Early this evening, I was putting out some recycling when a lady from the neighborhood walked by with her dog.
The dog was a beautiful Golden Retriever and appeared to be about seven or eight years old. He was slightly odd in that his front left leg was nowhere to be seen. But he was hopping along like it was business as usual.
I guess a dog who has lost a leg or perhaps was born with only three instead of the usual four doesn’t really think of himself as unusual, he just carries on and learns to deal with it.
The three-legged dog stopped at the bottom of my driveway and looked at me. I looked at him. The lady looked at me and smiled then released the leash she was holding.
The dog came up the driveway so say hello. I rubbed his head a bit and patted…
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