The weather [I mean climate] in North Mississippi is pretty temperate, but early springtime can be quite cool, and it was on one of these days that I decided to take a drive in the countryside. I had already begun to collect cats, and by this time Bonnie had come to live with me. Even today in Mississippi we have those old, rickety wooden bridges that cross lonely creeks with names like Tallahatchie and Tuscumbia. On my drive I came upon a small but steep creek and slowed as I crossed the bridge. With my window down I drank in the fresh air and listened to the chatter of birds among the trees. This is the time of year when birds are hatching in their hundreds and whole trees come alive with their noise. Sometimes the chirp of a bird can sound like the yelp of a puppy, don't you think? And for some reason I found myself thinking this as I heard the sharp chirping of a bird coming from a direction that would place the bird under the bridge, not up in the trees.
It was without reluctance that I stopped on the bridge and exited the car. I went to the side of the bridge, which had no railing, and peered the 20 feet or so to the rushing water of the creek below. To my surprise I was looking directly at a fully grown dog lying on a ledge about halfway down. That wasn't the puppy I thought I heard, so where did the crying come from? Of course, I was curious about the dog, but what to do? I am just out for a relaxing drive, I am not exactly jumping for joy at having to deal with this. But, what could I do? The climb down was steep, almost vertical, but there were many crags and crevices to aid in footing, so down I went.
When rescuing a stray animal you always have to take into consideration the health of the animal involved. We still have rabies in this country, and dogs are especially vulnerable. This dog was very lethargic and not at all moving, so what was I going to do here? I got down to near where the dog was and stopped and looked about. I didn't see any other animals. The dog observed me but showed no anxiety as I approached. After several minutes of wondering what to do I made my decision. I knelt beside the dog and placed my hands on the ground immediately adjacent. She didn't move. Then I just went for it. I shoved my arms underneath the dog and lifted her out. It took a while, and the journey out of the ditch was precarious, but eventually I delivered her to the back seat of my car.
After that I returned to the side of the bridge for one last look. It was then that I heard the noise again. Surely there is a puppy down there somehwere, I said to myself. Boy I did not want to have to descend to the bottom of this ditch, but there is no mistaking that sound. So, reluctantly I began my descent. I went all the way to the bottom. On my way down I said to myself that I reminded myself of Steve Irwin. Anyways, on the bottom down near the water I could not hear the noise I had heard earlier. There was trash down there. Someone had thrown away some plywood and other such building materials. I kicked at a piece of plywood, and immediately a yelping started up. There was a puppy, no older than four or five weeks, maybe barely weaned, wedged underneath. I was able to scoop him up, and made the ascent out of the ditch. Another long climb, and I delivered the pup to what I presumed was its mother.
Of course, the expedient thing to do at that time would be jump in my car and head home. Even though it was early spring it was still cold outside, and I was starting to feel it. But, I had to take one more look. Yes, I could still hear a puppy somewhere, so down I went. I found another puppy after walking a ways down the creek. This one was on the other side of the creek -- joy, joy. So I jumped the six to eight feet to the other side, then back up the steep incline and to my car.
In all I would descend to the bottom of the creek six times. Five puppies I would retrieve, and in the end I would find another adult female, which turned out to be the mother. The first dog evidently was familiar with the family, but she was not the mother. The whole crew would be delivered to the local animal shelter.
I had an opportunity to revisit the shelter a few weeks later. While I was there the manager of the shelter related to me that all of the puppies had survived and had been adopted. That was certainly gratifying news. The puppies' mother had also been adopted, also good news.
And what of the first dog that I had rescued? Although she didn't look like much on that day when I carried her in my arms up the steep incline of that ditch, she transformed herself into a bubbly, bouncing, barking, and gorgeous long-haired laborador retriever, and she too had been adopted. She was adopted by a Search and Rescue team from an adjacent state.
Now she is out rescuing humans.
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