Snakebite Redux

Snakebite Redux

I don't believe it. The little booger got snakebit again this morning, right on the schnozz. We're guessing a cottonmouth this time, from the fact that the bites didn't bleed to speak of (not an infallible guide, but something the vet associates with moccasins), and the general muddiness of the pup. The full inch between fangmarks suggests a large cottonmouth. A painful bite, but not one that usually leads to complications.

I knew something was wrong when his buds came back without him from their morning swamp run. In case he'd found a way outside the fence, I drove around the neighborhood looking for him, but when I came back he was sort of collapsed by the back stairs, poor thing, feebly wagging his tail. Back to the vet for steroids, painkillers, and antibiotics against the filthy bite. He should be OK after lying around feeling like absolute dirt for a day or two. I'd say I'm going to pamper him if that weren't bringing coals to Newcastle.

When my dogs don't come home, I really freak out. With all the rain this summer, it's barely possible to tromp through the unusually thick brush looking for a dog who may not be able to come to me or even bark. The unusually thick, very snaky brush.

The vet told me about helping his father clean out the chicken house after Hurricane Carla when he was a boy. He used up boxes of ammunition and filled three bushels with snakes. He said this to cheer me up about how the snake population has, if anything, declined.