September has not been a great month. My six-year-old dog Willie ruptured a ligament in his right knee two weeks ago. During his weekly Thursday trash-night walk on the leash (his favorite activity), he jumped up onto a low wall, turned and screamed--I carried him home. After x-rays under sedation, he had surgery Tuesday and came home yesterday. I am his nurse, forcing pills down his throat; later I'll be his physical therapist. He is so sad--pink bandage covering stitches on the back leg, shaved upper leg, chartreuse bandage on the front from the IV, and the cone. He heard me taking the trash down tonight so I carried him to the street for a short two-and-a-half-legged walk in front of the house.
We thought Willie was lazy when he'd stare at us--waiting to be lifted onto the sofa; didn't know he had bad knees.
I do realize that we are but specks in this world of floods, earthquakes, fires and mass killings. May everyone have better days.