So, with Kate out of the house for a spell, we have found we cannot leave well enough alone. I’ve been feeling my next pet out there looking for me for some time, and I’m thinking I may have found her.
This is Wendy:
I’m not sure if we’ll get her; there are a couple of other applications in for her, but I’m hopeful. I went down to the shelter in Detroit to meet her Thursday, and man — you think you’ve seen it all, and then you visit a Detroit animal shelter. I honestly don’t know how people who work in these places do it, but I expect it’s a matter of getting hardened, and also deaf. Not to mention growing accustomed to, for example, people like the woman who walked in midway through my application interview, looking for a place to drop off her cat, which needed to be euthanized. She was old, in her 60s at least (although it’s possible she was just a 45-year-old crackhead, or ex-crackhead), with several tattoos of spiders crawling up her neck and across her face. Alternating-color nail polish. Deeply wrinkled. She didn’t want the cremation option at $130, because she didn’t have the money. She didn’t want to see the cat afterward either, lord no.
Here were some of the interview questions:
Did I understand that dogs required veterinary care that could total $100 a year or more?
Where would the dog sleep? Inside?
Was I employed?
How did I intend to treat chewing or destructive behavior? (“Um, chew toys?”)
What would we do with the dog if we had to leave town?
Who would be responsible for her care?
And so on. I felt myself rising in esteem with every inquiry, and stood there, next to Spider Woman, in my Bermuda shorts and clean black T-shirt thinking, “These people are not going to kick too hard about us not having a fenced yard.”
In fact, I think we may have vaulted to the top of the list. I tried to get another picture of Wendy during our visit back in the kennel, but she wouldn’t hold still. I think I captured the most important part, though:
She’s not quite a year old, and has spent the last four months at the shelter. She was picked up as a stray, and had an old fracture of her right foreleg surgically repaired to the best of the vet’s ability. The office staff seem to think very highly of her, and like all Jack Russells, she thinks very highly of herself, too.
We’ll see. If she goes home with us, it won’t be for another week, as I have to take a short work-related road trip next Wednesday (photo posting only, I fear). This didn’t seem to be a problem.
Wendy, you silly pup. Are you my next dog?
No bloggage tonight. I’m thinking about dogs right now.