Climbing that Hill

I walk out into a chilly Spring dawn towards our little home orchard on top of a mesa in northern New Mexico. Lilly, the yearling Merino sheep, greets me with a questioning look as if asking why I haven’t fed her a morning flake of delicious high-quality alfalfa hay. When I walk back to the covered bale of hay I start to laugh because I discover that she has already helped herself to a corner of the bale. While Lily is my friend, I also have the tough job of being her veterinarian. Lilly is currently on an extended stay at our home because she needed a second surgery on her Achilles tendon that was cut during shearing at a high desert sheep ranch about a month ago. I know that in a few minutes it will be a battle of the wills to catch Lily to change her back leg bandage. Healing has been slow and marked with set-backs, but that doesn’t keep Lily from using her athletic skills in outwitting us in the chase to catch her. This is about the time the thought crosses my mind that I will certainly be climbing my daily hill. I am not really sure when I decided I needed to climb a hill each day either physically or in my mind. I think it started when I was first in semi-retirement which prematurely started for me after major back surgery. I guess I realized that I just couldn’t work full-time anymore in such a physically demanding job as rehabilitating animals after orthopedic and neurologic surgery or those who had strokes or extensive arthritis. For some reason, though, I still wanted to challenge myself each day. I had just purchased a stroller so my 2-legged dog, Cubby, and my old Chihuahua, Peeka, could come on walks with me and the other 2 dogs. Each day near sunrise, I found myself pushing that stroller up a sandy hill while I huffed and puffed. I think that is all part of the mindset of most veterinarians. While we tend to be very compassionate people, we also have to set goals and feel a driving need to complete them. I put together a bag with bandaging material including a sanitary pad to cover her wound, extra soft cast padding, flexible wrap and Duct tape. I make sure to draw up her antibiotic injection and anti-inflammatory injection to help with the pain and provide protection from infection in the wound area. Last week, I changed the bandage every two days using sugar in hemorrhoid cream to help keep out bacteria and aid in contraction of the wound. I pray that Lilly will stay still once I grab the leash attached to her fancy collar. I will have just enough time to finish this project before my first appointment if Lilly doesn’t make me chase her around our ½ acre yard. Lilly is sitting over by the Mexican honeysuckle in the shade by the fence. Today I decide to use her curiosity of dogs in my favor to more easily catch her. Peeka may be my smallest and oldest dog, but she is the least afraid of Lilly. Lilly sees us coming, but actually decides to walk toward me since I have Peeka in my arm. I place Peeka and my supplies about five feet away from Lilly. She lowers her head and takes one step towards us taking in all the smells of an aged ten pound Chihuahua. I just need Lilly to take four more big steps towards us so that I can grab the leash. As Peeka inches towards Lilly, she begins to take those precious steps towards us. I try to stay in a direct line with Lilly as I know her direct vision is not as good as her peripheral vision. As I make a low reach to grab the leash, Lilly turns and bolts the other direction heading off into the back forty. I am amazed that a 130 pound yearling sheep can run so fast with her right hind leg in a bandage and brace. I dusted my hands off and wiped the sweat off my brow as Peeka looked at me and decided she had enough of this kind of rodeo. I walked down to the back forty with my supply bag in hand and watched as Lilly stared at me as she chewed her cud. I thought I saw her dare me in that moment as she went to follow the cat up to the guest casita on our property. I took out after her as fast as my legs could run and I saw her dart through the hula hoop weaves as she rounded the corner. Once again, Lilly’s curiosity was piqued by my cat named Fluffy who looks to be 16 pounds, but who is actually eight pounds cat and eight pounds of hair. Fluffy has beautiful green eyes that she used to stare down Lilly. Fluffy carefully turned around knowing that Lilly would soon follow. Lilly looked both ways before she entered that doorway with an insane amount of confidence. As I was watching the incredible scene unfold in front of my eyes, I realized that my hands had started itching again. I am allergic to lanolin, which is the oil in sheep’s wool, and I once again forgot to wear my exam gloves. While Lilly was smelling the exercise equipment in the physical rehabilitation casita, I inched my way closer to the door. Fluffy willingly flicked her tail up at Lilly to follow her as if she already knew my plan. Lilly started to turn as entered the dimly lit threshold, but hesitated for a split second. I seized the luck of the moment and closed the door. Lilly soon jumped up on the futon and struck her front foot down just like she owned the placed and turned to face me. I caught my breath and let it go slowly and easily. The three foot distance was almost palpable and I think Lilly realized that she had been caught. I grabbed the leash and gently pulled her down off the couch. As I started removing the brace and cutting off the small bandage, Lilly turned to look at me like an old friend or maybe an equal. When I began to place the new bandage, she balked and leapt which made the whole thing fall off in a bundle on the floor. I started to cry just wishing that Lilly could give me one ounce of cooperation. She must have known that I was upset and did not move as I wrapped my arms around her leg and calf tossed her into a lateral position on the carpet. Lilly no longer put up a fight and let me gently bandage the leg that had given her so many issues for the last six weeks. I still think to this day, how beautiful and supportive that bandage was with all the pink and purple Easter themed Duct tape that peeked out above and below the ankle brace. In that moment, I felt that I had won the fight in the battle to save the leg and Lilly’s life on the Perez ranch back in Encino. Lilly would be an tough adversary to any coyote that tried to get near her or any of the other sheep. In these instances, I am not the climber, but the helper pushing them up that hill to the top.