Snakes and Dogs

In eleven years, we've had five snakebitten dogs, but never the same dog bitten twice. There is talk that a dog builds up an immunity to a snakebite , but I don't believe it. I think I've seen coverage of people bitten twice, and they sufferred severe reactions both times. Years ago, our lawnmower repairman claimed to have been hit on two separate occasions and claimed "it felt like being on fire." He didn't mentioned hospitalization nor did he show me the bitten areas so I am not sure of his veracity. We lost our first dog to a cottonmouth bite down at the pond. Tasha said, " I called the puppies and Maverick. Maverick came up from the pond, but the puppies stayed. Then he went back, and I am sure it was to protect the puppies from the cottonmouth."
Tasha immediately took Maverick to the emergency vet and found out that because of a shortage of antivenin, the vet had none. The veterinarian later said that she had considered dispatching her to the University of Florida animal hospital to secure some vials of antivenin but decided against it. Instead she treated Maverick with fluids and monitored him. That was a mistake because when Tasha transferred him the next day to our regular vet, he said Maverick needed antivenin and gave it to him immediately. But the beautiful, black lab died a very painful death later that night. Hawkeye and I were in Virginia on our way to a fishing trip at Smith Mountain Lake. We had our bass boat with us and were almost at the lake when Tasha called us about Maverick being bitten. Much to Hawkeye's anger, I aborted the trip and we drove the thirteen hours back to Florida. I got to the animal hospital a little before dawn and called for Maverick hoping he woud hear me and rally. Then I went home and waited for the staff to open the hospital. Soon we got the call: Maverick had died. I will always remember this scene with Maverick: Once we took him to the vet's for a checkup as he was running a temperature. The vet could find nothing wrong except his temperature. I brought him back to the property, and for some reason, my son, Hawkeye, and I began throwing a frisbee to him. He was a young dog, very enthusiastic and tireless. As we threw the frisbee and he retrieved, it finally dawned on me and I shouted, "Hawkeye, what is wrong with me? Maverick's running a fever, and we've tossed this damn frisbee to him about a hundred times." That is just one of many lapses of judgement I've had since coming to Florida. I don't know if the summer heat has baked my brain or it's simply age.