Before I begin this week’s tale ,I must get something off my chest. Recently someone went to the vet and had a growth removed from their dog. When it came time to pay the bill they said, “Lennie said he would handle it.” When I  finally reached these people they didn’t know me, but their neighbor said I would do this. I paid the bill, not wanting the vet’s office to handle it, they do enough for me. Had I been properly contacted I probably would have helped anyway, but I would have evaluated the situation and made that choice.  Those who donate to my cause do so in good faith and I am expected to choose wisely and fairly how their money is spent.
Last week I received a call concerning Brinks, a beautiful 2 ½ year old red Doberman. The story involving Brinks and his family’s problem unfortunately is not all that unusual, but sad nonetheless. A young man without a job and a young wife working three jobs to hold things together. A divorce is eminent and an angry young man backs out the drive and hits their dog. Many things ensue until I finally get the call from an older relative who now has the dog but doesn’t have the money to help him.
“I think he’s sprained his right hip, Lennie and he has trouble putting his leg down.”
“Okay,” I reply “get him down to Landrum vet first thing and I’ll see he’s looked at and taken care of.”
They promise to help with the bill as best they can and I thank them for trying.
The next morning I visited Brinks for the very first time and could tell the boy was in obvious pain. He was sweet, trusting and gentle as I reassured him things will get better. I learn from Dr. Donna Raines that he’s had the injury since Thanksgiving and I am furious.  I’ve come across this scenario all too often, people have problems and the animal who doesn’t have a say in the matter, suffers.
Subsequently the ball joint from Brinks’ hip was removed, he’s received a full bank of immunization shots and is recovering nicely. He receives daily  antibiotics for joint relief and will need two weeks of R&R before he’s released.  He will go to the responsible older relative and I have been assured from a family member I trust implicitly, that she will take him should any problems arise.
I visit Brinks daily and each time I arrive at his pen, his little nub tail wags with excitement.  “How’s my boy, Brinks?” I say as I open his cage door and sit in with him.  He’ll lay his head on my lap and close his eyes with contentment as I constantly stroke him and speak words of encouragement.  I weep from the folly of it all and at times I feel like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike.
I kiss Brinks between his eyes and rise to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow dear boy, it certainly has been an honor and a privilege to know you.”
Thanks for listening.