Striking Range

by Margaret Mizushima

  Tess was busy preparing a makeshift incubator to put the pups in once they were safely delivered and breathing on their own. She’d placed a heating pad set on its lowest setting beneath layers of terry cloth towels in the bottom of a box, and she was draping a clean towel over the top to retain the heat.

  He addressed his kids. “Okay, troops, let’s review.”

  “I get to wear a mask, right?” Sophie hopped in place.

  “Yep, that’s right.” Cole shared her excitement. In his opinion, delivering puppies was one of the most rewarding experiences of his job. “Now, you guys have done this before, but let’s go over the most important parts. Listen up, Sophie. Wait a minute and look at me.”

  Sophie’s attention had drifted as she’d bounced over to the countertop to find the box of surgical masks. She paused midreach, withdrawing her hand and stiffening her shoulders like a soldier as she gave him eye contact.

  Cole gave the kids step-by-step instructions, ending with, “Sophie, once I get scrubbed up, I’m clean and you’re dirty, right? You can’t touch me from that point on. You got that?”

  Sophie nodded, her eyes sparkling.

  “Good. We’ve all got to move fast. Since Sassy is getting anesthesia, we won’t have time to waste. Any questions?”

  “No, sir!” Sophie said.

  “Are there seven pups, Dad?” Angie asked.

  “That’s what it looks like, but we could be surprised. Ultrasound views aren’t always clear enough for an accurate count. Okay girls, go ahead and put on your gear.”

  Tess tied the straps on Sophie’s surgical gown while Angie managed her own. Meanwhile, Cole shaved a patch over the vein in Sassy’s foreleg for insertion of the IV, and then Tess held the leg to occlude the vein, providing a thick, wormlike target for Cole to tap. After withdrawing the needle and leaving the flexible catheter tubing in place, he fixed the IV line to Sassy’s leg with surgical tape.

  He glanced at his daughters. “You guys ready?”

  “Ready!” Sophie said, while Angie murmured a quiet, “Yes.”

  “All right, let’s get started.”

  Tess and Cole moved Sassy to the surgical table, and Tess held her in place while stroking her on her side. Sassy appeared as relaxed as she could possibly be under the circumstances.

  He drew up a small dosage of propofol, a fast-acting sedative that he used to facilitate intubation. Since the sedation effects of the drug were transient, it shouldn’t hurt the puppies, but he would need to act fast to get Sassy onto the anesthesia machine.

  He glanced at Tess, and she nodded. Cole injected the drug into the buffalo cap on the IV. Sassy went down within seconds.

  The clock started ticking. Cole checked the time—7:20.

  He rolled the limp dog onto her chest, and Tess gripped her head on both sides below her ears to straighten her neck. Pulling her tongue forward, he depressed it with the leading end of the endotracheal tube and guided it into her airway. Moving quickly, he inflated the cuff, connected the tube to his anesthesia machine, and started the isoflurane gas and oxygen.

  Cole waited a minute while the gas and oxygen mixture did its work. As oxygen saturation occurred, there was always a moment when respirations slowed, usually stopping completely until the machine took over. He observed Sassy until the transition had taken place, then tapped her eyelid to check for a blink reflex. Lack of it told him she was deep enough, so he adjusted the dials on the gas and the oxygen to hold the sedation at that rate.

  “Let’s move her into position.”

  Tess and Angie helped him roll Sassy onto her back and fasten the soft restraints that would stabilize her. The clippers whirred while Tess began shaving the dog’s belly, being careful not to nick the swollen mammary tissue. When done with that, she would wash Sassy’s stomach with a Betadine scrub chased with alcohol.

  Isoflurane would pass through the placenta to the puppies, so the race was on. Cole moved to the sink to scrub and put on his sterile gear. Angie closed the ties at his back, and he moved to the surgical tray to open the inside wrap on the sterile pack, first lifting the sterile drape to cover Sassy’s belly and then opening the wrap to reveal the gleaming surgical instruments inside.

  Tess turned on the overhead lamp and adjusted its beam. Cole selected a scalpel and made the skin incision two inches below Sassy’s umbilicus, where he continued to carefully incise to find the fibrous line of the linea alba, a sheath of fascia that joined the muscle layers in the midline of the abdomen. Cutting through this layer resulted in little blood flow and gave him access to the abdominal cavity.

  The turgid uterus lay exposed, a strong muscular organ filled with puppies. While keeping the uterine connections intact, Cole lifted the uterus through the skin incision and laid it on the sterile drape. He pulled sterile cotton gauze from one of his packs and tucked it under the organ to absorb its fluid contents when he opened it. If he encountered a dead puppy, this would prevent bacteria from invading Sassy’s abdominal cavity.

  “Okay, girls,” he said. “Get ready to rock and roll.”

  A muffled “Eep!” came from behind Sophie’s mask, while Angie looked on with her steady blue gaze. A little over a year ago, his daughters had never even come to the clinic to watch him work. Now they behaved like seasoned professionals. Well, Angie at least; Sophie needed a few more years to mature.

  Cole made the final incision into the uterus near the base of one of the uterine horns, close to a lump that would be a pup. Fluid gushed, and he quickly replaced the gauze beneath the uterus. He worked the puppy through the incision, feeling elated when he delivered the tiny form into the world.

  He cradled the pup in the palm of his hand and gently removed the amniotic sac. Each puppy came equipped with one—individual bubbles of protection. Not for the first time, he marveled at Mother Nature’s way as he placed the newborn in the warm towel that Tess held open in her palms, ready to receive.

  Going for the next puppy, he turned his attention back to Sassy while still keeping an eye and ear on Tess’s progress. She used a nasal bulb to suction amniotic fluid from the newborn’s mouth and nostrils until it uttered faint sneezes and snuffling sounds. She used the terry cloth towel to stroke and rub the wet puppy, simulating a mama dog’s licking and nuzzles that would encourage the baby to breathe on its own.

  “It’s a boy,” Tess announced as she started to hand the pup, towel and all, to Angie.

  “Let Sophie take the first one,” Angie said, moving over to allow her little sister to get closer to Tess.

  Sophie skipped into place, a wondrous expression in her eyes as she took the puppy into her hands. Cole trusted his nine-year-old to handle the puppy the way she’d been taught. Once Sophie had scrubbed the puppy gently to ensure that it was breathing on its own, she placed it in the warm holding box Tess had prepared earlier.

  By this time, Cole had found another puppy and worked it toward the incision by massaging the outside of the uterus. He moved it through the opening, removing the amniotic sac before handing it to Tess.

  Tess suctioned the baby. “This one’s a girl,” she said as she passed it on to Angie while Cole found the next pup.

  In this relay fashion, they worked together as a team until Cole had delivered seven puppies. The sniffling, squeaking vocalizations that came from beneath the covering on the box made Cole happy. These were big, strong pups, and he had high hopes that they all would survive.

  Sophie, Angie, and Tess stood over the box, peeking under the towel, murmuring their delight.

  “Four boys and three girls,” Tess was saying.

  “That big one that’s mostly black looks just like Robo,” Sophie said, while the others agreed.

  As he palpated the uterus to make sure he’d found all the pups, Cole enjoyed watching how thrilled his daughters were with the process. “Are they all black and tan?” he asked.

  Angie was bending over the box. “I think so, although some of them have more black than others.”

&nb
sp; Cole encountered a small lump at the far end of the left uterine horn. As he milked it down the horn toward the incision, he realized it was another puppy.

  “We’ve got another one, kids,” he said, making Sophie squeal as she and Angie moved closer to watch.

  Cole removed the limp pup—so small compared to the others—and sheltered it in the palm of his hand while he stripped off the amniotic sac. The little form was slick with amniotic fluid, but he could see no signs of decomposition or decay, so he dared hope the baby was still alive and viable.

  He handed it to Tess while he turned back to Sassy. It felt like he had all the pups this time, but he found it worrisome that there were still no sounds of life coming from the last newborn.

  “Try draining it with gravity,” he told Tess when the suction still hadn’t brought any results.

  She cradled the puppy head down between her hands and swung it gently downward and back up like a pendulum. Then she tried again with the suction.

  “Angie, turn the knob on that oxygen canister there in the corner and bring it close so that Tess can place the mask over the pup.”

  Angie scurried to follow his instructions while Sophie stood by, her face tense. This is the downside to having the kids help here at the clinic, Cole thought, fearful that the pup wasn’t going to make it.

  A delicate sneeze came from the puppy, and Tess moved it under the oxygen mask, tipping its head down while she continued to rub its fur and massage its rib cage with gentle downward strokes, trying to milk fluid from its lungs.

  Though he wanted to take over, Cole restrained himself. Sometimes he had to break his sterile field to help with resuscitation, but this wouldn’t be one of those times. Sassy’s health and her ability to bear future litters were of utmost importance, and he knew that Tess was doing everything possible to save the pup. He needed to let her do her job.

  He eyed the pack of absorbable suture that Tess typically opened for him. “Angie,” he said, and she turned her attention from the pup to him. “Could you peel open that packet of suture without touching the inside? Peel it back like a banana and then hold it close so I can take it from the packet.”

  Angie looked stressed as she scanned the boxes on the counter, trying to locate the right one.

  “Don’t worry, we’re not in a big rush now that the pups are out. We can take our time.” Cole hoped to reassure her as he told her which box to open. He glanced at the clock. Only twelve minutes had passed, not too long, although the last puppy had probably been affected more by the anesthesia than the others.

  Angie peeled open the packet. He selected a needle holder from his pack of sterile instruments and grasped the needle at the top of the packet. As he pulled it free, the prethreaded suture unraveled and came with it.

  “Thanks, Angie,” Cole murmured. The puppy was making mewling noises that were barely audible. “How’s it coming, Tess?”

  “We’ve got breathing established—sort of.”

  He could tell that she was still not sure the pup would make it. “Keep doing what you can. Angie and I can finish up here with Sassy.” His eyes briefly connected with his daughter’s above their surgical masks.

  Focusing on his work, he closed the uterine incision before repositioning the organ back within Sassy’s abdominal cavity. Then he worked quickly and carefully to close each layer, first the linea alba and then a layer of subcutaneous tissue. Even though this was the first time Angie had assisted him in surgery, she followed his instructions perfectly.

  “You’re doing a great job, kiddo.” And then, fearful that being this close to the insides of an animal might make her queasy, he added, “You holding up? If you need to step back, that’s okay.”

  “I’m fine,” Angie said.

  He could tell by her facial color above her mask that she was being truthful. He’d been on the receiving end of fainting customers enough to know the signs. Once he’d had to revive a six-foot-four cowboy who’d tilted over like a felled tree at the sight of a syringe and needle.

  By this time, the sniffling sounds coming from the puppy had increased in volume, and a quick glance told him that Tess had placed it below the oxygen mask while still rubbing it with a warm towel. Though weak, the little one was beginning to squirm. That was a good sign, but Cole knew they weren’t home free yet. These smaller pups that some folks called “runts” might not have received enough nourishment in utero, and it could be touch and go to get them to thrive.

  Sophie was still standing beside Tess watching, her tension obvious by the way she held her small shoulders.

  “Take a breath, Sophie. Looks like that puppy is making progress. You need to relax a little if you can.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice tight, and Cole saw her shoulders rise as she tried to follow through.

  “It’s okay, Sophie,” Tess murmured. “This one is going to make it.”

  “I need that last cartridge of suture now,” Cole said to Angie, gesturing toward it with his head. Time to close the skin, which he would do with an intradermal suture pattern, burying the absorbable suture beneath the top cutaneous layer so that none of the stitches would be visible. Since the pups would be rooting around Sassy’s belly with their sharp baby toenails, this would be the best way to protect against infection as well as prevent rupture of the incision.

  Once he’d finished closing the skin, he went ahead and broke his sterile field by grasping the knob on the anesthesia machine and turning off the isoflurane gas. He adjusted the oxygen flow to support Sassy while she came out from under the anesthesia. “Great job, Angel. Thanks for helping.”

  “I’m glad it worked out okay.” She glanced over at the tiny puppy. “Or I hope it did.”

  While waiting for Sassy to start breathing on her own, Cole injected her with a dose of antibiotic and an analgesic to make her feel better when she awakened. Though dogs were well known for their stoic nature, he wanted Sassy to be able to begin mothering these pups without delay, and he didn’t want pain to be a barrier to her nursing the babies.

  He went to peer over Tess’s shoulder. The tiny puppy, about half the size of the largest pup, lay beneath the makeshift oxygen tent, the mask tilted so that Tess could stroke the baby’s fur and massage it with the warm terry cloth towel. The once-limp little body was beginning to gain tone and weak movement.

  “Great job, Tess,” he murmured as he reached to touch the puppy. Tess moved the towel back so he could see, giving him his first peek at the semidry pup.

  He was surprised by what he saw. “Is that one a sable?”

  “That’s what it looks like.” Tess gave him a quick smile before turning back to massage the puppy’s fur with the towel.

  Sophie tipped her face up to him. “What’s a sable?”

  “It’s a German shepherd color pattern, different from the black and tan that Robo and Sassy have and not as common. It’s a mixture of gray and brown or tan throughout the coat with a black tip on the end of each hair. Must be a throwback to an earlier dog in the bloodline.”

  “Wow,” Sophie murmured, apparently still full of wonder from the entire experience. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl,” Tess said. “A little girl.”

  And let’s hope she survives, Cole thought as he tapped Sassy’s eyelid, noting that her blink reflex had returned. It wouldn’t take long now for her to wake up. “Once Sassy wakes up, we need to make a bed for her in the kennel room. I’m going to keep her here until that last puppy is able to nurse on her own.”

  Now that everything had calmed down, he thought of Mattie. He loved her, and she would love these pups. He couldn’t wait to show them to her, including this little sable fighter that reminded him of Mattie herself—someone who’d overcome the odds and fought to establish a good life.

  FIVE

  Mattie felt discouraged beyond words as she stood outside the prison gates with Hauck. Except for her mother, Cobb had been the only known witness to her father’s death, and now they’d lost e
verything he knew.

  A sharp breeze sliced through her uniform shirt, making her shiver. A glance at her unit told her that Robo had awakened and was watching her from the side window. No panting; he’s fine.

  “Let’s sit in the car for a minute and decide where this investigation is going next,” Hauck said, turning toward his black sedan as he clicked the key fob.

  Mattie had been uncertain how motivated Hauck would be to pursue the case any further, and his willingness to move forward with the investigation reassured her. She followed him to his car, welcoming the break from the wind as she entered the passenger’s side.

  “Damn.” Hauck settled into the driver’s seat. “How do you Coloradans stand this cold? You don’t even have on a coat.”

  “I didn’t want to deal with it while we were inside, but I think the temperature dropped during the last hour. We have a storm coming in.”

  Hauck twisted in his seat to face her, his face serious. “Well, that was the shits. I can’t believe that happened.”

  Mattie decided to express the belief that had taken shape in her mind. “The timing was impeccable. It had to be related to our interview today.”

  Hauck broke eye contact while he considered her words. “Maybe.”

  “Harold Cobb, John’s brother, was killed in this very prison after he was incarcerated here decades ago. There’s someone on the outside who’s been able to get to them.”

  Hauck frowned and gazed out the window.

  Mattie remembered how her own teammate, Stella LoSasso, always lectured others about jumping to conclusions. She drew a breath and slowed down. “Okay, so I have no proof of that, and it’s just a theory. But it’s a theory we should consider.”

  “I’ll give you that. Let’s talk about what we know for sure.”

  He turned to look at her, but she waited, wanting to know what he was thinking.

  “Harold Cobb was killed with a shiv by an inmate who later said he had a beef with him. Staff who investigated that death thought there was more to it, but they never could prove it.”