The episode began innocently enough. At 7:15, Kevin got up, slipped into shorts, a tee and sneakers, and took Cooper out to pee. I got up, made the bed, threw on a pair of shorts, a tee, and slipped into my flip flops. Soon, I heard the telling sound of Cooper padding back into the bedroom, the tags on his collar singing like a small wind chime. In the kitchen, Kevin was busy rinsing plates from last night’s dinner that hadn’t yet made it into the dishwasher. I heard him start the first pot of coffee for the day. He called to Cooper who turned from the bedroom and charged back toward the kitchen and dad. Time for a walk.
I put on my sunglasses and went out to meet my boys.
In the morning, I am on leash duty and Kevin is on clean-up patrol. In the evenings, it is the opposite. Kevin handed me the leash and I walked out the front door. We started down the sidewalk toward the gate in order to get out of the ‘hood for our usual morning walk. Along this sidewalk there are a number of different types of cactus, set back a bit. Small saguaros and prickly pear as well as cholla. Saguaros are the typical cactus most people associate with the desert. Tall, with arms that jut out and turn toward the sky. Prickly pear are short, bush like cactus with big flat paddles. Cholla cactus are rather like squat trees with cylindrical branches or stems and joints that grow up and in and over each other. All are covered with nasty needles.
We are always very careful to keep Cooper away from any form of cactus for obvious reasons. They bite. And when you end up with a cactus burr stuck to you, whether it’s to an item of clothing or skin, it is usually best to use pliers to grab it and pull it directly out and away. It is not fun. It would be equally bad in fur.
Maybe I was more tired than usual this morning. Maybe I simply wasn’t paying attention. Maybe I had been lulled into a false sense of complacency because he has never shown any interest in cactus previously. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Regardless, he moved in toward the cholla. I saw it at the exact time Kevin yelled: “Cactus!”
Too late. Cooper pulled himself back, yipping, hysterical, a cholla branch embedded in his mouth and the left side of his precious little face.
Shit, shit, shit!
I tried to grab it and pull it loose. It is nearly impossible to grab a piece of cactus without also getting impaled. I didn’t care. I managed to get most of it off and then shook it loose from my fingers. A small piece remained in his fur. I grabbed that, pulled and then shook that loose. Cooper was still yipping. There were several thorns stuck in his whiskers, in his mouth and he was shaking his head, pawing at the side of his face and crying. We turned and ran back to the house. Luckily we weren’t far. Kevin was leading the way.
“Get the tweezers!” I yelled as he burst into the house ahead of me. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom!”
Cooper and I flew into the house behind him. I kicked the door shut and holding tightly to his leash, keeping him moving forward, we went into the bathroom where the light is best. I sat down on the hamper bench, and forced Cooper to sit so that my legs could grip him, essentially trapping him. I wrapped the leash around my right hand to keep it taut, then I grabbed his head to hold it as still as possible. Kevin crouched on the floor, tweezers in hand, and one at a time, he pulled the thorns from our sweet boy’s face.
He had them embedded in his gums, in his bottom lip, under his nose. Thank dog none had gone into his eyes or into his nose. After about ten minutes, much wrangling, and one nip at mom’s hand – he caught my left thumb – we thought we had them all. Upon closer inspection, there was one still inside his mouth. Kevin went to the garage and grabbed work gloves for both of us. We were taking no chances of getting bit. Once again, I held Cooper’s head and mouth while Kevin surgically extracted this last of the offenders.

Cactus Cooper, post cactus
Finally finished, we all collapsed on the floor. Kevin and I were affected more than Cooper. For Cooper, as soon as the last thorn was pulled from his bottom lip he was fine. Tail wagging. Ears perky. Let’s have breakfast.
And so the Tuesday morning tale of Cactus Jack gets it in the kisser comes to a fitful desert end.
Celebrating tweezers today, and the incredible resiliency of animals. Though Kevin and I are still traumatized.