The shelter is packed, as I knew it would be, with strays from what seems like the four corners of the state–and everywhere in between. Many fled the comfort of home to escape the terrifying noise of fireworks, but ended up lost, and now here…
Currently, my resident favorite is the one-eared Pit Bull with the splotchy skin and unusual markings. My guess–and I have no evidence of this other than her appearance–is that she was a breeding dog. Perhaps the botched clipping of her right ear rendered her too funny-looking to fight, so she was used to make babies. And that she clearly did.
No matter what her past, she has no animosity towards humans–at least towards those of us tending to her at the shelter. She wiggles and wags with a seemingly insatiable lust for affection. I happily indulge her.
