An Unexpected Adventure

Exhausted. I debated with myself for a while before sitting down to write out my latest trip, mostly because I wasn't really sure it qualified as an "adventure". The majority of my travels involve doing something outdoorsy, and all of them are on my own time. This trip, however, was decidedly not outdoorsy at all, and it was for my job. That being said, the words I find myself using to describe the whole process to friends and family are "well, it was an adventure if nothing else," so I guess that's what it is! This trip involved traveling and an overnight stay away from home, so that has to count for something too, right?

The first week of March was a whirlwind of events. The non-profit Jared and I work for, Tiger Creek Wildlife Refuge, rescued a new cat who was in need of urgent medical care. The 2.5 year old female serval, Zuri, was awfully sick and her owner was not able to provide the time or medication needed to get her healthy. He was afraid she would continue to get worse and eventually die from her illness, so he made the responsible decision and reached out to our refuge to see what we could do to help. Around the same time that he surrendered Zuri we received a call from a producer at National Geographic to see if we had any cats that needed any sort of medical care. They were in the process of filming a show at Gulf Coast Veterinary Specialties down in Houston and were willing to cover the cost of veterinary care if we could come down to the hospital and allow them to film everything to do with our cat.

At incredibly short notice Jared and I had our overnight bags packed, Zuri loaded up, our own furry family squared away, and were on our way down to Houston! Four hours later we were greeted by the Nat Geo film crew and brought straight inside to the exam room, where we hurried up and waited. And waited. A tech came in and got Zuri's history, as much as we knew of it, and the camera crew was in and out getting pictures and video of the little serval, but it wasn't for another hour or so before we met the veterinarian. What would you do when you are waiting, but are in a professional environment, are wearing a microphone that may or may not be recording every noise you make, and have a sick wild animal on your hands? Jared and I weren't sure what to do either, and spent a large part of our day on our phones, talking to and trying to reassure Zuri, and annoying each other. The camera crews, technicians and veterinarians were in and out of the room all day, but still. It's a good thing Jared and I like each other!

The veterinarians consulting on our case agreed Zuri was suffering from several issues, including pancreatitis, kidney, and liver problems. She hadn't eaten much for two weeks, was extremely dehydrated and incredibly lethargic. All she wanted to do was hide in the blanket her previous owner had left for her. After a discussion with us regarding the pros and cons of further treatments we opted to place a feeding tube in Zuri's neck where we could deliver her needed nutrients directly into her stomach, as well as any medications that would help her start to feel better and eat on her own. After a little sedation they whisked her away for the proceedure, camera crew in tow.

Throughout the day while we were in the little room waiting the National Geographic producer for the show came and interviewed Jared several times. His first interview was right when we got there, there was a brief interview after the veterinarians came in and we talked about treatment options, and they wanted an exit interview just after they brought Zuri back to wake up with us. At that point, though, it was already after 5pm and we were looking at a drive back to Tyler in the dark. We knew we would have to stop often to check on Zuri, and there was a risk of her being too cold or throwing up due to the sedatives given to her. I had been in contact with my boss the whole day and had made a suggestion about waiting around to see how Zuri was before we headed back or got a hotel, but, trying to save Tiger Creek money, that we could cross that bridge when we got there. The reply was short: "We've reached that bridge. Find a hotel." We were staying in Houston.

It was in Zuri's best interest to keep her hospitalized and on fluids to help support her kidneys while the sedatives worked their way out of her system, so instead of sending her to a hotel with us National Geographic and the veterinary hospital covered the cost of her overnight stay in the icu ward. Jared and I somehow found a nice king suite for dirt cheap in a hotel only a few blocks from the veterinary hospital, and after we said our goodbyes and thanked everybody profusely we headed out to find food and a bed. Our hotel's shuttle took us to a nearby mall (that had an ice skating rink in it!!) where we found a hot meal, then went straight back to our room to crash for the night. It had been a long day.

The next morning was fairly quick and easy. We searched for Starbucks near us and had so many pop up just within a few blocks radius that we were astounded. There actually were Starbucks at nearly every corner. After our coffee fix we checked out of our hotel and went straight to the vet hospital to get Zuri. We had a brief wait in the reception area before they brought her out to us, with the camera crew following behind to capture the reunion. Zuri looked so much better! She was actually alert and sitting up, looking around and engaging with her surroundings. Jared had one final interview with the National Geographic crew and they waved us farewell as they filmed us loading Zuri into the truck to take her to her new home at Tiger Creek.

Our drive back was fairly uneventful, except Jared nearly gave himself whiplash from how often he was turning to check on Zuri during the four hours between Houston and Tyler. We had to stop a few times to reposition her leg with the iv catheter, keep her from chewing on it, and to just generally make sure she was behaving. She didn't enjoy the car ride very much, but finally settled down when we were about 90 minutes from home. Jared and I (mostly Jared) will have our work cut out for us for the time being, while we feed her through her tube until she starts eating on her own again. We are hopeful for her recovery and can't wait to get to know the newest member of the family. It's no secret that we consider every animal we care for one of our own, and she is no exception. The experience with Gulf Coast Veterinary Specialties and National Geographic will be one I will never forget; Zuri was able to get the best medical care available at no cost to our non-profit, Jared and I got a kinda-sorta mini-vacation away, and if nothing else it was a break from routine. Maybe not an adventure in my usual sense, but it was an adventure nevertheless!

What I'm listening to: Follow Me by John Williams

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Callie on Things

Whenever I have the opportunity I tend to put Callie on things, whether that's a rock or a log, or something less natural. The dog has incredible balance and can jump better than anything her size, which I credit to her breed and her attitude. If it's something she wants to do, she'll figure out how to do it and nobody is going to stop her! Her proficiency at scrambling has earned her compliments from many hikers whenever they see her skip up a rock slide they had just huffed and puffed to complete, and she often leaves me in the dust only to turn around and wait for me at the top or bottom of whatever obstacle I happen to be having difficulties with. I can't sing her praises loud enough, and I'm surprised more often than I'd like to admit at how perfect she is as my adventure companion. My only wish is that I could take her more places with me!

Backpacking Windmill

Undaunted. "Can I take a picture of you and your dog?" There was nobody else on the trail, so she couldn't have been talking to anyone beside me. Also, there was the small detail of Callie slung across my shoulders between the back of my head and the top of my pack, where I had put her at the beginning of the hike. We were on our way to the Windmill backcountry camping area, and just minutes before Callie had gotten into a fight with a cactus, and lost. She had been trying to avoid walking on the rocky trail, prefering to walk right along the edge in the softer grass. Unfortunately for her, a prickly pear cactus lay in her way, and instead of going around it she tried to go through it. Doing so didn't work out too well for her. There was no place for me to sit down to pull the tiny spines out of her legs without getting stuck myself, so I pulled what I could and threw her over my shoulders until we hit camp, about a mile later.

As I was unable to turn my head due to the dog against my neck and the heavy pack strapped to my back, I turned my whole body to see who was talking to me. A girl, probably just beginning her college years, was standing a few feet from me, her phone raised hopefully and a smile on her face. I acquiesced, with the condition that she took a picture of Callie and I with my camera as well. I had to get proof that I was carrying the little white dog so people back at home would believe me! After the photo-op was over, I took my leave, the girl trailing behind me further and further. I was headed to a backcountry campsite, yes, but I knew it would be "crowded." All of the campsites, both established and backcountry, were reserved, and I'd had a difficult time securing one for myself.

I should have known that everybody would be out on a gorgeous weekend, and that a state park so close to two major Texas cities would be booked up. I had stopped at the ranger station first thing when I arrived at the park that morning, hoping to get a backpacking permit near the river. At 10am, though, the ranger informed me that everything was full. I left disappointed, resolving to hike all day then head out of the park to find somewhere close by to camp. I checked back in at the ranger station just before leaving the park on the off chance that someone had cancelled their reservation and totally lucked out, there was a backcountry permit open!

I don't usually like using the word "luck", especially not when it comes to something I've worked to achieve. I am not lucky to have a great job working with animals, I've worked since the age of eleven through volunteering and getting jobs in animal-related fields to reach where I am. I dislike people dismissing years of hard work and ambition as "luck". I am also not lucky to get to travel to the places I go, or do the things I do. I intentionally save my money, negotiate more vacation time, and plan my travels to get the most out of them. Nothing I do comes easy, and certainly not with luck. There are, however, a few rare instances where something happens purely with luck, and I'm not above admitting that. It was straight up lucky that someone had cancelled their backcountry camping permit for the night that I needed one, when I had not had the foresight to reserve a permit myself.

We finally reached the backcountry camping area after what felt like miles, though it was only just over one full mile. I walked through the tents spread out across the top of the hill, looking for a secluded spot where I didn't have to look out of my tent door and see someone else's. The first thing I did was sit down on a clear spot and pluck cactus spines out of my dog. When I had her squared away and resting I set my tent up, rain fly off, and made dinner. We ate as the sun sank below the horizon, and crawled into the tent shortly after. Callie curled up and fell asleep immediately, and I journaled while the stars bloomed overhead and the coyotes yipped across the hills.

Of course, I didn't think about the humidity. Sleeping with the fly off in a tent that is mostly mesh is amazing when it's a clear night and the stars and moon are bright. Unfortunately, though, forgetting about the Texas humidity was a huge mistake. I woke up around 4am to what felt like a spotlight in my eyes, though it was really only the nearly full moon, and when I reached up to pull the hood of my bag over my eyes my had came back soaked. That woke me up properly, and I realized that everything I touched was covered in a fine layer of dew. As there was absolutely nothing I could do about it then, and the inside of my sleeping bag was still dry, I zipped my bag up higher and went back to sleep, resigning to being wet when we headed back to the car.

I was up with the sun, opening my eyes to a clear and still morning in which everything shimmered with dew. There were a few clouds on the horizon, but I didn't pay them any attention as I slowly gathered my gear and started packing. Suddenly, though, a wind blew up out of nowhere, blowing in a fog so dense I couldn't see the trail not even thirty feet away. As it got darker and darker, the early morning seeming to change it's mind and roll back to night, I began to worry about being caught in a thunderstorm with no shelter and started frantically packing my tent and belongings while Callie paced and shivered nearby. Just as quickly as it blew in, though, the wind blew the fog away and by the time I had cleared the ground of my belongings and leashed Callie up to hike out, the sun had broken through and everything sparkled in the dawn. With one last glance around, we hiked out in sunshine.

What I'm listening to: Take Me by Obsidia Feat. CoMa