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This afternoon, the team returned to our base as normal.  But instead of Scarface, the energetic team puppy, greeting us as we dismounted the trucks, we located him sprawled on a doormat with a sizable gash on the right side of his chest.

The irregular, semicircular wound was approximately an inch and a half long.  We speculated that the gash may have resulted from an encounter with razor sharp concertina wire, but more immediately, we speculated that this wound could easily end our puppy's life.  So we called upon our team medic, Sergeant 'Doc' Montes of Washington State.

Doc has never shown much of a liking for Scarface.  Actually, he frequently displays the opposite, going on and on about rabies, rashes, late night barking, and doggie landmines.  Still, the Hippocratic Oath kicked in, and, on this day, Doc’s heart grew in size two times.

While Sergeant Parker, Lieutenant Jay Alaniz and I held Scarface down and Sergeant Murrell braced his head with a rope muzzle, Doc stitched the gash shut.  It was my first time seeing stitches not on myself.  After studying Doc’s motions, I am confident that, if necessary, I could give someone stitches.

The operation required five stitches.  Scarface has returned to his regular, energetic self.  We have no idea about what caused the gash.

The Wound.

Doc prepares to dish out medicinal magicianry.

Doc makes like Betsy Ross.

From left to right: Sergeant Murrell has head, Sergeant Colon tries to get a peak, Lieutenant Jay Alaniz has left front arm, I hold the rear legs, Sergeant Parker steadies the right leg and Captain Mack Kelley (fresh off of leave) helps with supplies

Five stitches and a fur trim. Free of charge, Pup.