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Monday, December 21, 2015

Operations

The battered old Pork Chop
 sits in the sun.
This is another letter concerning my dearly departed pet Pork Chop who was first found wandering down my street.

Getting these things posted is my form of grieving I guess. I only had the old boy for seven or eight months I think, but I connected with him. We had both suffered so much.


9th November 2013
Dear Cassi,
       
I took Pork Chop back to the vet today just like they told me to and it was a dreaded expense. I arrived early and so walked the old dog in the parking lot until they open. I bled the wound on his face and got blood on my hands but this was little compared to what was to come.
       
They told me his weight was because of a thyroid condition and that he had some issues with his liver that need to be watched. That was all and well but they had to take him for the day to perform the operation. I just hope that when this is over he’ll be a happy dog once again.
       

I came back to the vet at around four thirty and it took them some time to collect my dog. This was all right as I spend my time talking up the receptionist who took something of an interest in me. I should have asked her out, but the daunting cost of vet bills made me think of other things. 
As I waited three young folks came in wanting to see the body of a pet that had passed and was ready for cremation. It was a man and two women that I took to be highs schoolers. The two young women ood and awed over my wounded dog but he did scare them deeply when he shook his head and sprayed blood all over the floor. The two girls gave Pork Chop a few pats and wished him well.
                                          
He did this again when he came home leaving something of a mess.  This rather bothered Pickle who recoiled at the sight of blood, but I’ve seen enough blood in my life so that it never bothers me. After all the old dog has suffered I wish he could have a comfortable life but as we both know it is never so simple.

Greet the challenges as they come, little sister,


Richard Leland Neal
A closeup of the dog's face

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