We left New Westminster on a sunny fall day. I was only a few days back from China. My job there was over and I definitely needed a break. My sister and I decided to drive until we hit the Gulf of Mexico. It was the kind of trip where the trip mattered and the destination not so much. Drive as much as we felt like, stop when we felt like it, shop when we felt like it and basically just mosey along as the spirit moved us.

We packed up the purple PT cruiser and the two dogs and headed out. We had camping gear but we found it a hassle so we stayed in Yurts in State Parks or motels that allowed us to have the dogs with us.

The dogs were seasoned travelers already. Harper, the 9 year old lab was used to traveling and in the way of dogs, was happiest when his head was out the window. Missy was a little rescue dog that we had only had for a year or so. Hers was a sorry tale, she was rescued from a shelter in Los Angles who had taken her from a breeder. She had been caged all her life, she couldn’t walk when we got her, her legs weak and malformed from the years in a wire bottom cage. Her coat was white, but so badly urine stained that it took us months to get it to a normal shade. She was loveable and funny and cuddly and quickly made up for the years of abuse by becoming the most spoiled of dogs. The two dogs had an uneasy alliance, Harper was used to being an only dog and Missy, to tell you the honest truth – was not all there, upstairs if you know what I mean. She tended to wander into walls, stare into space and sleep a lot. She didn’t harass Harper in any way, but he felt a tad put out.

The two dogs had the back seat of the car, and we didn’t travel far on any given day. Some days 4 hours, some days only 2 hours of driving, as the mood dictated. We spent an inordinate amount of time on the beaches of Oregon and we really dallied in Northern California. We met up with friends along the way, in Oregon, in Napa, in San Francisco and in Los Angeles. We’d spend a night, not more (who needs two people and two dogs dropping in on them for more than one night??) and then we would be on our way.

We had fully intended to go to Yellowstone park, but somewhere along the trip we heard they had an early snow fall and the park was closing. We decided instead to go to the Grand Canyon.

We left our friends in LA and started motoring along Hwy 15 towards Vegas. What’s a trip without a day or two in Vegas right? It was a hot day in the Mojave Desert, the topography did not endear itself to our hearts after the incredible Pacific Ocean vistas we had seen over the last 4 weeks (yes it took us four weeks to go from New Westminster to LA). Someone suggested a break just outside of Barker, Ca and we pulled into a gas station just off the free way. There was a MacCrappy and a little store and that was it. Buttf*ck, California. It was desolate. We polished off a couple of cool cokes in the shade of a patio table, and let the dogs out to anoint the cactus and sage brush.

On a last minute impulse (don’t ever give in to those!!) we decided to go into the store for a postcard or something. Andrea went ahead, and I put the dogs in the back seat of the car. It was only going to be for a minute, we had done this a thousand times. We always left the car running and the A/C on, we had two sets of keys and remotes so it wasn’t a big deal, right??

I had no sooner turned my back than I heard an ungodly shrieking, barking and growling coming from the car. It sounded as if the dogs were locked in a fight to the death. My heart raced a million beats a minute, I fumbled for the remote to open the doors, at the same time screaming for Andrea to come and help me. I had hurt my hand and had it bound in a tensor bandgage, but I managed to operate the remote. My hands would not cooperate to open the doors.

Andrea ran up and flung the back door open. The horrible noises intensified, one a deep seated growl and the other an anguished scream of pain. There was blood everywhere. Andrea pulled the big dog out and I reached for the little one. Oh my god. At this point, both Andrea and I are in shock. What happened? Did one attack the other? As soon as I picked up Missy I knew we were in serious trouble.

Her eye had popped out of the socket and was resting on her cheek. She was screaming with pain (can’t blame her!). We had attracted a lot of attention due to the noise (both ours and the dogs). A clerk from the store ran out with a wet cloth which I scooped up the eye with and popped it back into the socket. A State Trooper directed us to the nearest animal clinic (about 5 minutes away).

We all hopped into the car and raced to the clinic. I am sitting in the back of the car with a bleeding hysterical dog in my arms and Andrea is driving like a mad fool trying to find the clinic.

We found it, how could we not? It was the middle of the desert, there was scarcely other habitation for miles.The staff from the clinic took over in that amazingly calm way that medical professionals have, whisking the dog away into the back, and calming us down.

It appeared as if the big dog had attacked the little one, tearing the eye from the socket in the process. We were sick, it looked as if one dog was going to die from it’s injuries and the other might have to be put down.

Life has a way of turning on a dime. The clinic for animals was the only one for miles, we could never have found it without help. The doctor was in the clinic (this doctor only came in for two hours a week) and he was an eye surgeon. He operated on the eye and then spent time assuring us that there was no attack involved. The small dog was of a breed with weak eye sockets, apparently the eye could be popped by something as innocuous as grooming. He believed the big dog sat on the little dog. The barking, growling and carrying on was probably due to the distress of Missy from the injury.

He said he had buttoned up the eye – which I thought was a phrase not a reality but when we saw the dog, she did indeed have two shirt buttons holding her eye in place. We had to stay there for 3 days, while she was in care. We had to buy a lot of drugs (for the dog) and it was a pretty scary time. We thought our trip was over.

At home, vet care is expensive. Looking at the skill of the clinic and doctor and the amount of care, drugs and the operation itself, I figured we were running up a bill close to $5,000.

On the last day, the doctor declared Missy fit to travel, he gave us a plan and a list of vets along our way to stop in and see. She had to have the eye looked at every 2 days or so to check on the swelling and make sure there were no complications. He handed us the bill. A grand total of $234.00. What?? He just laughed and said it was a rural practice, he couldn’t charge city prices.

We continued on our way, all the way to Mexico, having many more adventures. The dog recovered within 10 days and was laying on the beaches of South Padre soaking up the sun.

And so it is I will always have a deep respect for country vets and the town of Hesperia. California.