“It’s a dog,” Melonie voiced first. “I saw him move.”
“We have to turn back,” I said.
“OK.”
I did a U-turn and we pulled to the shoulder of the road in front of the sandy coloured bundle. I walked back slowly and stood a short distance away. The dog’s chest was rising and falling in quick breaths where he lay. He wore no collar and was thin, with a long snout and short, coarse hair.
I checked my mobile phone. I had a weak Internet connection, enough to Google “animal rescue Alice Springs” and be directed to the local RSPCA.
“We know someone who’s missing a dog,” said the woman who answered the phone when I explained the situation.
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but he looks like a dingo to me, not a domestic dog,” I said.
“Oh...” the woman hesitated. “Well, I’ll have to call around and see if I can find someone to come out. You keep going on your trip.”
“No,” I said firmly. “We’ll wait right here until someone arrives. The dog is really suffering.”
And he was. Now he was trying to stand again, like we’d seen him do in the distance when we were driving. He writhed hard with his upper body but his back half wouldn’t budge. Then he whined in pain. It was pitiful and it broke my heart.
“Shh, shh... Don’t struggle, poor guy,” I said gently in his direction. “Shhhh....”
Melonie and I discussed donning the leather gloves we always carry on the road, placing the dog on a tarp, and transporting him back to Alice. The likelihood of being bitten by an animal in pain ended that idea quickly, though.
I reached for my phone again. Surely there was someone who would be more responsive than the woman at the RSPCA. A quick scan revealed an organization called Desert Dogs was rehabilitating dogs in the Aboriginal community of Yuendumu. The town was 200 km away, but there was a mobile phone number, and a name.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Gloria?”
“Yes.”
“I found you online. Do you know anyone who will come and help a dog that’s injured beside the road? We’re just 10 km north of Alice Springs, on the Stuart Highway. He’s been hit by a car. I think his pelvis is broken, but he’s alive.”
Gloria swore under her breath and promised to call me back. Five minutes later, she did.
“The council’s sending a ranger out,” she said.
“Are they really?”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s what they said.”
“OK, well, we’re not leaving until someone gets here.”
I hung up.
The wild dog cried out again and stared at his paralyzed hind legs in confusion.
Another half an hour passed.
Melonie flagged over a man driving a ute. The man tried to give the dog some water, to no avail. Then he took off, saying he would stop at the council to make sure the ranger was coming.
Melonie sat in our van with the phone. I stayed near the dog, reciting prayers and mantras that came to mind, with the small hope they might somehow, some way ease his pain.
Another phone call came in, this time from the council. The ranger couldn’t find us.
“Oh, come on. We couldn’t be more obvious,” I heard Melonie say. Then she patiently explained again our exact location.
The man in the ute came back. He’d seen the ranger on the highway and had tried to flag him down, but he’d driven back towards Alice.
“Don’t worry; they’ll get him on the radio and send him out again,” Melonie tried to reassure me.
A couple of minutes later, the ranger’s vehicle arrived. More than 90 minutes had passed since we’d first spotted the dog. I had to remind myself to assume the ranger was a kind and decent human being.
They were actually two rangers. A man and a woman dressed in khakis approached us. To our great relief, they showed real concern. They would sedate the dog, the female ranger explained, and then, unfortunately, he would be put down.
“There’s no one who will put him back together and release him?” I asked, somehow knowing what the answer would be.
“There’s no funding for wildlife rescue in Alice Springs,” she answered. “Plus, the wild dogs, well, they’re really pests right now. They’re coming into town because they don’t have enough food and water. They’re killing people’s dogs. He’ll have to be put down.”
“And how will he be put down?” Melonie asked.
They would have to shoot the dog, the woman ranger answered honestly, because the city vet wasn’t in town to give him a less violent end.
The male ranger injected a syringe of of sedative into the dog’s shoulder area. Within moments, the animal’s eyes closed, his head rolled back, his breathing slowed.
There was nothing more for us to do. Reasonably confident in the competence and compassion of the rangers, we walked back to our van. My last image was of the dog’s face, once wild now muzzled, with a wire loop around his neck that lifted his limp and broken body into the cage on the back of the ranger’s 4WD.
I hung up.
The wild dog cried out again and stared at his paralyzed hind legs in confusion.
Another half an hour passed.
Melonie flagged over a man driving a ute. The man tried to give the dog some water, to no avail. Then he took off, saying he would stop at the council to make sure the ranger was coming.
Melonie sat in our van with the phone. I stayed near the dog, reciting prayers and mantras that came to mind, with the small hope they might somehow, some way ease his pain.
Another phone call came in, this time from the council. The ranger couldn’t find us.
“Oh, come on. We couldn’t be more obvious,” I heard Melonie say. Then she patiently explained again our exact location.
The man in the ute came back. He’d seen the ranger on the highway and had tried to flag him down, but he’d driven back towards Alice.
“Don’t worry; they’ll get him on the radio and send him out again,” Melonie tried to reassure me.
A couple of minutes later, the ranger’s vehicle arrived. More than 90 minutes had passed since we’d first spotted the dog. I had to remind myself to assume the ranger was a kind and decent human being.
They were actually two rangers. A man and a woman dressed in khakis approached us. To our great relief, they showed real concern. They would sedate the dog, the female ranger explained, and then, unfortunately, he would be put down.
“There’s no one who will put him back together and release him?” I asked, somehow knowing what the answer would be.
“There’s no funding for wildlife rescue in Alice Springs,” she answered. “Plus, the wild dogs, well, they’re really pests right now. They’re coming into town because they don’t have enough food and water. They’re killing people’s dogs. He’ll have to be put down.”
“And how will he be put down?” Melonie asked.
They would have to shoot the dog, the woman ranger answered honestly, because the city vet wasn’t in town to give him a less violent end.
The male ranger injected a syringe of of sedative into the dog’s shoulder area. Within moments, the animal’s eyes closed, his head rolled back, his breathing slowed.
There was nothing more for us to do. Reasonably confident in the competence and compassion of the rangers, we walked back to our van. My last image was of the dog’s face, once wild now muzzled, with a wire loop around his neck that lifted his limp and broken body into the cage on the back of the ranger’s 4WD.
Left to die. Tens of thousands of wild animals are injured or killed on Australian roads every year
Please Consider
- Wildlife rescue organisations operate in many parts of Australia and often post road signs with an emergency phone number
- When such an organisation is not available, it’s best to contact the local city or regional council
- It only takes a couple of minutes to look up the relevant numbers and enter them into your mobile phone when planning your trip
- Many Australian animals are nocturnal. You can drastically reduce the chances of hitting one by slowing down and avoiding driving at dawn, dusk and night
- Take responsibility. If you do hit a wild animal (or bird, or cow) go back and check the extent of its injuries. Your intervention could prevent days of needless suffering
- Move a dead animal off the road to prevent wedge-tailed eagles and other birds from being struck while feeding on the carcass
- Prepare for complacency, especially in remote areas
- Carry hardy gloves, a shovel, towel, etc. for helping an animal in need
- Obviously, do not put yourself at risk of injury when helping or moving an animal
- Support effective local and national animal advocacy organisations, such as Desert Dogs and Animals Australia.
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