Doug Johnstone - Hit and run

She stomped out as hard as she could in bare feet and slammed the door. Jeanie jumped at the noise, her head darting round and back, ears flat on her head.

‘It’s OK, girl,’ Billy said. ‘Everything’s fine.’

*

He was woken by a noise. He sat up. It was humid in the pre-dawn light. Whining and whimpering, the scratching of wood from inside the room.

He shook his head free of sleep and looked round. Jeanie was pacing in a tight circle by the bed, making a keening noise, a horrible plaintive cry.

‘What’s the matter, girl?’

She didn’t seem to hear, just kept walking round and round. She was in a daze, head down, following an untraceable scent.

‘Do you want out, is that it?’

He didn’t know anything about dogs. What was she doing?

He got up and opened the bedroom door. Jeanie didn’t respond, just kept walking. She bumped into the chair and headed in another direction, zombie movements, slow, deliberate. She was still making the same noise, an unsettling, primal cry of discomfort.

‘What is it, girl?’

He walked over and stroked her but she didn’t acknowledge him. Her tail was pointing rigidly downwards. She bumped into the bedside table and turned. Her front legs wobbled a little. That crying sound, like nothing Billy had ever heard.

‘What’s happening?’ Zoe said, sitting up.

‘It’s Jeanie, something’s wrong. She doesn’t seem right.’

The dog made a noise as if the air had just been hammered out of her lungs, then her legs collapsed and she crumpled on to the floor next to her basket. A tremor shot through her limbs and she began convulsing, her chest heaving in and out, all four legs jerking in jolting spasms. It was like a huge electric current was passing through her body. There was a sharp whip-crack noise, and Billy saw her jaw snapping in time with the convulsions through the rest of her body. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth and her teeth were digging at it. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, only the whites showing.

Billy scrambled towards her and grabbed hold of her snout. He tried to pull her teeth apart, get his hand in between to stop her biting her tongue off. There was a froth of saliva along the edge of her mouth as he prised her jaws away from each other, enough to get his hand inside. Blood oozed from a wound on her tongue. Her teeth dug into Billy’s hand, one set on the back, the other sinking into his palm. He held his breath at the pain. With his other hand he tried to calm her, stroked her side and head. He was talking to her, reassuring her, not sure even what he was saying, just trying to keep his voice low and calm, despite everything.

And then it was over. Jeanie’s jaws relaxed and her body slackened. Her eyes cleared. She jumped up looking confused and backed away from Billy.

‘It’s OK, girl.’ He extended his bleeding hand towards her.

She didn’t recognise him.

‘What’s happening?’

Zoe shook her head. ‘I don’t know. A seizure of some kind?’

‘Did your dogs ever do this?’

‘No.’

Jeanie was back to padding around, bumping into things, her head and tail lowered, sniffing at nothing.

‘Jeanie,’ he said.

Nothing. He turned to Zoe. ‘She’s not responding. She can’t see me or something.’

Jeanie gradually got more agitated, then began making the same noise as before, a painful and confused whimpering. As she walked, the noise got louder and more frantic. She didn’t know where she was, kept bumping into things.

Zoe dug out her phone. ‘I’ll call my dad, he’ll know an emergency vet.’

She left the room, finger in her ear, Jeanie’s high wail getting stronger and louder.

As the door closed Jeanie slumped to the floor again, flopping on to her side and convulsing with her whole body. Her legs were jerking like she was sprinting along a beach after a ball. Her jaws were clacking together again and Billy grabbed a book from a bookshelf and darted over, prising her teeth apart and pushing the book in between. He pulled her body to his own and tried to hold her, comfort her. He felt the vibrations, the terrible force of it passing through his own body too, setting his nerves alight as he whispered in her ear and stroked her head, her back, down her sides. Her legs were flailing against him, thuds as her paws connected with his thighs.

And then it ended again. It was over, as if it had been switched off. Her body went limp in his arms and the book fell from her mouth as her jaw muscles loosened. She was still breathing frantically, a mix of slaver and blood dribbling from her mouth.

Zoe came back in. ‘Vet will be here as soon as possible.’

‘When will that be?’

‘Quarter of an hour.’

‘Jesus. She had another fit while you were phoning.’

Zoe knelt down and stroked Jeanie’s ears. ‘Poor girl.’

Jeanie jumped up again, wary of her surroundings, staggering on weak legs around the perimeter of the room.

‘Did they say what we should do?’

‘Just try to keep her comfortable and safe till they get here.’

‘God almighty.’

Jeanie had two more fits before the vet arrived, a small one followed by the biggest yet, several minutes of convulsions and thrashing, Billy trying to prevent her swallowing or biting her tongue, making sure she wasn’t near any heavy objects when quaking. He felt helpless and panic-stricken.

The vet was a thickset woman in her forties with short fair hair, and she carried a large medical case. Billy described Jeanie’s fits as well as he could. Jeanie was staggering around the room, weary and desperate, totally confused. She looked right through them as if in a trance. The vet coaxed her to sit then lie down, examined her eyes and mouth then opened her case and took out a large syringe and a vial of liquid.

‘You’ll need to hold her tightly,’ she said to Billy.

Billy stroked Jeanie’s neck. ‘What’s that?’

‘Phenobarbital, it’s an anticonvulsant. It’ll control the seizures. I need to give her a high dosage to begin with, to break the chain reaction of fits.’

She expertly sucked the clear liquid up into the needle, then pushed until there was no air left inside. She put the needle down and showed Billy how to hold the dog, with her body pressed into Billy’s, one hand across the head, the other holding the leg she was going to inject.

‘Now hold on tight, because she’ll flinch.’

Billy could feel the thin bone and sinew of Jeanie’s foreleg in his grip. He could feel her heartbeat thudding against his body. Her eyes were glassy.

The vet approached with the needle and pressed it against the skin. Jeanie’s leg kicked free of Billy’s grasp and the needle flew from the vet’s hand, past Billy’s face, and landed at Zoe’s feet.

The vet reached for the syringe. ‘I told you to hold on tight.’ She checked the tip of the needle again. ‘Now, have you got her?’

Billy nodded. He was scared of breaking her leg if she kicked too hard.

The vet pressed the needle against Jeanie’s leg. Billy felt the thrashing reaction from the dog, but held firm as the fluid got squeezed in, the vet whipping the needle out and quickly strapping a cotton pad against the leg.

Jeanie jumped up as Billy relaxed his grip. She backed away from the three of them, looked around her. Her tail was still pointing at the floor, but her head was raised a little, and she was actually looking at them, making eye contact. She wasn’t walking, just standing still. Billy felt sick. He wanted to explain to her. He couldn’t bear the idea that she thought he was responsible for all this.

The vet was already packing her bag up.

‘She should fall asleep in the next ten minutes, it was a substantial dose. She might be out for up to twelve hours. Keep an eye on her, check she’s still breathing and her heart rate is fine. If there are any more fits or seizures, give me a call immediately.’