Tuesday, January 01, 2002

The New Year started out on a bittersweet note. About mid-morning I noticed my little cat staring out the window from her perch on the back of my couch. A large, white dog was hobbling along the sidewalk in front of my house. He wasn't on a leash, and I could see no person around who might be walking him. The dog was very friendly and seemed well cared for, although there was something wrong with his paws. He was wearing a collar but no i.d. tag. I went back into the house, put the cat in the bathroom (the big cat was outside somewhere) and brought the dog inside. He sat down in front of the screen door, and I gave him some water to drink. Then I called the Humane Society. Someone else had seen the dog wandering around, so the Society had already sent a truck out looking for him.

When the driver arrived at my house, he asked me to hold the dog because he had to move another dog he'd already picked up into a smaller cage on the side of the truck so "my" dog could fit in the large cage. The other dog was a pit bull he had rescued from a setup fight. His comment was that the dog was in pretty bad shape. The pit bull seemed friendly enough--he was wagging his tail and not snarling--but the driver took no chance and used a long rod with a leash on the end to move the dog. When the pit bull was removed from the large cage, there were blood marks from where his tail had hit the side of the cage.

The driver led my dog by a leash only and helped him into the truck. Because he looked so well cared for, I'm sure his owners will find him at the Humane Society. But I am sad for the pit bull. I don't think he can be rehabilitated.

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