She is recovering well and will go on to thrive, but I can’t imagine what the animal control officer must have thought when he picked up the frightened Pit Bull from the side of the road. The whole of her chest was furless–and totally infested with maggots.
No one knows for sure, but the shelter staff’s best guess is that she fell (or was thrown) from a moving vehicle, and the skin from her neck to her belly was left completely shredded.
The dog wears a t-shirt now to protect the huge, raw area, and green wiry stitches zigzag three-quarters of the way around her neck. She doesn’t seem to be in pain and nuzzles closer as I scratch her ears and stroke her back.
I catch a faint whiff of something medicinal as pus from her wounds creeps up over the shirt collar. But as I lean in to sniff her head, the scent is unmistakeably, deliciously dog.