Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16
Stardog and I hiked about six hours yesterday. I didn’t intend to go that long, I really didn’t. But as per usual, once I got out there I just found too many places to explore. Keeping on a schedule when out in the mountains is not my strong suit. I always seem to find one more ridge or grove of trees or stream that beckons for some investigation. The wind was stronger than I’d hoped for and it was a cold day.
Still, we hiked.
Star once found a porcupine trundling along the ground in this area. It was one of the few times I’d forgotten to take my camera on a hike. That was unfortunate, as most of the time when I see one of those critters, they’re up in the trees. They often tend to look like a dark blob in a picture. Once this porcupine realized he’d been seen, he drew up into a tight ball and remained still. As Star and I circled slowly around him, he simply rotated with us, keeping his prickly back pointed toward us while protecting his underside.
Star was in front of me and out of sight when she first saw the porcupine. A large wild rosebush had blocked my view. When I came around it, I saw Star sitting about twenty feet away, looking down at the porcupine and then back up at me. Her ears were up and eyes wide. She had an expression of “Hey, look what I found! What is it?” on her face. As curious as she is, I am so grateful she didn’t stick her head right into the thing.
Our old yellow lab, Moon, once found a porky in some big rocks while we were hiking. Moondog wasn’t as cautious. He truly was one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever owned, or even been around, but he made a mistake that time.
Moon had seventeen quills stuck in the end of his snoot by the time I realized what he’d found. These were small quills, about an inch long, so they may have come from the underside of the porcupine. I didn’t have anything but my hands to pull them out, and it was a trying time. I got fourteen out easily, but three were in pretty deep. Each time Moon would lick the end of his snoot, he would push them farther in. A little blood was trickling from the wound, so he’d lick all the more.
Finally, I managed to get two more out, but one remained firmly anchored by the barbed end. I’d heard about these barbed quills moving deeper and deeper as they get into something. I really didn’t want a vet to have to track this thing down inside of Moon’s snoot as it travelled toward his brain.
By this time, most of the remaining quill was no longer visible sticking out of Moon’s rubbery snoot. My fingers kept slipping off as I tried to pull it out, the added slobber from his licking not helping the situation. As I thought of this sharp quill moving into Moon’s head, I started getting desperate. We were a long way from any vet clinic. If we tried to hike out, Moon would surely push it completely in and out of sight by the time we got to the truck.
I prayed again as I pinched the thing as best I could between my thumbnail and my forefinger. I tugged for probably the twentieth time, but this time the quill came out. I stood there for a moment, staring at the sorry thing in my hand. Then I closely examined the end to see if it had broken off, but thankfully, it remained intact. My knees were a bit wobbly by then, so I leaned against a big boulder to keep my balance. I also remembered to breathe again.
Deep sigh.
Thank You God.