Punlished in a dog magazine

Poison in Paradise

A Labrador in coma

When we first saw her, she was sitting in a cardboard box on a street market in Portugal. We liked her instantly. She looked over the edge of the box with big, pleading puppy eyes as she stood on her hind legs and then clumsily fell back on top of her brother, who gave a little yelp.

“Is that a Labrador?” I asked. “I mean… a real one?”

The lady who was selling nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure is. And today she’s on sale.”

My children looked at me with the same pleading eyes as that black little lab in the box. “C’mon Dad…You always wanted a Labrador.”

And so Charlie became part of our household and quickly stole the hearts of everyone she met.

Virtually every child on the street would stop and ask if they could have a little ‘festinha’, literally meaning a little love-feast.

Portugal is the country where Labradors can be bought in cardboard boxes, where people smile and the sun is shining most of the time. It’s a wonderful place to live.

But there is a darker side.

It is also a country where dogs easily get abandoned. Big dogs, small dogs, breed dogs and mutts. All of them have a collar, and all of them try to survive. And sad to say, it’s also the country where some people believe in a strange solution to the problem. It’s called poison. Strychnine hidden in a piece of meat will quickly rid the streets of those vagabonds.

As we were about to find out…

It was a beautiful day. My wife and I rested on a bench on a ledge overlooking a green valley with a gurgling stream, some 20 meters below. It was a picture of paradise. However, a mean German shepherd dog living in a house nearby on the hills below didn’t agree. When he learned, there was a black Labrador standing on the rock above, safely out of reach of his angry jaws, all barking hell broke loose. After a while, it was accompanied by Portuguese shouting, “Cale a boca. Em silêncio.”

It was time to leave. Suddenly, a small thud caught our attention.

What was that? Had somebody thrown something?

We called Charlie, but she didn’t come.

Finally, she showed up. Looking a little guilty, but chirpy as ever.

„Time to go, girl. Let’s leave paradise.”

At home, Charlie didn’t want to eat.

Strange… And what’s wrong with her eyes? The sparkle is gone.

I guided her to her favorite spot, a chair in front of the window. She loved that spot.

“Come on Girl…Jump!”

And she jumped.

But right in mid-air, she froze. Every muscle in her body refused to work, and she dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. Her legs made spastic movements.

“Honey…Come quick. Something’s wrong with Charlie.”

We massaged her, and she regained control over her body.

What just happened?

“The vet. Call the vet!”

We carried her to the car and opened the door. She froze again. Another attack. I raced her to the vet, and within minutes Charlie was on the examination table.

The vet was a young, bubbly woman with a heart for animals. She looked doubtful as to what this could be.

”Your name is Charlie? OK, Charlie, we will fix you up.” She smiled.

But Charlie wasn’t too sure. She looked scared. Very scared. Some people claim dogs can’t show emotion. But they are wrong. Dogs talk with their expressions and when you are tuned in, you can tell exactly what’s going on.

Just then, Charlie had another spastic attack. Her legs stiffened and everything in her body trembled.

“She’s epileptic,” the vet whispered. “I have never seen it before.”

Epileptic? Can dogs have that?

“Or,” she continued… ”it could be poison. This looks like a typical strychnine reaction.”

Poison? Where did she get that? Suddenly I was reminded of the paradisiacal scene of the afternoon. I remembered the barking, the angry curses, the thud… The angry farmer had probably thought our dog was a street dog. He must have had some strychnine left in his basement, often used to get rid of rats, and decided to put it to good use. Thank you very much.

At this point, Charlie lost consciousness.

“She will have to stay here,” the vet said.

We understood.

“I don’t have much hope if it is poison,” she continued. “Most dogs like this die within 24 hours. I will take some blood samples, but start her on antidotes immediately.”

We nodded and left the clinic in silence.

That night was dreadful. We couldn’t sleep. A dog is part of the household. It’s not a child, but still, her presence was as real, and the thought of her life being snuffed out like this was unbearable.

The next day, she was in a coma. Nothing in her body moved except her labored breathing.

The vet looked grim.

“She’s still alive,” I offered hopefully, but she didn’t answer.

We called her name.

“Charlie…?”

Nothing. No movement. No hope.

In the afternoon, the vet confirmed that she had indeed been poisoned.

“Tonight she will probably die.” She averted our glance.

“Please God…It’s only a dog, but You keep her.”

But the next day, she was still around. Death had not snatched her away. However, there was no improvement, either.

“We just have to wait. It’s all we can do.”

“Charlie…?”

Nothing. She was more dead than alive.

And so it was the next day.

But the vet looked puzzled. “I am surprised she is still alive.”

“Charlie…?” We called her again.

What was that? Did her eyes twitch?

“Charlie…?”

And suddenly, unmistakably clear, the very end of her tail moved. It was barely visible, but it moved.

“Did you see that?”

We excitedly looked at the vet. She had seen it too.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered. “She heard your voice. She is still there. What a fighter.”

It was a turning point. Somehow, she was going to survive.

When we came to the clinic, the next morning, the vet ran out. She shouted.

“Charlie is awake… Charlie is awake.”  Then she proceeded to give us a big hug.

Unbelievable.

And indeed when we saw Charlie she had her eyes open and seemed to say, “What am I doing here? Get me out of this place.”

It was a wonderful sight to behold.

Thank you, God. How wonderful the world can be!

The next day, we took her home. She was extremely weak. We had to carry her out for her needs, but her strength returned and before long she was the subject again of countless little festinha’s on the streets.

Eventually, we moved back to Holland. Charlie has completely recovered. She acts like nothing has ever happened to her, but we know better. We keep a watchful eye. You never know what some people may leave behind.

The only things that remind us of the ordeal are a few spots on her fur. She never had those before, but they are unmistakably there. Two fluffy spots of white fur. They are her battle scars, but to us, they are like a medal of honor.