Once Bitten...

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.  His normal impish rambunctiousness gave way to a sulking sleep as he curled tight into the corner of the back seat.  He wasn’t there when Eva was bitten but I wondered aloud if he’d have returned the attack if he had been.  During my monologue, in the mirror I noticed him lift his head, then cock it left, as if to say, “damn straight.”

My attention shifted as the radio announcer said, “Major League Baseball has issued a suspension of Kelvin Herrera for five games.”  Sports talk radio instantly exploded with callers.  Some said that the sentence was unfair - others thought it was simply too light.  One caller screamed, “the pitch didn’t even hit him!”  “These Royals players need to just grow up,” another opined in a superior tone.  “The culprit, Brett Lawrie, got away scott free after injuring Escobar.  Where’s the justice in that?”, ranted one in a falsetto screech.  

Game after game, tit for tat.  Fox Sports reported, “The Royals are again waiting for Major League Baseball to render decisions regarding further discipline for players involved in Thursday night's brawl with the White Sox.  Lorenzo Cain, Yordano Ventura and Edinson Volquez were all ejected after Thursday's seventh-inning fight with Chicago, which saw White Sox pitchers Chris Sale and Jeff Samardzija get tossed as well.”  Volquez replied, “...I was trying to protect my teammates. If we're going to fight, we're going to fight together...”

Hockey, not baseball, is the game of brawls.  Football, not baseball, is the game where violent injury is inflicted by one player on another.  Baseball is a game where injuries occur when an outfielder crashes into the center field wall chasing a deep fly ball.  Or a pitcher tears a ligament when his arm contorts to throw a pitch faster than the speed limit on any highway in America.  Tripping on a base, diving for a ball, or blocking a bad bounce are all ways for baseball players to get injured.  Even a bench rider can get caught by a sharp foul if he isn’t alert.  But sliding, spikes up, into the shortstop, or throwing fastballs high and too tight have caused lots of players to spend time on the disabled list.  Occasionally, those acts ended a season or a career.  Baseball, in its history and traditions accepts it all.  

Time had come to get Eva.  It is a 40 minute drive to the vet clinic and I knew Quincy was anxious to see his sis, so I told him he could ride along.  Also, we needed to have a little talk about his attitude.  

“Quincy,” I said in my authoritarian master’s voice, “it’s cool that you care about Eva and are willing to risk getting chewed up by a bigger dog to protect her.  But sometimes it’s better to ignore a bully than to bite him.”  He looked bored so I went for a baseball metaphor.  “You know Quince, the humans at the doggie day care are like umpires.  It’s up to them to punish a rule breaker.  Yes, and remember too, that it’s almost always the one who retaliates, not the instigator, who gets caught and punished.”  During this ride, he never did pick up his head and cock it left - he curled and covered his ears with his paws.

Dr. Gollaway showed us the pictures of Eva’s ear, explained the surgery and gave us her medicine.  Eva came out with her head down, waddle-walking with tentative steps.  When she saw Quincy she smiled but came directly to me and sidled up to my leg.  Quincy smelled her ear, stood quiet and close, her protector.  Time to go home.  Quincy snuggled, nose to ear all the way home.  It was as if he was whispering to her.  “I’ll get him - next time, point him out to me!”  Eva pulled away a little and licked his nose, as if to say, “Let it go.”

--td