The Death to Life Journey of Boaz (Kibar Kodaman Boaz) by Kris Bryant
Note: This incredible dog is Walker's Great Great Grandsire. His story will show you the unimaginable courage of our breed and what they can and will overcome. Boaz is the sire of Fayda, the foundation bitch of the Gerlach line. This story was published many years ago in the Anatolian Times.
I awoke suddenly as a loud scream broke through the night an all too familiar sound; there was a mountain lion in with our Pot-bellied pigs again. It had been over a month since our last encounter, and feeling, safe, we had moved our best dog to the sheep area. But now he was needed with the pigs -- and fast! I flung off the covers and struggled into my shoes. There was already an Anatolian Shepherd in the pig field, to keep off coyotes, but she could not handle a mountain lion. For that, we needed BOAZ. We called him our hero dog. As gentle to little lambs as he was lethal to predators, he could handle anything.
The snow crunched under my feet as I ran for the pen. BOAZ was already ahead of me. With his powerful neck he had broken apart several strands of our woven wire fence and was struggling to push through. I opened the gate and he shot like a pistol into the dark night, bellowing his warning. Satisfied that all was safe, I headed back to bed. No need to wait for BOAZ. Mountain lions were his specialty, and I knew he'd be the victor. He was our hero dog. He was undefeatable. I went back to sleep.
The next morning, BOAZ was not in with the sheep. He wasn't in with the pigs, either. In fact, he wasn't around anywhere. By 9 A.M. I was getting worried. BOAZ was not one to leave his flocks unattended, and it had been five hours. I got in my car and drove up and down our deserted road, looking and calling with no luck. When I got home I called my husband. "Pray for Bo," I said. "Something has happened to him." And I sat down and started praying myself. Around 11 o'clock, the phone rang. It was the vet's office 12 miles away. They had BOAZ. He had been hit by a truck and was not expected to live.
At the vet's office I learned the story. Two men had been driving down our road and seen what they thought was a deer, lying in the meadow about 100 feet from the road. Free meat is a treasure in Durango, and they hurriedly stopped the car to go and see if the meat was fresh enough to butcher. When they got up to the animal, they found not a deer but a dog. He was dead, they thought. His head was a bloody mess, his body shattered, and he didn't seem to be breathing. His tongue and gums were completely white. Weighing well over 100 pounds and unconscious, I'm sure it was a challenge to lift him and carry him the 100 feet back to their car, but they did it, and in the same manner placed him on the vet's table. As he came to, his pain was obvious, and the vet gave him a shot of pain killer. "It's a very good thing you had that medical alert tag on his collar", the vet told me later. "We only used 1/2 dose like it said, and even that much knocked him completely out. If we'd have used the normal dose, it might have killed him." A chill went through me as I remembered that I had only put the tag on BOAZ 2 weeks earlier.
BOAZ lay sleeping in the vet's kennel run. Every bone in both hind legs was broken in several places. His right hip joint had been sheered completely off, and the bone in his left leg, from hip to the first joint, was completely separated in seven places, with multiple fractures in each of those segments. His head suffered from impact injury, there was a massive concussion, and when I looked into his eyes, I could not even see the irises. "He's a real fighter", the vet said "When he came in here I was sure he would die, but he's pulling through. He's a strong dog. His condition is very bad, and I can't say that he'll make it, but he's sure trying to." I put on hand on his nose and stroked his shoulder. His breathing pattern showed that even in his unconscious state, he knew me. "He's a beautiful dog," the vet said. "If he makes it through the night, he will probably live. I don't know how much we can save of his back end. The damage is extensive, I can't guarantee we can fix him. If he makes it that far, the surgery will take a long time and it's going to be expensive. You're looking at well over $1000. Frankly, most people would have him put to sleep, but I' II leave that decision up to you," he paused for a moment. Do you want us to try, or should I put him down?"
I looked at BOAZ, lying on the floor, battered and broken, pain in his expression even through his sleep. The money was a lot for us, but our livestock was our livelihood. and who could ever replace this dog at any price? Anatolian are great, but his one was exceptional. This was BOAZ, who at seven months had stood off his first mountain lion, who had rescued our hatchling ducks from the woodpile, and driven off countless marauding coyotes. He was our hero dog. he was undefeatable. "Do everything you can," I said. "Save him."
It wasn't until the drive home that I realized what a miracle this all was. For him to still be alive after such a bad injury was already amazing, but there was more...He had lain for 3-5 hours on the ground in winter. Any other morning he would have frozen to death, but this morning had been unexplainably warm. Our road was normally deserted, especially early on a Sunday. But this morning there was a car, and even though the dog was not beside the road, the riders saw him. Despite the fact that the riders thought he was already dead, they lifted and carried him to the vet — a feat which required the strength of two men. When the men arrived at the veterinary hospital, they found the vet IN! -- on a Sunday morning! He had come in to care for his boarding patients because his vet tech was down with the flu. And, of course. the medic alert tag. A normal dose of the pain killer might have killed BOAZ. A dog who was so badly injured that his tongue and gums were completely white — and yet, here he was, 9 hours later, clinging to life.
As I pondered these facts I became convinced that BOAZ would live. It seemed that God was already moving mountains on BO's behalf and had been answering our prayers before we even thought of them. What other explanation could there be for all these impossible details?
BOAZ made it through the night. Then he made it through the surgery; but his right hip could not be saved. They also removed about 30% of the muscle tissue on both sides which was irreparably damaged and would never grow back. The rest they were able to pin and screw and wire together in a way that would hopefully heal. Only time would tell. We took him home from the hospital on a stretcher 2 days later.
The vet gave us explicit instructions on BOAZ' care. He could not walk or even prop himself up, so he would learn to live laying on his side for the next six weeks, and we would have to turn him every 2 hours to prevent bedsores. He could not wiggle around to facilitate bathroom needs, so we would have to clean him. He could not prop himself up to eat, so we would have to feed him. Within 2 weeks he would be able to turn himself but would not be walking for several months. We put him in our guest room where we had laid a tarp over the rug, filled with pine shaving. Turning him gently and cautiously was a two-man job, day and night, He cried out in pain when we did it. Two days later, something was amiss. "Did you turn BOAZ?" I asked my husband. "No, of course not." "But he's on his left side. I thought we just put him on his right side." Must be the lack of sleeping making us mixed up. An hour later, we came to turn him to the right. "He's already on his right side. Didn't I just say he was on his left? Or was it his right? We hung a note on the door "ON LEFT'. A half hour later, he was on his right side. I called the vet. "BOAZ is turning himself, " I said. The vet was surprised. It should have been 2 weeks before BOAZ was able to do this. It had been only 4 days. BO'S indomitable spirit had triumphed again! And so began his journey back to life. From that point on we saw changes daily. Not only could be turn himself, but he began to crawl around, and in less than two weeks was pulling himself up on his front legs. But the battle wasn't over. As he fought with all of his heart against his limitations, he met a wall that he could not break through . In BOAZ' mind, he had become a house-bound cripple in terrible pain, with no end in sight. He became deeply depressed and refused to eat. There was no way we could explain to him that he would one day be well, no way to get him to understand. He seemed to want to die. We tried force feeding BOAZ but he was miserable. I could shove food down his ample throat, but I couldn't give his life meaning. Or could I? I went to the feed store and bought 20 day-old chicks and dumped them in the guest room with BOAZ His ears lifted for the first time in days. Caring for his new baby chicks became his deepest passion. He guarded them jealously, broke up their squabbles, fished them out of the water bowl, and cuddled them to sleep at night. As they grew, so did his strength and before long, BOAZ was walking around on his front legs. The vet could hardly believe this latest trick and drove out to see it for himself. BOAZ would shove his elbows under his ribcage and swing his front end forward and down, so that his entire body was supported on his front two legs. In this way, he learned to walk — never dragging his painful hind end, but actually lifting it off the floor. His front legs and shoulders grew massive. It's amazing how well a dog can learn to get around on just two legs, and soon the entire house was his domain.
After six weeks, the pins were removed from BO'S legs and he began his battle in earnest. Eventually, his back legs did come down and he gradually began to try his weight on them. From start to finish, this journey took about 2 years. By the time it was done, BOAZ had undergone 3 surgeries, 10 months of rehabilitation and over a year of physical therapy. It was probably one of the roughest ordeals a domestic dog has ever been subjected to, but his great heart and unquenchable spirit carried him through. Today he is up and about, walking and running on all four legs, and of all our 5 Anatolians, he still shines as the best working dog we have ever known. His legs occasionally give him a lot of pain, but that never for a moment interferes with his fulfilling his duty as a livestock guard dog. Even on his worst days, when he's sore and stiff and slow, BOAZ is off like a rocket at the slightest hint of danger. He can still whip a pack of coyotes, best our other Anatolians, and I would not hesitate to stand him against a mountain lion. Fate may have battered his body, but it could not mar his bold and faithful heart. He is still our hero dog. And he is still undefeatable. Our vet said he would be sterile, but his first litter is due December 18th. I guess it goes without saying that we will be keeping one of the puppies.
The snow crunched under my feet as I ran for the pen. BOAZ was already ahead of me. With his powerful neck he had broken apart several strands of our woven wire fence and was struggling to push through. I opened the gate and he shot like a pistol into the dark night, bellowing his warning. Satisfied that all was safe, I headed back to bed. No need to wait for BOAZ. Mountain lions were his specialty, and I knew he'd be the victor. He was our hero dog. He was undefeatable. I went back to sleep.
The next morning, BOAZ was not in with the sheep. He wasn't in with the pigs, either. In fact, he wasn't around anywhere. By 9 A.M. I was getting worried. BOAZ was not one to leave his flocks unattended, and it had been five hours. I got in my car and drove up and down our deserted road, looking and calling with no luck. When I got home I called my husband. "Pray for Bo," I said. "Something has happened to him." And I sat down and started praying myself. Around 11 o'clock, the phone rang. It was the vet's office 12 miles away. They had BOAZ. He had been hit by a truck and was not expected to live.
At the vet's office I learned the story. Two men had been driving down our road and seen what they thought was a deer, lying in the meadow about 100 feet from the road. Free meat is a treasure in Durango, and they hurriedly stopped the car to go and see if the meat was fresh enough to butcher. When they got up to the animal, they found not a deer but a dog. He was dead, they thought. His head was a bloody mess, his body shattered, and he didn't seem to be breathing. His tongue and gums were completely white. Weighing well over 100 pounds and unconscious, I'm sure it was a challenge to lift him and carry him the 100 feet back to their car, but they did it, and in the same manner placed him on the vet's table. As he came to, his pain was obvious, and the vet gave him a shot of pain killer. "It's a very good thing you had that medical alert tag on his collar", the vet told me later. "We only used 1/2 dose like it said, and even that much knocked him completely out. If we'd have used the normal dose, it might have killed him." A chill went through me as I remembered that I had only put the tag on BOAZ 2 weeks earlier.
BOAZ lay sleeping in the vet's kennel run. Every bone in both hind legs was broken in several places. His right hip joint had been sheered completely off, and the bone in his left leg, from hip to the first joint, was completely separated in seven places, with multiple fractures in each of those segments. His head suffered from impact injury, there was a massive concussion, and when I looked into his eyes, I could not even see the irises. "He's a real fighter", the vet said "When he came in here I was sure he would die, but he's pulling through. He's a strong dog. His condition is very bad, and I can't say that he'll make it, but he's sure trying to." I put on hand on his nose and stroked his shoulder. His breathing pattern showed that even in his unconscious state, he knew me. "He's a beautiful dog," the vet said. "If he makes it through the night, he will probably live. I don't know how much we can save of his back end. The damage is extensive, I can't guarantee we can fix him. If he makes it that far, the surgery will take a long time and it's going to be expensive. You're looking at well over $1000. Frankly, most people would have him put to sleep, but I' II leave that decision up to you," he paused for a moment. Do you want us to try, or should I put him down?"
I looked at BOAZ, lying on the floor, battered and broken, pain in his expression even through his sleep. The money was a lot for us, but our livestock was our livelihood. and who could ever replace this dog at any price? Anatolian are great, but his one was exceptional. This was BOAZ, who at seven months had stood off his first mountain lion, who had rescued our hatchling ducks from the woodpile, and driven off countless marauding coyotes. He was our hero dog. he was undefeatable. "Do everything you can," I said. "Save him."
It wasn't until the drive home that I realized what a miracle this all was. For him to still be alive after such a bad injury was already amazing, but there was more...He had lain for 3-5 hours on the ground in winter. Any other morning he would have frozen to death, but this morning had been unexplainably warm. Our road was normally deserted, especially early on a Sunday. But this morning there was a car, and even though the dog was not beside the road, the riders saw him. Despite the fact that the riders thought he was already dead, they lifted and carried him to the vet — a feat which required the strength of two men. When the men arrived at the veterinary hospital, they found the vet IN! -- on a Sunday morning! He had come in to care for his boarding patients because his vet tech was down with the flu. And, of course. the medic alert tag. A normal dose of the pain killer might have killed BOAZ. A dog who was so badly injured that his tongue and gums were completely white — and yet, here he was, 9 hours later, clinging to life.
As I pondered these facts I became convinced that BOAZ would live. It seemed that God was already moving mountains on BO's behalf and had been answering our prayers before we even thought of them. What other explanation could there be for all these impossible details?
BOAZ made it through the night. Then he made it through the surgery; but his right hip could not be saved. They also removed about 30% of the muscle tissue on both sides which was irreparably damaged and would never grow back. The rest they were able to pin and screw and wire together in a way that would hopefully heal. Only time would tell. We took him home from the hospital on a stretcher 2 days later.
The vet gave us explicit instructions on BOAZ' care. He could not walk or even prop himself up, so he would learn to live laying on his side for the next six weeks, and we would have to turn him every 2 hours to prevent bedsores. He could not wiggle around to facilitate bathroom needs, so we would have to clean him. He could not prop himself up to eat, so we would have to feed him. Within 2 weeks he would be able to turn himself but would not be walking for several months. We put him in our guest room where we had laid a tarp over the rug, filled with pine shaving. Turning him gently and cautiously was a two-man job, day and night, He cried out in pain when we did it. Two days later, something was amiss. "Did you turn BOAZ?" I asked my husband. "No, of course not." "But he's on his left side. I thought we just put him on his right side." Must be the lack of sleeping making us mixed up. An hour later, we came to turn him to the right. "He's already on his right side. Didn't I just say he was on his left? Or was it his right? We hung a note on the door "ON LEFT'. A half hour later, he was on his right side. I called the vet. "BOAZ is turning himself, " I said. The vet was surprised. It should have been 2 weeks before BOAZ was able to do this. It had been only 4 days. BO'S indomitable spirit had triumphed again! And so began his journey back to life. From that point on we saw changes daily. Not only could be turn himself, but he began to crawl around, and in less than two weeks was pulling himself up on his front legs. But the battle wasn't over. As he fought with all of his heart against his limitations, he met a wall that he could not break through . In BOAZ' mind, he had become a house-bound cripple in terrible pain, with no end in sight. He became deeply depressed and refused to eat. There was no way we could explain to him that he would one day be well, no way to get him to understand. He seemed to want to die. We tried force feeding BOAZ but he was miserable. I could shove food down his ample throat, but I couldn't give his life meaning. Or could I? I went to the feed store and bought 20 day-old chicks and dumped them in the guest room with BOAZ His ears lifted for the first time in days. Caring for his new baby chicks became his deepest passion. He guarded them jealously, broke up their squabbles, fished them out of the water bowl, and cuddled them to sleep at night. As they grew, so did his strength and before long, BOAZ was walking around on his front legs. The vet could hardly believe this latest trick and drove out to see it for himself. BOAZ would shove his elbows under his ribcage and swing his front end forward and down, so that his entire body was supported on his front two legs. In this way, he learned to walk — never dragging his painful hind end, but actually lifting it off the floor. His front legs and shoulders grew massive. It's amazing how well a dog can learn to get around on just two legs, and soon the entire house was his domain.
After six weeks, the pins were removed from BO'S legs and he began his battle in earnest. Eventually, his back legs did come down and he gradually began to try his weight on them. From start to finish, this journey took about 2 years. By the time it was done, BOAZ had undergone 3 surgeries, 10 months of rehabilitation and over a year of physical therapy. It was probably one of the roughest ordeals a domestic dog has ever been subjected to, but his great heart and unquenchable spirit carried him through. Today he is up and about, walking and running on all four legs, and of all our 5 Anatolians, he still shines as the best working dog we have ever known. His legs occasionally give him a lot of pain, but that never for a moment interferes with his fulfilling his duty as a livestock guard dog. Even on his worst days, when he's sore and stiff and slow, BOAZ is off like a rocket at the slightest hint of danger. He can still whip a pack of coyotes, best our other Anatolians, and I would not hesitate to stand him against a mountain lion. Fate may have battered his body, but it could not mar his bold and faithful heart. He is still our hero dog. And he is still undefeatable. Our vet said he would be sterile, but his first litter is due December 18th. I guess it goes without saying that we will be keeping one of the puppies.
