On the topic of legs and vets, a few years ago an evil neighbor boy shot one of my pet ducks in the right knee with a BB gun. Took the duck to my genius vet, who used great skill and creativity to repair the duck's leg with some kind of plastic prosthetic device meant for human fingers. Leg healed fine and the duck could walk again, albeit somewhat gimpy.
Only downside was that whenever we would go to this vet, he would tell everyone in the waiting room that he fixed our duck. And that he did it with . . . "duck tape." Yuk, yuk, yuk.
The joke got really old, but we did not mind due to his brilliant surgical intervention.
The duck has since died of old age; the vet in now in prison for meth distribution, and the evil boy is committed to some institution for being evil and crazy.
And before anyone accuses me of outrageous thread drift, I really miss that duck, and I really miss that vet.
