Avast! Low George Silver!

This is the first installment of a chronicle of misfortune, woe, (unintended) cruelty, subsequent kindness, and modern attempts at correction of previous mistakes. If your sensitivities extend to reluctance to see graphic images of surgical correction of inbred problems, read no further. I am inserting an unrelated image first, to give you time to consider this before you scroll down to the main content of my post.
Our newest foster dog is George, a 4-year-old English bulldog. He has inherited an unusually serious set of maladies associated with the dog breeds that have been bred for unnaturally shortened and deformed skull structures, professionally referred to as the brachycephalic syndrome. Without going into too much detail (much more is available online, for those of you who would like more information), the main problems resulting from this unfortunate inbreeding are the result of inadequate nasal airways, elongated soft palates, and facial skin and eye problems. George has all of the above.
When I accepted him on Thursday for a few weeks of foster care, he had undergone surgery for correction of a condition commonly called “cherry-eye,” which is an enlargement and prolapse of a gland within the nictating membrane (third eyelid) of his right eye. He seemed to be doing well, or he would not have been released to post-surgical foster care. He proved himself to be a perfect gentleman, playful and lovable, and approaching our resident cat, Leo the Magnificent, with gentle respect.
The veterinarians at the Humane Society had prescribed an antibiotic ointment. In spite of application according to their instructions, the swelling and inflammation increased over the weekend. I took him in again on Monday to consult with two of the staff veterinarians (one of whom had performed the initial surgery, and said that it had been the worst case of cherry-eye that she had ever seen), and we agreed that the best and kindest course of treatment was to surgically remove his right eye with all of the attached tissue that was refusing to heal.
His surgery was performed successfully yesterday, and he came home with me again in the afternoon. He has come though his ordeal in fine fashion, and seems ready to take on any new challenge. He still looks rather—shall we say angry?—but he can’t help that and, as I’ve come to know him quite well, he’s actually smiling and looking forward to a new and better life. I thought he might come “home” with an eye patch, in anticipation of which I entertained the idea of a pirate analogy (hence my title), but that turned out not to be the case. What a joy it is to be able to be an integral part of his new lease on life!
By the way, I made that first photo back in October 2008 in White Oak Canyon near Syria, Virginia.