A dampened, blood soaked towel was wrapped tightly around her head with strong gauze tape meant to compress her ear to cheek and jowl. When she first saw me her eyes rose in a small smile mixed with embarrassment for her odd appearance. Eva is our Labradoodle, more doodle than lab, but on this day she was the object of an unprovoked attack by a culprit unknown. What at first seemed a simple puncture was later revealed to be a Y-shaped tear that left a piece of her ear-flap hanging. When Dr. Golladay tried to shave away the silky fur from around the wound, Eva winced and looked at me pleadingly between a couple of short whimpers. Clearly this wound was big enough that shaving, surgery and sewing would all be required. I didn’t want, and she didn’t want me to leave her there but neither of us had any choice. I drove home with Quincy, our Labradoodle - more lab than doodle, who could not understand where Eva had gone, why we left her behind. ...