Today’s strip was not available for preview.
So anyways, here is post-second captivity Wally shaking the hand of the Afghan-native who held him captive the first time and who sold the Taliban the missile that shot down the helicopter he was flying in prior to that first time being captured.
Have a nice Saturday, everyone!
FW’s most beloved character (by far) is finally back! No, not that bizarre Wally impostor, whoever he is. Of course I’m referring to Buddy The PTSD Service Dog, who’s as fuzzy and lovable as ever. It’s about goddamned time too. That’s a good, good dog!
Mysteries abound in today’s somewhat peculiar installment. Did Wally always wear those scholarly glasses? Why aren’t Wally’s male classmates smothering Buddy with love as well? Why is Rachel so insecure? Didn’t Batiuk use this exact same gag at least once before? So people still say “co-eds” in this day and age? I really don’t know, but I do know that these idiots are a breath of fresh air after two hundred consecutive weeks of Pete, Boy Lisa and f*cking comic books, that incredibly clunky line of expository dialog in panel one notwithstanding.
If only Tom Batiuk trusted his characters to inhabit their own stories. and his readers to follow along. We’ve long since established that poor Wally can barely function in 21st century Westview. But in a story arc where he’s the main character, we must listen to Wally’s wife and uncle cousin boss narrate the “action”. In the case of today’s strip, this is done in order to set up the wordless third panel punchline, where we see “focused and ready” Wally sitting intently, surrounded by his younger peers whose attention is anywhere but on the lesson. This marks quite a change for our Wally in the six years since his first community college go-round (see below), during which time he was not merely distracted but actually asleep in class. It’s gotta be those glasses!
Having exhausted the roster of cartoon cavemen, TB revisits a couple tropes from past Wally strips. First, the “Hey, you can’t bring that dog in here” guy, as seen in a restaurant a few years back. Wally explains that Buddy is “my service dog.” But according to the “Dogs and PTSD” page on the VA website:
A service dog is a dog trained to do specific tasks for a person that he or she cannot do because of a disability. Service dogs can pick things up, guide a person with vision problems, or help someone who falls or loses balance easily.
What you’ve got there, Private, is an “emotional support dog”:
An emotional support animal is a pet that helps an owner with a mental health condition. Emotional support dogs help owners feel better by giving friendship and companionship…In most states, emotional support dogs do not have special permission to go to all public places like service dogs do.
Fortunately for Buddy, he does wear that swell little vest and has a winning smile. Not to mention he’s a “chick magnet.” Perhaps Rachel’s come to accept that aspect, but when Wally brought it up a few years ago she sure gave him the stink eye.
Again with the friggin’ cartoon cavemen! I’ve tried to use restraint when it comes to judging Wally’s behavior on the chance that this might be a true-to-life depiction of life for an afflicted vet. But folks, Wally’s been back Stateside over seven years now. And sure, his wife and everyone in his hometown mostly left him to fend for himself. But seven years. This fish-out-of-water act is really getting old. Fortunately, the day is saved by a young lady so unconcerned about campus security that she cheerfully unlocks the door for a gaunt, older stranger in military fatigues.
Son of Stuck Funky 
