From the Annals of Volunteering…

Animal control brought us problems today – problems for us to fix and solve. First, was the wildcat. The lady officer took a hook and loop and grabbed a cat out of the back of the officer’s truck. The cat was just wild. It went just flailing about and shrilly screaming as she carried it inside to a empty cage in the cat room.

“She’s hurting it!” Tracy screeched, covering her eyes.

Next, was a sweet, small dog with a huge hideous looking tumor on its right rear quarter. The dog was amiable and seemed fine. I felt of the tumor as I carried him back to a kennel. He didn’t yelp or seem in pain. The dog was just completely famished and glad to get a big bowl of kibble and something to drink. I got down on my haunches and petted him as he ate and drank.

“We’re going to get you fixed up little buddy,” I told him.

“We are going to have to get that tumor taken off if anybody is going to adopt him,” Mrs. Barbara told me as I emerged from the kennels.

“He doesn’t seem to be in pain. It just looks really nasty,” I replied.

“I’ll take him to the Vet in the morning,” Barbara said.

It’s That Time of the Month and We Are Not Talking About Women’s Issues…

I saw him first. The meter reader that is. He was about a block over and heading our way. Maggie’s proximity alarm had already gone off probably due to the neighborhood dogs barking maniacally. She was already barking up a storm. I was just pulling in the driveway from the Humane Society. I quickly ran inside and locked the dog door before Maggie could escape to the backyard. I was then treated to an hour of vicious barking.