfully, through the skilled hands of her veterinary surgeon, Nellie had bounced back from that episode and had resumed her life’s purpose of herding cattle and being Emilie’s four-legged best friend.  The hardest part of her recuperation was slowing her down, and keeping her “quiet.”  Anyone who has ever owned a Border Collie understands the impossibility of abiding by that medical recommendation.  Nevertheless, we limited her playtime with her siblings for several weeks until we felt she could handle the rough-and-tumble games that these brilliant dogs devise to occupy their idle time.  Fortunately for Nellie, she was mending during the winter so the cattle work was limited since the herd was confined to single pastures where they were expecting and delivering new calves.

We do not use Nellie on cows with new calves, but save her energy and speed for handling weanlings and yearlings.  She tolerates no slackers when she enters the pasture and rapidly sends them to the gate and greener grass to satisfy their insatiable appetites.  Her speed is too much for newborn calves and their protective dams.  We save her talents for later when manners have to be put on testy calves.

Nellie’s amazing abilities were apparent from the time she was a year-old pup and we introduced her to the Herefords.  At one point in her early experience, she rushed in too close to a cow’s hind foot and was sent somersaulting backwards when the hoof connected with her head.  Startled and shaken, Nellie looked like she was ready to run for the safe haven of the farm house.  She looked at Emilie who was equally frightened for the safety of her pup.  Knowing this episode would make or break her talented herding dog, Emilie calmly told her to “get the cow.”  Nellie never looked back, and dived into her herding heritage with assertion that has never subsided.  She has never allowed a cow to connect with her since then, and has commanded their respect for seven years.

Emilie had hoped to breed Nellie to capture her genetics in a litter of future cattle dogs.  Unfortunately, the timing never was right for Nellie or us.  Now at eight years old, Nellie developed a uterine infection that was trying to claim her life.  What we thought would be a relatively simple spay at the animal hospital became more complicated when it was discovered that the enlarged organ had ruptured and the infection had spilled out into Nellie’s abdomen.

Could she survive the surgery and the poisons that were pouring into her system?  Would it be better to just euthanize her?  These were questions Emilie had only a few moments to wrestle with as she waited at the clinic.  She wanted confirmation on whether she was making the right choice.  When she called, I tried to reassure and calm my daughter, but felt like crying, too.

“Nellie is strong and is a fighter,” I said, trying to be confident.  “She is in better shape than most dogs, and loves you.  That will pull her through this.”  My unspoken thoughts found me wondering whether we were asking too much of this brave little dog.  Emilie gave the instruction to proceed with the surgery and we all hoped for the best.

Lots of friends and family said “puppy prayers” for Nellie.  And they were answered.  She survived the surgery and has been on the road to recovery for almost two weeks.  She came home to the farm last Thursday and has been a good sport about taking her pills and resting.  With each day, she seems to be moving slowly toward full recovery.  This morning, for the first time since she became ill, she is playful and her eyes sparkle with mischief.  She never quit smiling for Emilie, throughout the ordeal.  But now she is giving all of us another reason to smile.  Nellie has beaten the odds so far.  I am optimistic she will soon be one hundred percent of her Border Collie self (minus a section of small intestine and an unused uterus) thanks to a lot of tender-loving-care from the skilled veterinary surgeon, technicians, and most importantly, Emilie.

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