"That Was The Scariest Moment of My Life",
I honestly proclaim to Alissa just seconds before the New Years countdown begins.
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It was the morning of New Years Eve and it began like most other mornings I've had in Korea with one lively addition, a 3 month old Maltese puppy. Our Canadian friends had just took off on a trip to Singapore and Malaysia. We eagerly agreed to take care of their cuter than cute puppy named 'Kang' for the week.
Kang is the tinniest bunddle of innocence, curiosity, and joy. His owners found it difficult to leave their cute ball of white satin fluff. Understandably so, in the first few days of looking after Kang, we too found ourselves irresistibly attached to him. There is something about the way Kang lovingly and hole-heartily acts that makes him so special. His cute little eyes that pierce through the ball of white, his obsession with cuddles, and the way he won't stop licking your face.
We cleaned the many yellow lakes that greeted us every morning. Ate, played with Kang, drank tea, played with Kang, got dressed, played with Kang, and got ready to leave the house. I assure you, you can never get board of playing with a puppy this small and adorable.
Alissa had gone down to tie her shoe as we were about to sneak out of the house when Kang playfully snatched her wool mitt. He proudly carried it into the living room, rightfully so as the mitten was almost the size of him. He plunked his bitty body down on in the middle of the living room, the wool mitt between his quaint little paws. He stared at us with his puppy dog eyes, head slightly tilted.
I walked over to him and in an instant it happened...
I swiftly swung my hand down to reclaim the mitt, trying to take advantage of the moment his little teeth were not buried in his wool prize.
It all happened so fast, like a flash of light, a millisecond at most.
As I darted to snatch the mitt from his unsuspecting paws, he dug his teeth deep into the thick wool mitt. With the kinetics of a catapult, the brisk, sweeping upward motion of my hand gripping the mitt coupled with Kang's sharp little teeth, now firmly embedded into the coarse wool, and his small body weight, sent him frightfully flying through the air. Flailing through the air, things went into slow motion.
The mitt flung onto the couch, and Kang's little body flipped, twisted, and flailed in mid air. I was shocked by the velocity and height at which he violently flung. Before I had a chance to react, it was over. Kang's body landed like a sack of potatoes right on his head and spine. When all was said and done Kang's tiny body lay lifeless on the ground.
Almost instantly I was filled with regret and fear. If you had witnessed the preceding event you would have no doubt, as I did, that he was dead. A tiny puppy just wasn't cut out for such a violet fall.
In a state of absolute panic I tried to get Kang's unmoving body to respond. I clapped my hands loudly in his face. No response. I yelled in his face in a pathetic blood curdling scream, "KANG PLEASE DON'T DIE!!!" Still as I stared into glossy unmoving eyes I saw only the response of a life less animal.
As I write this blog, I have to step away from the computer as my eyes overflow with tears, the powerful image locked in my mind forever. The memory is still fresh in my mind. It is something that I hope no one has to experience.
I acted as quickly and as rationally as someone could possibly react in a situation like this. After a few attempts at unsuccessfully alerting him, I quickly but ever so carefully scoop his rag doll, puppy body from the floor. His body unmoving and cradled in my arms as I run out of the house as quickly as can be done trying to balance urgency with gentleness.
There is a veterinary clinic about a 5 minutes walk from our house with an English speaking Vet. As I scurry to the vet, I can feel his heart beating powerfully. He's not dead yet there's still a chance!!! I pray to God. Under my breath, I proclaim, "please God don't let him die in my arms". I put my cheek up to his little mouth, to check for a breath.... Nothing. I can see the clinic now. His little eyes twitch just slightly.
As I bust through the doors of the veterinary clinic Kang gently licks my face!
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Alissa and I, still shaken from the events of the day, anonymously decide to spend the night of New Years Eve at our house. As we cuddle close on the couch with a nice glass of Chilean Merlot in our hands and the T.V. tuned into the New Years Eve celebrations, we talk about the fragility of life. We are happy that we have lived another year and that we have lived the past year to its fullest. We comment on the unpredictable nature of our lives. In a millisecond we could irrationally and unexplainablely loose our lives in a freak accident, develop cancer, or be paralyzed for life. We are grateful for what we have, we are grateful for life.
As we countdown the seconds to the New Year, we smile. Kang playfully jumps, tumbles, and plays as carefree as ever just as he did in the morning.
