2 Rattlesnakes, 1 Pit Bull, and a Miracle!

By Lindsay Morris (Sadie’s mom)
Photos By Lindsay Morris

My husband Matt and I decided to take our dog Sadie along on our Memorial Day weekend camping trip to Angeles National Forest, in Los Angeles County’s San Gabriel Mountains, not far from Linda Blair Worldheart Foundation located in Acton, California. We had adopted Sadie from a rescued litter of Pit Bull-mix puppies about two years prior from Linda Blair’s rescue organization.

Since it was one of the busiest weekends of the year we hadn’t even tried to book a campsite in the Forest. Instead, we ventured off the beaten path to Devil’s Canyon, a wilderness area, which required no reservations. As soon we began our descent into the canyon, we pulled off Sadie’s harness. She galloped ahead, but then stayed and waited for us to appear around each bend. After we set up camp for the night she snuggled between our two sleeping bags in our creek-side tent. The next morning we decided to take a hike. Sadie leaped like a gazelle through the tall grasses, she was so happy.

It was noon when we started to pack up and prepare lunch. Matt suggested we refill our canteen with water from the stream, using our newly purchased filtration system. We crouched at the water’s edge—Matt, squeezing the pump, and I, holding the canteen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sadie swinging something. I turned my head, and screamed, “Drop it!” Sadie dropped what I feared she’d picked up: a snake. We ran to her side and she stared at the 3-foot-long rattlesnake gyrating in the grass. Matt grabbed a large rock and smashed the snake’s head. But then Matt noticed Sadie was bleeding and there were several pairs of puncture wounds on her face.

As a certified naturalist trained in outdoor first aid, I knew getting to a vet—not touching or trying to remove venom ourselves—was our only hope. I also knew we had a window of opportunity, just hours, before serious tissue damage would occur.

Matt scooped up Sadie and swung all 60 pounds of her over his shoulders and began to run. I raced after him, grabbing the canteen on my way. We didn't get far.

It was a rough creek-bed trail; the water flowed above our ankles, and we had to scramble over fallen trees and boulders. After about 15 minutes of struggling, we knew Matt couldn’t carry her the entire way out. He put her down so he could rest a moment. Just then, I saw a couple wading in the creek. “Help us!” I screamed.

Sadie, despite her condition, jumped up and ran to greet her new friends. Then, she crumpled to the ground, visibly weakened by the bites. I suggested we slip her into a backpack. The man (we were so upset, we never learned our good samaritans’ names) lent me his pocket knife, and I tore open the lining of my pack to allow for Sadie to slip in upright. The woman offered Matt her hiking poles so he could maintain balance with Sadie strapped to his back, papoose-style. That worked for another half mile or so until Sadie began squirming so much that we feared she’d fall out. Matt lowered the bag. This wasn’t working. He suggested he stay with Sadie; the couple and I could run to get help. Just as we set off, Sadie jumped up and ran in front of us on the trail. She wanted to walk. And so we let her.

She could smell the trail and helped steer us the right direction, occasionally stopping to sip water in the creek and cool her little feet. And then we heard a rattle.…

It all happened so fast; the snake latched onto Sadie’s neck! She shook her head with such force that the snake swung off and into the air. The snake was gone, but damage was done. Sadie’s throat and chin were bleeding. There wasn’t much time, and we feared the worst. We prayed that rattlesnakes wouldn’t strike more than twice, and we let Sadie continue on foot, with Matt walking in front of her and me staying close behind. The man ran ahead and the woman acted as caboose, instructing us which way to turn to stay on the trail.

This worked for about another half hour (we'd been on the trail for more than 2 hours). But Sadie was slowing down. The trail was steep and the hillside was sheer from a recent fire. There was no way we were going to get out of there while carrying her at that point.

So we did what we could: We cheered. We clapped. We whistled. And Sadie kept going. Her indefatigable spirit was contagious and pushed our tired bodies faster as we charged onward. It took us three hours to hike the four miles back to our car.

Our plan was to drive to a bar/restaurant near the trailhead and call for help. As luck would have it, I thought, a ranger truck was in the parking lot. I ran inside and found the ranger who called the station from his radio. Meanwhile, the bartender had called 911. Neither the ranger nor the paramedics could help us; they would not send a medivac for a dog. We only had one option: Get her to a vet.

We frantically dialed clinic upon clinic only to hear recorded Memorial Day messages as we drove 18 miles out of the San Gabriel Mountains to Studio City for the closest emergency vet. By then, four hours had passed.

The next night, as we stood in front of a bloated creature that no longer resembled Sadie, a veterinarian said, “We’re running out of options.” She was hooked up to machines and vials. An alarm sounded indicating that her heart rate had surpassed 200 beats per minute. Her head was the size of a watermelon, and the swelling had spread to her abdomen. An awful smell and black fluids spewed from her mouth. The vet did not think Sadie would last the night. Still, we authorized more antivenin and a blood transfusion.

We wept and stroked her ears, the only parts of her not swollen. Sadie started to sniff my hand. I pulled off my sweater and placed it in front of Sadie’s nose as we said goodbye.

The next morning’s report read that the vet had recommended euthanasia and that Sadie had then sat up and vocalized. The report went on to state that, later, when the time had come to transfer her to another hospital, Sadie had “walked to the van.” No one could believe the transformation that had occurred.

Today, six antivenin doses, six blood transfusions, six days in vet hospitals, and nearly $15,000 later, Sadie continues her miraculous recovery. To help promote awareness and raise funds toward medical bills, we launched a Facebook fan page named “Smiles for Sadie,” because we never thought we’d see her smile again. Thanks to doctors, fans, friends, family, and complete strangers, it’s a miracle that Sadie survived. This dog can't stop smiling now, and neither can we.

For more information visit:
www.facebook.com/smilesforsadie