It's not just his understanding of me, although that's part of it. With a word, Tuesday can guide me to dozens of places. He can be my surrogate or a mirror to my heart.
Luis Carlos MontalvánWhy don't you grab a chair," I joked, "and sit down!"
And then, like she so often did, Mary smiled.
When he lay beside me with his dog-breath sighs, it was if he was saying, Give me your sadness. I will take it, as much as you need. If it kills us both, so be it. I am here.
Luis Carlos MontalvánMoments of quiet friendship are what life-makes everyone's life-grand".
Luis Carlos MontalvánWe aren't just service dog and master, Tuesday and I are also best friends. Kindred souls, Brothers. Whatever you want to call it.
Luis Carlos MontalvánAs always when I was in trouble, I looked down at Tuesday. I could see his concern, but also his confidence in me. There was something about his eyes, when he looked at me, that always said, I believe in you, Luis.
Luis Carlos MontalvánThat's the moment when Tuesday, after all his caution, stopped being just my service dog, and my emotional support, and my conversation piece. That's when he became my friend.
Luis Carlos MontalvánWhenever I needed a reassuring touch, Tuesday was there. He was my miracle dog. I already loved him and depended on him more than any other animal I'd ever known- and most other people, too.
Luis Carlos MontalvánMaybe PTSD really is triggered by a single incident, a stressor, as it's known in the psychiatric community, and maybe the attack at Al-Waleed was that stressor for me, but as I have learned in the intervening years, I was not damaged by that moment alone. In fact, while there are specific memories that resurface with some frequency, like the suicide bomber in Sinjar or the order riot at Al-Waleed, I find myself most traumatized by the overall experience of being in a combat zone like Iraq, where you are always surrounded by war but rarely aware of when or how violence will arrive. Like so many of my fellow veterans, I understand now how that it is the daily adrenaline rush of a war without front lines or uniforms, rather than the infrequent bursts of bloody violence, that ultimately damages the modern warrior's mind.
Luis Carlos MontalvánA few days later, Tuesday quietly crossed our apartment as I read a book and, after a nudge against my arm, put his head on my lap. As always, I immediately checked my mental state, trying to assess what was wrong. I knew a change in my biorhythms had brought Tuesday over, because he was always monitoring me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Breathing? Okay. Pulse? Normal. Was I glazed or distracted? Was I lost in Iraq? Was a dark period descending? I didn't think so, but I knew something must be wrong, and I was starting to worry...until I looked into Tuesday's eyes. They were staring at me softly from under those big eyebrows, and there was nothing in them but love.
Luis Carlos MontalvánTags: love true-love iraq dog dog-lover iraq-war dogs-loyalty warrior bond tuesday ptsd wounded wounded-veterans tbi
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