I sit on the floor of my living room. I make a circle with my legs and my dog finds his way there. He curls up and seems contented to be surrounded by "the boy." My hands find their way from his head to his hips and I feel his story along the way.
He is young, strong and fit. I can tell this from the shape of him. He is not a big dog, however. One of my hands covers his whole head. He's a burly boy but compact. If I reach, I can place my hands all the way around his chest. My thumbs meet in the middle.
Dogs are not people but, right away, I'm taken back.
My fingers meet between the shoulder blades and my thumbs are on the top of the sternum.
No person should be this small.
I squeeze and shove with my thumbs (We call this "chest compressions")
No person should be this small.
I am simultaneously squeezing and carrying this child.
Blue.
Floppy.
We push air in. We move the blood around. We do it all perfectly.
We know.
It is still exquisitely painful....for everyone.
Nobody should be this small.
--maddog
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