Puppy Dog Eyes
an excerpt

Andrea stopped when she heard the whimper. She glanced around, didn’t see anything and started running again. The sun was just breaking over the tree tops. Only a half mile to home, she’d made good time this morning. Another whimper, louder and closer this time, broke her train of thought and her stride. This part of the run required concentration. Nolan Creek Rd or Route 3 was no highway. It snaked around the mountain and dropped rapidly to the valley and Lake Nolan. Cars and pedestrians had to watch out for each other. One side of the road was edged by a rock wall, the other a deep ravine, with a shoulder barely the width of a car. She cocked her ears toward the woods and the ravine and ran a little further. There it was again.
Andrea stopped to listen for the source. Somewhere a dog in pain. Another whimper rose from the brush below. She leaned over the guard rail and looked into the ditch. “Anybody there? Here pup-pup.” A yellow Labrador retriever lie malposed about twenty feet into the ravine. How could she get down there? Even if she did, she’d never be able to carry a dog that size up the steep bank by herself. And, it wasn’t her habit to carry first aid supplies in her running clothes.
After a hop over the guard rail, she sat on the ground and eased herself down the bank a few feet. “Hey pup, it’s okay boy, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He answered with a thump of his tail on the ground and tried to pull himself toward her. After a few tries, he dropped his head on his front paws and whimpered again. In all of her years at vet school had she ever heard a more pitiful whimper? No, but there was Dot. Her throat closed tight. How many years since she sat in the middle of the road holding Grampa’s best bird dog as she died? Tears blurred her vision.
Andrea wiped her eyes with her T-shirt sleeve and looked for a root or something to slow her progression down the bank. Nothing. Feet first, she began to scoot down the embankment. Thorns and kudzu vines daunted the descent. Then, a car sped around the curve, beeped its horn and startled her. Startled, she lost her grip on the small vine and started a slide to the bottom of the ravine. Andrea landed in a heap in a terathum bush beside the dog. So much for easing down the hill. The thorns tore into her flesh running needles of pain up and down her bare legs. No amount of kicking untangled her from the stickers and vines. An earthen prison. Confinement.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and tremors started with her hands and spread up her shoulders and back. Despite his pain, the dog rested its chin on Andrea’s right thigh and started licking one of her wounds. Tears streamed down her face as she reached down and rubbed his head. Funny how the simple act of placing his head on her lap calmed her. “We’re in a fix now, old boy. So much for me rescuing you. Will you let me have a look at those wounds?”
Gently easing the collar around his neck she found some tags. The letters were fading, but she could make out the dog’s name. Ripken Davis? No way.
“I know you buddy. How in the world did you get here?”
With a gentle touch she examined him and found wounds all over his body. Some were from the same terathum biting into her flesh, but many of them were deeper. They’d require suturing. He flinched as she lightly ran her fingers across the large gash on his neck. His right rear leg was twisted in an unnatural angle and ripped open. A wave of nausea hit her as she realized the pain Ripken was in. What did this to him? And how was she going to get him out of here? She looked up the bank. They were in the ditch right before Nolan Creek Rd curved steeply up the side of the mountain. If either of them had slid off the edge another hundred yards up the road their fate would have been much different.
“Ripken, old boy, I have to find a way to climb out of here and run home. I’ll call Doc and he’ll meet me here. We’ll get you fixed up, I promise.” The dog looked up at her and wagged his tail. Andrea leaned over and nuzzled his soft fur. How could she leave him? But he’d die without help, just like Dot did. Placing a kiss on his head she sighed. “This is why I’m a vet.- I couldn’t fix Dot that day, Ripken, but- I promise I’ll be back to help you.”
One by one she broke the terathum vines clinging to her legs and pulled them away. Tenacious plant. Her legs burned and bled from many little wounds. With a sigh, she pulled herself to stand and surveyed the incline until she spied a less arduous place to climb up. Progress was slow. Grab a vine, pull on it, crawl a few feet, remove thorns from legs and arms. Repeat process. At the top of the hill, panting from the effort, she dragged herself over the guardrail. What now?
A half mile downhill to home- might as well have been twenty. Brushing debris and blood from her legs and shorts, she took several deep, cleansing breaths and started running toward home. A vehicle approached. Andrea stopped. Desperate times required desperate measures. She faced the oncoming vehicle and stuck her thumb out.