Dexter can go pretty low.
Although Tweed, who is the Boss Of Everything (he’s 13.5 years old, he’s allowed), would like him to go lower.
Dogs can go pretty low. People can be a lot lower.
So, you know how when you decide to broker some puppy mill puppies online as a money making venture, and one of your adult dogs tries to rip the face off one of your cash-cow puppies, so you take it to the local animal control shelter and pretend you “found” it that way so you don’t have spend money on it / take care of it?
Yeah, me fucking neither.
Say hello to Martine, a 12 week old rough collie puppy who has had a rough week. First of all, some assholes were trying to sell her and her sisters her on an online auction site for a few hundred dollars. Then one of the asshole humans’ asshole dogs decided Martine would be more interesting WITHOUT HER FACE and tried to tear it off. So they wrapped a sock around the gaping flesh and dropped her off at my shelter, claiming they found her that way.
However, there were some things they didn’t count on. They didn’t know that my receptionist called in sick, so I was covering the front desk the day they brought the puppy in. It probably never occurred to them that maybe The Boss/Food Lady monitors that auction site. Never in a million years would it have crossed their minds, I’m sure, that The Boss/Food Lady REMEMBERS EVERYTHING SHE READS and also BURNS INTO HER BRAIN the faces of shitty brokers selling their collie puppies online so that she RECOGNIZES THOSE FUCKERS from the photos of them holding the collie puppies!!!
TFL is also handy with a screen capture, and is quick to capture the part of the auction where the brokers post their full names, phone number and home address so she can give it the SPCA to follow up on. Oh hellz yeah I did.
TFL is also a sucker for a sad puppy, so after sending the sad puppy to the vet to have layers of flesh and muscle sewn up around two drain tubes, she brings her home and cuddles her and listens to her gurgle as she tries to breathe through the fluid in her nasal cavity because of the trauma to the bone.
There are no sad emoticons that are sad enough. My heart hurts all the time in this job.
When some macho creep calls me a bitch because I won’t give him back his roaming, intact, aggressive Presa Canario for free free, I wonder how am *I* the bitch?
When some lady tells me I have “no sympathy” because I won’t put her at the top of the list for a dog she wanted to adopt after she didn’t call me back for 4 days, 4 days in which that dog sat in a cement kennel waiting for her or anyone to make up their mind about giving him a home, I think “how can you even say I have no heart?”
I have a heart, it’s just breaking into smaller and smaller pieces every time someone hurts a puppy, or abandons it in a park to fend for itself.
The good news is that Martine is a better person than I am. She has already forgiven, and moved on. She holds no grudge against people or dogs, and is a lovely, social, brave and wonderful puppy. Her drain tubes came out today, and she’s healing. And she’s healing me too.
She’s a very good girl. So smart! She knows her name, she comes when she is called, and she is almost housebroken already. She is the POLAR OPPOSITE of Shut The Fuck Up, who thinks her name is “What The Hell Are You Doing NOW??”, runs away when I call her and pooped on my living room carpet not 5 minutes after we came in from an hour’s play outside.
STFU is leaving for her new home tomorrow, I think. She’ll have her own stay at home mum, and a big ole Lab to boss around. Fingers crossed for a successful adoption please! Because, you know, 10 dogs in my house. Yep.
In other adoption news, I have finally listed Winter for adoption. What with the chicken killing and all, he should probably find a home of his own. I suspect he’s going to be a hard sell though, because he’s had to go back on the Zylkene … he started peeing in the house again recently, and has escalated from stealing a single sock and sleeping with it to gathering up all my clothes that he can reach and making a nest of them, to stealing money off my desk, presumably so he can try to buy my love.
I don’t want to keep Winter (or Kieren) because I don’t want this many dogs. But I admit I am having a tough time even thinking about letting Winter go. I will miss photo ops like this for many more reasons other than they are HILARIOUS.
Sometimes it’s hard to be me. But not, I imagine, as hard as it is to be Dexter. What with the wheels-spinning-in-mud-in-place-of-thoughts and all.
I expected very little of him from the trial last weekend, and I was not disappointed. He was 0 for 3, crashing through jumps with his face or just running around them altogether. Dexter is now my “class” dog, who will no longer trial because it’s like wiping my bum with fistfuls of cash.
Spring, OTOH, was marvelous and had two clean runs out of three, and has moved up a level. She should have gotten a Steeplechase Q, but she was too busy visiting the judge and ring crew, so we are now practicing focus and not being so social when we are supposed to be ‘working.’
And by the way, if you are looking at her toenails and wondering whether or not to point out how long they are – don’t bother. This photo was taken a day after nail clipping day. That’s as short as they get! She has the longest quicks EVER.
Lastly, for no real reason whatsoever, chickens.