Oogy The Dog Only a Family Could Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the dog’s wounds, the bandage landed with a loud thump, as though it were made out of plaster of Paris. With his right hand, Dr. Bianco stroked the dog’s flank to calm him down and erase his fear. The pup offered absolutely no resistance. Dr. Bianco, too, was astonished that despite everything that had happened to him, and despite the way humans had so obviously mistreated him, the dog exhibited no signs of anxiety. He seemed to understand somehow that the people around him now were different from those who had controlled his life before; that they were kind, even though he had probably never before experienced human kindness.
    The pup’s ribs were prominent, which told Dr. Bianco that he was malnourished. His breathing was shallow, but he did not open his mouth for additional air, which was a sign of distress. His head and neck were caked with iodine brown dried blood. His features were horrifically damaged. There were multiple infected puncture wounds on the right side of his face and skull. The left side of his face and forehead were gone. What had been that side of his face, from just back of his muzzle to behind where his ear used to be, was now yellow green pus, oozing blood, and fully infected. All that remained of his left ear was a jagged stump. The tissue surrounding the yawning cavity where the left side of the pup’s face had been was dead and blackened; the rotted flesh smelled like meat that had been left out in the sun for days. The blood vessels on that side of his forehead had been torn apart. And yet, incredibly, although he had to have been in tremendous pain, he gave no indication of it.
    Based on the conditions he observed and the extent of ruin and infection he found, Dr. Bianco estimated that the dog had been lying untreated and unattended for five to seven days. He did not want to contemplate what the pup had endured during that period. Despite the fact that the pup had been losing blood the entire time, the ER doctors had not done a blood count or given him any transfusions. In his weakened state, the dog would surely have a difficult time surviving both the extensive infection and the shock of surgical trauma if Dr. Bianco were to operate, and operating offered the only chance of saving the dog’s life.
    Dr. Bianco gently removed his elbow and laid the pup’s head down on the table. The dog lay on his side, exhausted; his tail swatted feebly several times. Dr. Bianco rubbed the dog’s neck. Even with the pup’s face so swollen and mutilated, Diane thought that he was undeniably cute. She gently touched the top of the dog’s head and bent over him, her eyes on Dr. Bianco’s face.
    Dr. Bianco looked back at Diane. He shook his head in the negative and shrugged. He pursed his lips grimly, then said, “Diane, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can save this dog.”
    Diane straightened from where she had been crouched over the pup. She looked into Dr. Bianco’s eyes. “Dr. Bianco,” she said. “You’ve got to save this dog.”
    Dr. Bianco’s father and his uncles had all been craftsmen who worked with their hands. They were stonemasons, welders, and carpenters who had always taken great pride in what they created for the use of others. Dr. Bianco credits them with having given him the manual dexterity to be an exceptionally effective surgeon. With no other reason than the fact that helpless before him lay a victim of horrific abuse that might possibly be saved, and moved by Diane’s determination that every effort be made to preserve this life, Dr. Bianco started surgery.
    The operation lasted several hours. First, Dr. Bianco’s assistant gave the dog general anesthesia. Dr. Bianco then started him on an antibiotic treatment and flushed the hole where his face had been to clean the gaping wound. He cut away the dead tissue and inserted a Penrose drain into the exposed portion of the animal’s face, a plastic tube that came out through an opening Dr. Bianco made in the underside of