He’s somewhat formal but friendly, when you first meet him. After he gets to know you, he’s the most happy-go-lucky fellow you’d ever meet. Young and healthy looking, except for the left leg having very limited use.
Originally from Dallas, Texas (home of capital punishment), it turned out Minnesota was a better place for him. His left femur had been broken, and healed incorrectly; the broken bone ends not aligned properly. Hip dislocation serious enough that it’s assured that attempts at repair will not be successful.
The longer term result is that arthritis and other problems will make the hip joint extremely painful, necessitating long-term pain medication use, increasing over time. The doctor’s advice? Amputate the leg now, even though it’s roughly 50 percent useful.
Also, two rounds still inside, one in the side, another in the knee joint of that poor abused, unlucky left leg. And the bad dreams that have been coming back, almost every night, that he can’t talk about.
But there won’t be any honoring for my new friend this Memorial Day, no one paying for his lunch at the Black Bear Lounge. He’s not an Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea, Panama, Grenada, Nicaragua, etc., etc. veteran.
He’s a small, mixed breed, stray dog, about 2 years old; an awfully rough two years. What sort of person feels so bad about themselves they do these sort of things to a weaker creature? (Well, not counting Wall Street beating up Main Street. The wealthy-greedy versus The People.)
I don’t diminish what our combat veterans were made to go through. One of my older brothers didn’t return; one did, with maybe similar dreams and mental scars to the little dog.
We sure need to quit tolerating those who beat up animals; we sure need to quit making more veterans.