Page 18 of Bailey

“Twenty minutes,” Reeves said. “We were hiking over on the Swain’s Creek Trail, and he ran over to a hole or a den. Then the bees started buzzing everywhere.”

“Trevor, we’re going need the oxygen here,” Bailey said, and her vet tech opened a cabinet. Bailey tilted her head and listened to Sir’s breathing. “Mild noise,” she said as Trevor positioned the oxygen next to her.

“Reeves, will you move over there against the wall?” She nodded behind her. “Right in front of him, so he can see you, but you won’t be in our way.”

He did what she said.

“Can you get him to lie down?”

“Lie down, Sir,” Reeves said.

Sir whined, and gagged, and coughed as more drool continued to drip out of his mouth. Bailey fitted the oxygen over his muzzle, which was puffy and swollen, the reaction moving up into his eyelids.

“Has he vomited?” she asked.

“No,” Reeves said.

“Do you want epinephrine, Doctor McAllister?” Trevor asked.

“I’m thinking an antihistamine and a steroid,” Bailey said. “He hasn’t vomited.” She ran her fingers down his neck and across his back, and then his front paws. “There are no hives.” She glanced over to Reeves again. “How many yellow jackets?”

“A whole swarm,” Reeves said. “He whined and yelped, and I called him back, but I didn’t have him on a leash, so I couldn’t pull him away. He retreated, and when I got to him, there were probably, oh, a half-dozen yellow jackets on his face.”

Bailey nodded, and she looked at Trevor. “I think it’s a moderate reaction, and since we don’t know how many stings, go grab the Epi and get a catheter tray.”

Trevor left the room, and Bailey stroked her hand down Sir’s back. He tried to paw at his face again, and she shushed him and put her other hand over his arm.

“You’ve got to leave it alone, bud,” Reeves said.

Sir trembled a little bit beneath her touch, and his breathing was still too fast.

“He’s breathing okay,” she told Reeves. “Trevor’s going to bring in an IV, and we’ll give him epinephrine if I think he’s going into anaphylactic shock. He doesn’t seem to be right now, but we’ll give him an antihistamine, which will immediately help with the itchiness part of his allergic reaction. Then I’ll give him a steroid. Both of those can be done with an injection that will suppress and control the inflammatory response.”

“Why both?” Reeves took a step closer to Sir, then another, joining Bailey at the lifted platform where his dog lay.

“They do different jobs,” Bailey said. “The antihistamine will act fast and provide him some relief. The steroid works slower over time to keep it suppressed.”

“Do you think he’s going into anaphylactic shock?” Reeves asked.

Bailey gazed down at his beautiful dog. Sir looked up at her and whined. “I don’t think so,” she said, just as Trevor returned.

He pushed a cart with everything they’d need to insert an IV, should that become necessary. Bailey reached first for the cool compress, and she wrapped it under Sir’s muzzle and around the top of his nose, pulling the ends of it right up over his eyes.

“Can you hold this here?” she asked Reeves, her eyes locking onto his.

Something charged and powerful moved between them, and Reeves nodded as he put his hand where hers had been on the top of Sir’s head. “You’re all right, bud,” he murmured. “You’re going to be okay, because Bailey’s here.”

She looked at the cart Trevor had brought in, and she reached for the antihistamine. “Trevor, let’s do it back here in the hind leg,” she said.

Trevor moved around her, and she handed him the syringe and then picked up the steroid. Bailey put one hand firmly on Sir’s front shoulder, whose breathing had slowed slightly. She wanted to listen to his lungs again, but he hadn’t whined further, and she looked at Reeves. “We’re going to give him two injections, one right after the other.”

Reeves nodded, and she looked to Trevor and nodded at him too. He injected the medication into the thick muscle of Sir’s hind leg and pressed over the site, massaging it while he switched syringes with Bailey. In went the steroid, and he stepped back.

Bailey slid her hands down and rubbed along Sir’s hindquarters on both sides. The dog had barely moved, and her heart filled with affection for the boxer. “I want to listen to his lungs again,” she said. “And I want to look at his gums.” She bent low over him again and closed her eyes as she listened to the air entering Sir’s body. “His breathing has already cleared up a little bit,” she said. “Reeves, can you pull that compress back?”

He did, and Sir looked at him miserably. Bailey gently pulled the oxygen mask off and smiled at the dog as she moved in front of him. “I want to look in your mouth, bud. Okay?” She smiled and even laughed lightly. “Yeah, you look terrible, don’t you? But we’ve already given you some stuff to help with that.”

His pulse was strong, and he seemed to be breathing great. “He doesn’t need an IV,” she said to Trevor as she gently lifted Sir’s upper lip to see his gums. “These are pink.”