“Stay With Me, Buddy”

Life and Death. That is the commonality between Jack Bauer’s action adventures on the TV series 24 and working in a dog kennel in the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. 24 premiered in 2001 and spanned 192 episodes over eight seasons, with the series final broadcast showing in 2010. It followed a Counter Terrorist Unit agent, Jack Bauer, as he attempted to thwart multiple terrorist plots around the world.  I lived in the desert from 2004 until 2010. My stint there was initially a 6-month sabbatical that ended up spanning 6 years. I was healing from some deep life wounding which led me to metaphorically hide out at the home of a friend who is an AKC all-breed dog confirmation judge and breeder of gorgeous golden retrievers and Chinese Crested. I helped take care of the dogs.

I am not fond of desert creatures, especially those that can kill you. Rattlesnakes, of course. Others include Gila monsters, scorpions, Killer bees. And, I grew to despise the Colorado River toads. These toads are ugly. They have slimy, leathery, army-green skin. At an average of 7 ½ inches long, they are the largest toads in the United States. They came into our inner yard during the monsoon season. There were always 2 to 10 at any one time hanging out in the yard despite the thick stucco covered straw bale walls that surrounded the property.

One evening when I was out in the yard, I noticed a Chinese Crested foaming at the mouth and having a seizure. I called out for my friend who came running, grabbed the hose with one hand and the dog in the other and began running water into the dog’s mouth, flushing it out. She continued doing this for 45 minutes, which felt like hours. I thought she would surely drown the dog. It was unconscious much of the time and was clearly fighting for its life. I stood by dumbfounded not understanding what had happened. When the dog finally came around and was okay, I learned that it had touched the head of a toad, whose toxic poison had gotten onto the dog’s tongue and almost killed her. Evidently, the poison affects a dog’s neurological system and kills more dogs in the desert than rattlesnakes.

Now my 3 dogs came out into this particular yard many times throughout the day. I had never killed any animal in my life but I became obsessed with protecting my dogs. At first I brought out a shovel and tried timidly bopping them over the head. Then I got more serious, confidant, mad. I went into the shed and found an ax and a pitchfork. I emailed my sister: “I have become an ax murderer”. She did not understand my message, seriously wondering if I had lost the plot. In a way I had. I killed them with a vengeance only a mother protecting her baby can comprehend. At first I thought a lot about taking one life to save another. I considered Buddhist teachings. I wondered about karma. But soon I was killing those toads with no conscious thoughts at all. I took it on myself to keep that yard toad-free.

During this time frame we were watching 24. We wouldn’t miss it! It helped me with my feelings about killing the toads to watch Jack and his morally out-of-the-box dealings with Life and Death. He seemed to hold onto a bigger picture than just one life. He was attempting to save all of civilization. In one show he said to his partner, “Right now there are many lives at stake and the death of this one man is crucial in that operation. Do you understand me?” I decided I needed to take on Jack as an alter ego and found that dealing with the toads then took on even more profound meaning. I was caught in a process that I did not like and did not understand. Life and Death. Jack reminded me when I wavered...

Another time 2 litters of Chinese Crested puppies were born a few days apart and were infected within a week with Provo. They were fighting for their lives. My friend was working with them as I stood at a distance watching. She gave them subterranean shots every 4 hours and IV liquid to hydrate them day and night. Two puppies died. Then another. On the third day, she packed her bag. She was leaving to judge dogs in Pennsylvania. I asked the obvious. “Who is going to take care of the puppies?” “You are”, was her reply. “Oh, no!” I said. “I have never given a shot in my life, let alone IVs.” “No, I can’t take care of them.” As her car headed down the driveway I heard her say, “You have to, there is no one else.”

In my panic I thought, “What would Jack Bauer do?” I filed though episodes in my mind and landed on one where he had been dealing with stopping the detonation of a weapon of mass destruction. In it his partner had said to a badly wounded Jack, “You have to get up and get out there. If you don’t the entire operation will be lost—along with the lives of millions.” I vividly remember Jack agonizingly rolling up to standing and darting out of the room. If he could do that, perhaps I could take care of the puppies. During the next 4 days, I got more and more comfortable joining the fight for life with those puppies. I lost only one and the others improved. Lived.

Then there was Jessie. He was the Chinese Crested foundation stud dog at the kennel. He was old with dingy white curly hair and bad breath. He had always been a scrapper with other male dogs and with age had become even crankier. One morning I was cleaning the kennels and feeding the dogs. I had a young male dog with me in the hall, I don’t remember why. I came to Jessie’s metal door, opening it carefully so as not to drop the pan of food that I held in my left (non-dominant) hand. As I leaned over to put the pan down, Jessie leaped over me, ran to the end of the hall and attacked the young dog. 

The screaming was deafening. Without thinking I hurled the pan backhanded at the metal kennel wall near the fighting dogs. It hit with a clang and ricocheted right into Jessie’s neck, hitting the spot that can kill. The noisy kennel went silent. He was lying unconscious on the floor. I ran to him and picked him up. His eyes rolled back in his head and turned from a deep rich brown to a steely grey. I massaged his neck and found myself spontaneously saying the words Jack Bauer said in just about every episode. “Stay with me. Stay with me, Buddy!” The fear of losing the most important dog in the kennel petrified me. I kept massaging, coaxing him to stay with me, stay alive, come back. After about an hour he began to move in my arms and I was startled to hear my quiet sobbing. Life and Death. Jack and me.