I ended up with a puppy one day in the winter. Fiery red with white legs and paws and a curly tail that tipped white on the end. We became the very best of friends. I had never had a dog as an adult and every dog I did have while growing up-I had to drop off on the side of the road seemingly every time it grew to be bigger or become hurt etc. So my dog and I became so close. I never thought I could love an animal so much.

EXCEPT he loved to chase any wild animal completely off of the property. (I had a GPS collar on him and he would literally chase them off the property, only).

Which, was fine. Right? the daily couple of squirrels and occasional fox or coyote didn’t seem to hurt anyone, so.. that’s what it was. But, I live in Alaska. And one day, a fear I had put in the back of my mind, unraveled in my front yard.

My dog “Hitler” was barking up a 900 LB BEAR. Being 150 pounds himself, this bears cub was bigger than my Hitler.

There was nothing I could do. I called for Hitler, opening the door. Yelling at this monster. Threw pans at the bear. Then I realized, I was making it even more agitated. Also, making Hitler more protective as I was in eyesight. Horrified, I left the door open just in case Hitler may decide to come in. I went upstairs and to the window facing the front yard and called for Hitler, thinking he would come in. About the time I did that, the bear suddenly turned from seeming irritated but not angry-into “I’m walking away with my cub-some-hit you with bear paw. I turned away and heard Hitler Yelp.. horrified, sick to my stomach, inside the house, I listened intently at his yelling.. barking, Bear breathing, Barking, bear breaths.. until I thought he was dead. It was silent.

I peered over the window-No Bear in sight. I run outside to my dog. He attempts to raise his head in the direction I am only assuming the bear left in and tried to wag his tail-which, was hanging off. His jaw-hanging off and clattering as he moved. His front legs both broken with bones sticking out. His guts were all over the place as if one end of his entrails got snagged on a stick or something as he sporadically ran around my yard and whatever it was caught on; was pulling the stretchy “watery ballooney like” rope out of his stomach as it unraveled all over the place.

I don’t know why but I tried to wind up his intestines to stuff back into the gaping and seemingly “would be” ‘flapping in the wind’ loose skin; had it not been soaked in blood. But, even most of his intestines were even ripped or (ruptured[?].)
I ran inside to grab some tape I thought I had bought the previous day. As I pulled out all the kitchen drawers, I remembered putting the tape back while the clerk checked out my items.
I knew I was pressed for time and I didn’t want Hitler to suffer alone in his last moments. So, I grabbed the Saran Wrap, instead.
I was obviously already stressed out and frusterated AF provided the situation that I was facing in my front yard. But to make things worse, my ex bf had used most of my Saran Wrap to take his “mother” one of the steaks that we had BBQ’d the prior weekend.

I did what I could. I wrapped Hitlers intestines the best I could, but springtime in Alaska the sun is beating and the breeze softly and seemingly constantly blows. Therefore, the intestines were drying up and sticky(ish). Sticking to my fingers but not really providing any type of sturdy or sticky surface for the Saran Wrap to actually effectively do what; in my mind, I had imagined that it would be like, upon me grabbing it from the kitchen.
Looking at Hitlers eyes, I could tell he was fading and it had been nearly an ninety minutes since the attack.
I called the vet, her husband told me to bring my dog in(the actual vet is deaf and doesn’t really ever answer the phone except on occasion) but to their house-as that is where the vet here worked out of. I gathered what chunks and pieces of Hitlers insides that looked big enough they may be able to possibly be re attached, got a board, put him alongside the chunks on the top of it and loaded it onto the hood of my car (I know this sounds cruel but I drive an older smaller car and there was literally no way I was going to fit him into any of the seats and I know from Watching “Trauma: Life in the ER” shows that I really needed to keep his spine stabilized-the vet is only four miles down the road, one of which is my gravel driveway). I drive rather slowly as to not make him uncomfortable and carefully go around the potholes. With my left hand outside of my drivers side window to hold the corner of the board he was on from swiveling as to avoid it spinning or sliding off of the side of the hood.
When we finally arrived, I was now steady laying on the horn and threw my car into park before hitting the brakes. The commotion caused Hitler to become curious and look around to see what was going on. He had to be going into shock. I thought. Looking at myself in the rear view I’m sure I looked like a maniac. Blood on my arms and hands, forehead and chin. I could taste his blood in my mouth, even.

The guy rushed outside to assist me and got one end of the board and I, the other. We got to the door and of course it wasn’t going to fit through that fucking door.
we both pause and look to each other for a second, trying to read the others’ face as on what to do. Instinctively I tilted one side of my board and he followed my lead, tilting the same side on his end, up. But we could only get so far before it was obvious any further and Hitler would slide off. “Can he walk”? He asked me.. “I don’t know, I haven’t tried” I said. “We can see”. So that’s what we did. With the board leaning up against the front of the house, My pockets were stuffed full so every time I moved or tried to position Hitler onto his feet, it was obnoxiously loud. I could tell he was irritated at the plastic noise but hey, if it was helping to keep him alert-so be it, right?! I could see the vet through the window as she put gloves on and came outside and holding a blanket. Which was perfect because Hitler refused to walk even a couple of steps. We put him inside like it was a hammock and lay him on the floor right there in the living room inside the doorway, not before all of us falling to the ground though as the vets husband caught a corner of the blanket and we all fell as a result. my poor pup, . “Wha Happa”? The Vet asked me. “A bear”, as I looked at his face I had wrapped the best I could with the clear wrap I suddenly remembered all of the intestine pieces wrapped up and inside of my pockets. I pulled them all out and the vet looked at me and stare at the plastic pile of mess on her floor. she got up and went into the other room. her husband followed and asked me to come also. I did. As soon as I arrived into the room I heard the front door open and Hitler let out a yelp. the vets kids were home from school and swung the door open on my dog. I ran to be with him but stopped in my tracks as I realized what he had done. he sorted through the plastic pile and was trying to swallow the pieces of himself but his jaw would not allow it. this is when the vet told me I had become unconscious and fell to the floor. it was all too much. the dog I grew to love and adore so much was all torn up, and eating the torner upped pieces of himself. I came back to, to see the ceiling of my room. I was stiff, sore.. there was a slight wheezing as I exhaled and that’s when I felt it. my neck was super stiff so I couldn’t really look down to see the fur monster I was petting, who was; laying by my side. but my hand knew it as none other than my good boy. My heart sank and rose up again because I had realized it was all but a dream. and.. I wasn’t sore.

© Granado.A