Dog Rescue

By Jim Shelton

Saturday, October 18, had begun normally enough. I was in Murfreesboro, Tennessee to help a friend with her garage sale. It was a cool, clear fall morning and our first customer had yet to arrive.
My cellular phone rang and it was Geoff Post, a friend who lived an hour south of Murfreesboro. He informed me that a friend of his was raccoon hunting the night before on one of the ridges near Martin Springs, Tennessee and his dog had ran into a sinkhole (or pit, as they're known in the caving community). The depth of the pit was unknown, but it was assumed the dog had died as a result of the fall. Since it had been a while since his last caving outing, he wanted my help in recovering the dog's body. Apparently the owner was very attached to the animal and wouldn't rest until it was brought out of the pit. I told him to expect me early Sunday, and went back to the sale.
Three hours later Geoff called again. He had rigged the pit and rappelled part of the way down to a small ledge. Peering into the pit with a hand-held spotlight, he had observed the dog at the bottom, still alive. I immediately drove back to my home in Nashville, grabbed my caving equipment, and headed for the owner's farm in Martin Springs.
Upon arrival I loaded my gear onto a four-wheeler and started up the ridge followed by Paul, the land owner. Twenty minutes later we found Geoff and Larry (the dog's owner) standing next to the pit. It was a narrow opening about fifteen feet long, with varied width of one to four feet. I wasn't familiar with the pit, but it had definitely been dropped. I observed grooves in the rim made by caving rope, and wear on trees nearby indicating their use as anchors. Geoff had rigged two ropes, and I was informed that one was perhaps 50' shorter than the other. I checked the rigging, put on my ascending gear, attached my rack to the longer rope and squeezed through the opening.
The pit immediately opened to a twenty by eight foot oval, and belled out as depth was attained. There were many small ledges on either side of the pit, and a major promontory about 40' from bottom. These features were likely what saved the animal, as he probably bounced or “pin-balled” from side to side on his fall. The short rope just reached the last ledge, and was knotted at the end. The long rope had surplus coils at the bottom. I estimated the depth of the pit to be 140'.
Halfway down I stopped, looked below and spotted the dog. He was sitting on his haunches with his head down, swaying slightly from side to side. I dropped quickly from the last ledge and bottomed out, detached myself from the rope, and walked over to him. I've witnessed injured dogs snap and bite at helping hands, so I proceeded cautiously. Crouching down, I stroked his head, speaking his name and murmuring the things that people say to dogs. Still, there was no response other than a faint whimper.
There was blood on the rocks around him, but not the profuse amounts one would expect from hemorrhaging. I considered this a good sign. I placed a mesh gear bag next to him on the downhill side of the slope, and tried to roll him into it. He growled low when I touch his sides, so I let him settle down and tried again. He eventually allowed me to lay him down in the bag, and I zipped it closed with just his head protruding. I affixed a line to the grab handles and clipped it onto a loop in the longer rope. On my command, Geoff hoisted the bag while I tended the slack to keep it centered in the pit. About four minutes later, Geoff called "off-rope". I called "on-rope," attached my ascending gear and climbed out of the pit.
By the time I reached the top, Larry had taken the dog off the mountain. We de-rigged, coiled the ropes, and loaded up for the trip down. The landowner had prepared fried chicken and fixings, so we all ate and discussed the day's events. An hour or so later, Larry walked in carrying the dog. Veterinarian's report: No broken bones, just a severely bitten tongue and some scrapes and cuts. He set the dog on the floor, and we watched amazed as he limped across the room to the owner's daughter. She took him for a hot bath while we said our goodbyes. The owner was almost in tears as he expressed his gratitude, and told me I could bring my friends and cave on the property anytime. You could tell he loved that little dog.
Geoff called me the next day and said the dog had revived, was eating, and could be found walking around the barnyard. One tough canine!

Postscript from the author: I dug up Deer Bone Pit in my log book, and it's the one. I bounced it probably ten years ago, and had approached up the same cove but didn't recognize it.