“You did good, Ringo. You’re a good boy, and you saved us from those dogs. Our family has been complete because of you and our boys count you as a best friend.”
I looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be part of a second attack and only saw people running towards us. They were calling out to each other—instructions maybe, but all I could hear was Ringo’s heavy breathing. Woosh in and almost a sigh on the exhale. Woosh sigh, woosh sigh. Everything was moving in slow motion.
“I’m with you right now,” I told him, looking into his fatigued eyes. “I’m right here, my good boy,” I said, hugging him. Blood stained my clothes, but I didn’t care. I looked deep into his eyes as never before and spoke to him.
“You can go right here, my friend. I am with you. Or fight and stay a while longer. I’m here for you, either way.”
I put my nose to his, awaiting a response or maybe a sign of his ultimate choice. He paused, not breathing for a few seconds, closing his eyes. I put my ear to his side, and there was no woosh or sigh—just stillness.
“Okay, my friend,” I told him, with tears running down my flushed cheeks. “We will give you a proper send-off, fit for a loyal companion.”
Adults around me were still yelling, but it fell on deaf ears. I latched on to the cry “Bingy! Bingy!” The voice was getting closer. It was Hendrix. I knew without turning around.
I turned to see him running full-on towards us, his little legs moving faster than the rest of him, like Fred Flintstone trying to get his Flintmobile going. He reached me, followed closely by Jake, who was apologizing for not catching him.
“Bingy, no!” he cried, hugging our friend and burying his head into Ringo’s fur. “Open your eyes!” he cried. “Open them, please!”
“I’m sorry, son. He’s had too much…he fought to protect us and...”
“Wait, Daddy! I hear him!” he called out, with his ear to Ringo’s chest. I rested my hand on him, and it was true. In, out, in and out. He was breathing quietly.
“Did you change your mind?” I asked him, putting a hand on his head, meeting him nose-to-nose. He opened one eye…and then the other…before licking me on the nose and laying his head on my knee.
“So, we fight?” I asked. He let out a bark—less than his former self but enough to know we were in this together, and he was not ready to lay down. Then in a split second, I could hear everything. The other dogs struggling to walk or drag themselves away, or unable to move but still alive.
* * * *
I heard the yells from far away. “We’re coming!” Nancy arrived first, then eight other people behind her.
“Stay back!” called Nancy. “Everyone just stay back! Lance, I need Ringo to focus on you so I can check him. If I tell you to hold him down, it’s for a good reason.”
“Okay,” I said, stroking his head and looking into his fatigued eyes.
“It’s okay, boy; she’s just going to check you out.” He was panting.
“Can someone get me some water?” she called out without turning around. “State your name, then go.”
“Uh, Aiden. I’ll be right back,” he added, running back towards the truck.
Mike walked slowly around the scene, with an eye on each dog still breathing. I caught his eye.
“Don’t worry, Lance. I won’t do anything to scare your dog, at least not yet.”
“Thank you,” I said, happy that at least this time he could read my mind.
Woosh sigh, woosh sigh, was the only sound, with occasional yips as Nancy felt a puncture wound.
“Wait, where’s Mini?” I said, not remembering seeing her.
“Vlad has her on the trailer,” said Jake. “She’s fine.” A full ten minutes later, Nancy whispered into my ear. “I have maybe good news and possibly bad news. The bad news first,” she said, without giving me a choice I was used to, although to be fair, I always pick the bad first.
“I’m not a veterinarian, but I was a medic. He’s going to need an expert, most likely. I can give him something for the pain and treat what I can see on the outside, but if there is internal bleeding, well, I just don’t know. I’ll get him sedated now, and we can get him on the trailer.”
“Is that the good or bad news or both?” I asked, not sure.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s the bad news. Jake and I know a country vet up the road, between Cañon City and Fairplay. Jake used to play football with his son in high school outside Boulder. They were the star quarterback and receiver.
“To be transparent, we haven’t seen him in a few years, since before we moved out of Boulder. He was getting up in years, but he moved up here when his son went to college. He was known as the best country veterinarian in this whole area. He always traveled to his appointments, driving as far as 100 miles if the price was right.”
“I’ll make the price right!” I blurted out. “Let’s get him on the radio and have him meet us halfway.
“I need Steve!” I said. “Somebody get Steve!” I shouted.
“Hold on. Slow down,” she told me. “He’s not a radio kind of guy. We can try to get through to someone up there, but I think it’s a long shot.”
“Will you please just give Steve his name and location?” I asked.
“Sure, I can do that. Bring the trailer around, Lonnie,” she called out. “We need to lift him.”
“What do you think Ringo weighs?” she asked me.
“He was 154 at his last vet appointment,” I replied, without having to think about the answer.
“Okay, we’re going to need a few people,”
