Death came once again to Las Golondrinas on Tuesday afternoon, July 6th. The Grim Reaper took little Burnsie but I refused to give him up, fought for his life, and snatched him back to the living again. Let me tell you about my harrowing brush with death.
I was cutting overgrown weeds and elm saplings along the banks of my irrigation ditch that bisects my property. They’ve grown with abandon this spring and summer as I’ve struggled to keep up with inside and outside chores around Las Golondrinas since Charlotte’s death and now the elms and weeds have reached a snarl of ditch-side undergrowth virtually impenetrable. This year has been an unusual year for abundant irrigation water, too, so my ditch was brimming full that Tuesday afternoon. The ancient acequia system that runs through my old farm place is gravity fed with sufficient drop in altitude along its course to have more current than one might think merely watching the flow from above. Then, of course, there are stumps, logs, branches, boulders, and other effluent hang-ups unseen along the bottom of the ditch that can create swirls in the current. La Costancia Lateral ditch, when full, runs a good five feet deep where I was cutting and the Rio Grande water flowing in it is muddy and thick as a runny milkshake so visibility below the surface is zero.
I scooted along the bank on my bottom with my feet over the edge dangling in the water as I cut weeds and saplings by hand with long hedge cutters and larger pruning snips. It was a 95 degree afternoon so Burnsie did what he always does when he’s hot and wants to cool off: he jumped into the ditch for a swim. But my location that day on the bank was not his usual swimming hole, which has a graduated, almost stepped-up bank, where he exits easily. Where I was that day, far from the house, the bank is vertical, densly weeded, and unfamiliar.
Burns swam forth and back along the bank to the bridge, playfully splashing as he always does. He’s a strong swimmer, shattering the stereotype that Scotties can’t swim. I stopped cutting weeds to talk to him while he snorted, snooted, and played in front of me, and I revelled in the joy in his face as he thoroughly enjoyed the water.
He swam along the bank and the weeds past me downstream out of sight and I went back to cutting saplings sitting on my butt on the ditch bank.
I’ll never forget the sounds that startled me alert to danger. A quick, short series of three slaps on the water’s surface, like smacking a pool of water with one’s palm. Then total silence. Nothing.
I was on my feet instantly, calling his name. Nothing. I threw down my tools and jumped into the ditch immediately, calling his name over and over as I grappled below the surface along the bank hoping to snag a drowned Burnsie. I worked my way downstream quickly as I could knowing the current would carry him south from where I last saw him. Nothing. No sign of him. Quickly as I could, feeling with both hands below the surface like a blind man reading Braille, I worked my way back up stream toward where the alarm sounds originated. Miraculously, I snagged his leg under water, a good two feet below the muddy surface, and jerked him out of the water high over my head. He was unconscious and I knew he had drowned. The heave of jerking him up and out of the water caused me to lose my balance on the slick muddy bottom of the ditch and both Burnsie and I went under. Struggling to right myself, but refusing to turn loose of Burnsie or lower my hands high above my head, I managed to stand again mid-stream, then wade to the opposite bank, where I tossed Burnsie like a ball onto the dry ground.
I was in tears by the time I reached the bank and tossed Burnsie to safety. I knew he was dead. I scrambled up the bank and knelt beside him and rolled him onto his back. I grasped his rib cage with my two hands and squeezed. Instantly, he jumped up as if he’d been merely stunned, and proceeded to roll and roll and roll in the sandy dirt. Then he jumped to my face and gave me the grittiest face-wash ever … and I was never so glad in all my life to see him filthy dirty and to receive muddy, gritty kisses. Burnsie was himself, alive, and energetic as ever! We’d beaten back the Grim Reaper who came for him.
I can scarcely get Burns to leave my side now. And I can’t keep from touching him, just to reassure myself he is, indeed, alive and well.
This near-death experience shakes my foundations and tests my resolve. I made a conscious decision about Burnsie and swimming long ago. I weighed the risks of drowning against his joys of a full life that includes his passion for water and Charlotte and I determined that even a short life in the country rich in terrier risk-taking is more authentic to the Scottie soul than a long life that is sheltered and safe and sterile. So, early on, we practiced swimming and watched his progress and self-confidence as he became a strong and eager swimmer.
But holding aloft his limp, lifeless body, grappled out of the deep like a big catfish, makes me pause to re-examine convictions about life and risk-taking. Truth is, I’m not sure I can handle another death in my family just now. I thought of that as I frantically fished for Burnsie’s body and like a wild man drove off the Reaper as he huddled over Burnsie’s corpse on the bank. I shouted exactly that: “NO! You cannot take him now!”
I’m making three changes. One, I’m conscientiously cutting back and controlling the ditch bank weeds and undergrowth so climbing out of the ditch is not a jungle. Two, Burnsie’s new play pool is no longer the irrigation ditch. Now it’s the lower pool at the Asian corner waterfall inside our patio walls where the water is only as deep as Burnsie’s back line at the deepest point, a pool large enough to splash and chase frogs in, but simple and safe exits on all sides. We had a glorious wet snoot day in the little pond Friday.
The third change is Mr. B. will have to wear a life-jacket when we work around the ditch when it’s full. I almost prefer leaving him inside the wall and not allowing him to go outside with me because summers are hot in New Mexico and wearing a vest over a Scottie coat can risk heat exhaustion.
I find myself asking, what if I’d been elsewhere and not right above Burnsie on the ditch bank and so unable to hear his tell-tale splashes? What if I’d delayed going into the ditch myself to rescue him by even a few minutes? What if my grappling hands out of sight below the surface had not found Burnsie’s body? What if he hadn’t revived? What if …? What if ….?
I don’t have clear answers. I still believe in living each day as your last, living it hard and good and fast. I believe that for myself and for my Scotties. I want to do right by myself and by my dogs. I want life that is more than a sum of years, I want it full of experiences that take my breath away.
But I can’t deal with the grief of another death right now. And I can’t be sure my wild man rage will drive away the Grim Reaper next time.
Joseph Harvill, publisher Great Scots Magazine
Oh Joseph, how my heart pounded and my tears ran as I read (and re-read) Burnsies and your ordeal this early morning. Afterwards, clutching my four tightly to me-they being slightly bewildered at the action, I recalled our own close call with our precious Maggie. Visiting our daughter in Florida, Max and Maggie would love chasing each other round the pool inside the screened lanai, stopping every so often to dip a paw in the water. Suddenly, Maggie lost her balance and went directly to the bottom of the pool. Jim, who doesn’t swim a wit, jumped in without a thought, straight to the bottom and fetched a startled, coughing, spitting Maggie, holding her above his head in the eight foot section, so that I could grab her and Will could grab Jim’s outstretched arms. Needless to say, the game was over that day. Life jackets were a must, and a sharp eye with at least two people around were mandatory after that. I cannot imagine pulling her out in a lifeless state. There is no wonder Burnsie will not leave your side. Although he already knew how much you love him, this to him, was the ultimate love, you were there when he so needed you more than ever. It also tends to remind us to be ever vigilant with our babies, as there is never complete safety for them - or us - in even the most joyous moments. God bless, love and hugs to all.
Jan/Feb GSM 2005 “Touched by an angel”, I too salvaged my Bonny Jean from the murky depts of an irrigation canal. The Dog thief had your Burnsey in his clutches GOD gave him back to YOU. My Sunday is full of joy. Isa 42:3 Waveney
Joseph,
When I sat down to read your blog this morning, I nearly had a heart attack when you said Burnsie had died.
Through lots of tears & denial I read on. You & Burnsie are so very, very lucky to be here. Thank goodness you’re taking some precautions. Please take better care of all of you. When I first saw that irrigation dish & you told us that Burnsie swam in it, I was afraid for you. I’ll stick with a baby pool as I’m a chicken. You were just trying to give Burnsie a happy life by giving him his freedom.
Last weekend, on a visit , we were all outside in their yard. Eagan found his way of cooling off. He kept sitting in the water bowl the entire time we were there. It was hilarious!
I read this earlier today. I’m still out of breath and speechless. Thank God is the only thing I can conjure up right now. Hopefully Burnsie didn’t get any water in his lungs that could lead to pneumonia.
Superb work on the part of Mr. Harvill rescuing Burnsie.
Ken McLeod
I can’t image the fear and terror you went thru with your ordeal with Burnsie. Your quick action saved his life but the ordeal surely rattled your life. The idea of a life vest is a good one and his new play pool is also a great idea. Burnsie can play and jump in the pool and cool off, and you will have the piece of mind that he is safe. You and Burnsie now have a second chance to share life together for many years to come. God bless you.
When I read “Death Came For Bernsie” I think my heart stopped. Oh no, not Burnsie!! He’s the same age as my Max. I could not make myself read the rest of the words. Of course I did and I am so thankful to Burnsies Guardian Angel for leadiang you to him. Thankful to the Heavenly Physician for giving you the strength and knowledge to know what to do to revive him. I can imagine your joy!! Your new rules are good ones. Please ~~ no more heart stopping blogs.
God Bless, janice
Joseph,
We were wrecks reading about Burnsie….thank God there was a “happy ending”. I think our hearts can begin beating again. Burnsie, Please wear your life jacket….besides, whoever heard of a scottie liking water??? Be careful and we are so glad you are both safe. Barbara, Roger, & Bella
Joseph, I have to tell you that I am so relieved that Burnsie bounced right back and is ok. My pulse raced as I read this post. Through your words I could feel your pain and horror - like I was there watching. We lost our little Daisy 4 years ago. She drowned in our swimming pool. When I found her body, it was still warm, but there was no hope. She was gone.
God lead you straight to Burnsie, yes He did! Our minds and body react in such a way when we are scared. Your actions were quick and deliberate, thank God for that! Please give the little man a hug from us. Know that you are in our thoughts and prayers.
((hugs))
Becky, Duhgall and Fiona
GOODGOOGLEYMOOGLEY!!!
You sure know how to scare the beejeebers outta me! I was afraid to open yer bloggie! I’m going to go have a large whiskey now to recover.
Pam
Joseph, When I read the title I yelled “No” in protest and could hardly stand to read the rest of the blog……your vivid writing made it all too real. Thank God you rescued Burnsie. Inside the fence forever sounds good to me.
Hi, Joseph,
I was lucky to have been out of town and so got a note from Miki before reading your blog–otherwise you would have scared me sick at heart, too! You sure put the reader right there with you–gulp.
I had never heard that Scotties couldn’t swim, but instead that if they went off the horizontal while in the water–say, from stopping paddling for a second or getting tangled on something and yanked off horizontal–they would sink like a stone because, being so top-heavy, they can’t easily right themselves. I heard this explanation only long after seeing our first Scottie, Hanna, go down like a bowling ball in water before our very eyes. One minute she was paddling away happily between us, the next sinking fast to the bottom. We, too, had to fish her out, because she was unable to swim to surface. And so ever since I’ve only let Scotties wade or swim in very shallow and clear water, and in addition only let them into open water when on a long line.
Scotties can have plenty of fun with a hose–lots of them like to bite and chase hose water. There’s plenty of great “clean” water fun to be had by Scots without risking their lives!
Sooooo relieved to hear that you are taking precautions with your boy now. Figuring out where to draw a boundary between “free” and “controlled” is something we all struggle with, both for our own actions as well as for our Scots. Burnsie can’t make his own informed decision on the swimming issue, but his dad sure can!
Whew!!!
Love,
Laurie
Dear Joseph
OMG, My heart was pounding as i read your story…I know scottie most scottie don’t swim…and my Lancelot once at a friends house was cleaning her pool with a net and he was at the edge as i was…he jumped for it and down he went like a boulder… i jumped in after him…what if i had not been there? looking for Bursie where you can’t see, i just can remember the panic…sooooo glad you found him, we need all our brave hearts….and i need a glass of wine after that story…..WOW!!!
I was holding my breath as I read this.
Sooooooo happy Burnsie is fine.
What a scare.
Give Burnsie scritches from us here in Michigan.
Take care!
Be still my heart! I was stunned when I read your vividly descriptive story. I don’t think I took a breath until you said Burnsie jumped up like his old self. So-oooo happy that this story has a happy ending. Be safe, my friend.
Oh my gosh…an edge-of-the-seat horror story, redeemed only by its happy ending! Even I could not stand to lose Burnsie, and I’ve never met him!
(Regarding your earlier post about loneliness: I have known loneliness, and it is a unique type of pain that is often cavalierly dismissed by those lucky enough to have been spared it. The good news: it is seldom permanent. Please accept a warm virtual-hug from a fellow-traveler one thousand miles away.)
Joseph Thank goodness you were able to leap in and save Burnsie. I know from his litter ,that his brother Billys
adventure into a vent in our home when they were only six weeks old and I was in the kitchen sitting with them how hard it makes your heart pound and the adrenaline kicks in to action.God was watching over you . I am very happy all is well.Take Care Terri Henriksen .
That was terrible crazy.
So happy you snatch him back.
Is your website up and going once again?
Kailan need new collar and leash.
Thank you & God Bless
Dear Joseph,
When I saw the headline, I started crying immediately. For all the days of my life, I will miss my An’GUS. That is a pain unlike any other. When a friend loses a Scottie, I lose their Scottie, too. I guess I just want them to all live forever! 10.25 years average is just not enough. As a person who can’t swim, I am deathly afraid of water, so whever I go, I remind everybody that Scotties cannot swim. Personally, I have known of two Scotties who have drown. Some Scotties can swim, but few and far between. Thank you for posting your experience so that others can be reminded that even a Scottie known to swim, can get into trouble. Please give Burnsie a big hug, and thank YOU for having the strength to move Heaven and Earth to save your baby!!
With love,
Cheri, Rick, Roger, Magic, Elliott and (RB)Forever An’GUS