The Battle of Wounded Knee
Atlanta, GA
May 2, 2021
Few places are as gorgeous as Atlanta in the spring. Cool nights, warm days, low humidity, few clouds, abundant blossoms.
And a lot of pollen.
But that’s OK. Every binge has its hangover, every lining has its cloud, and every rose has it’s thorn. For several weeks our eyes water and our throats itch…but the azaleas are gorgeous!
Originally nestled like bed of begonias in the lap of the Appalachian foothills, Atlanta now crawls across the piedmont like kudzu up an abandoned wall.
Rare among large cities, ours is carved from a forest. Atlantans live beneath a thick canopy that, despite decades of suburban clear-cutting and rampant growth, still covers the bulk of the town.
Vast assortments of dogwood, magnolia, pine, maple, birch, and oak lend natural beauty to urban life, and provide welcome relief from hot summer days. Fortunately, the heat is still a month or two away.
I write now from our back deck, in a sweatshirt under a morning chill, warmed by fresh coffee and a loyal dog. Before us, a performance unfolds. From our front row seats, we watch and listen as fauna take the stage. From behind a curtain of thick forest, a family of deer parade across the set, taking refuge and relief beside a small creek.
A symphony of tweets, chirps, squawks, and songs rises in haphazard harmony from an unseen orchestra. Amid the leaves, cardinals, jays, goldfinch, and bluebirds patiently wait in the wings…as a hungry woodpecker monopolizes our backyard feeder.
In the distance, an owl hoots a wistful ode, while overhead a hawk circles, seeking prey among distracted squirrels and careless cats. Rabbits periodically appear, but have lately been more scarce, as foxes have become more abundant. Chipmunks scurry quickly among the bushes, as if changing sets between incessant acts.
Rocky loves the show. The sights and sounds from our morning perch always enchant our perceptive pup. As bees buzz between blossoms, they occasionally dive-bomb the dog, mocking him as they evade the futile grasp of his hungry jaws.
This is one battle Rocky should be relieved to lose. The only thing dumber than trying to catch a bee in your mouth is to actually succeed. He’s yet to do so, but may have hurt himself while trying.
Our canine predator is hobbled, and limited in his ability to leap. A month or two ago, we noticed Rocky walking with a pronounced limp.
Somehow, he hurt his right knee. No telling how an energetic animal who lurches for insects, barrels down stairs, slides into walls, or bumps his back as he runs under chairs could ever harm himself. But here we are.
The prescribed remedy is immobilization, which means confinement. He was at the vet for a week last month while we were in Alabama, and we kept him isolated a few days when he returned home.
But we soon succumbed to pity. Despite persistent gimpiness, a few days of drooped ears and puppy dog eyes persuaded me to let Rocky roam the room.
He’s still crippled, but is clearly more pleased lying at our feet than sulking in his pen. As with anything, there are trade-offs, and this one is worth it. He…and we…are happier. Before long, he’ll return to the vet, and we’ll try another corrective. Till then, we’ll protect his flank, and deploy defensive tactics in the Battle of Wounded Knee.
Meanwhile, our cup is empty. A soft breeze blows, and the chill revives. Time for more coffee.
JD
