For Ratchett

For Ratchett

by Miguel Rodriguez

12/10/2009

I really expected her to get better. I don’t know why my feelings and expectations betrayed me so completely, other than the help they received from the encouraging words of veterinary staff who were attending her. Despite those words, and the apparent progress that she was making over the last four days, our perfect mini dachshund Ratchett succumbed last night to the severe trauma that had been inflicted on her. I have no intention of going over the details of her attack in this composition. We weren’t there when it happened and know only that it was violent and cruel, two adjectives that had no business anywhere near such a sweet and loving little dog.

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I know that most of the people who read this will never have met Ratchett. She spent most of her life working for a pets show at Sea World called “Pets Rule.” She retired at the age of seven and came to live with Laura and me in San Diego. Laura had known her for a few years at the show, but from the day she joined our family, she was a definite daddy’s girl. We had an instant connection. I still find it hard to believe that she was a show dog because she liked nothing more than to lay curled in my lap. I could hold her for hours and feel the unconditional love she had emanate from her tiny body. If I was out of the house for any reason, she would greet my return with a Ratchett dance by bouncing her front legs up and down, then spinning, then bouncing her front legs some more.

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Laura and I were in Richmond, Virginia when we got the call from Laura’s father. Ratchett had been relentlessly attacked, chased, mutilated. That scene must have been absolutely horrible, and it pains me that Laura’s parents had to bear witness to it. That poor little dog. She was so lovable that she even touched Laura’s parents in the short time they got to know her, which is one reason why they got her the best care. When we got the nightmare phone call in Richmond, Ratchett had already been rushed to an emergency care unit for animals. We bought tickets for the first San Diego-bound flight out of Richmond immediately after hanging up the phone. Laura was inconsolable.

We’ve been at Laura’s parents’ house in Orange County ever since Sunday morning. Ratchett was placed in a 24-hour critical care veterinary hospital in Tustin. It was excellent care, the staff was great, and the progress she seemed to be making was encouraging. Some of her many dozens of wounds were severe enough to require some surgical exploration, but her blood pressure and protein levels were too low to attempt anything like that until Tuesday. She spent most of her time stabilizing and every day seemed to get better. We visited her at least twice every day. Her eyes and attempts to sit up showed how happy she was to have us there.

When Tuesday came, she was ready for surgery. There didn’t seem to be any severe internal injury, other than a fractured jaw. She was stitched up and again seemed to be making progress. Our hopes were high until we got a call last night. Ratchett had collapsed and ceased breathing. There was too much damage to her poor tiny frame. She fought harder than anyone could have expected and deserved so much more.

I am still reeling from the closeness of this tragedy. All of my defense mechanisms are working overtime to keep me from thinking of how little time I had with her and the terrible way my little dog had to go. Laura’s parents have been tremendous during this ordeal and we owe them a lot. It’s been a task consoling Laura, as well, who has taken this very hard. I needed to write this down because it’s therapeutic for me, but I also feel the need to communicate how special Ratchett was to us and to everyone who knew her inside and outside the show she used to work for.

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