She was found last Saturday afternoon. Tied up to a pole behind a bar off of Broadway Avenue hours after giving birth. And while it was a milder day than we have been having here in Minnesota the wind had bite.

When I met her she had been in her run for only twenty minutes or so. I could see in her face she was crushed. I quickly avoided eye contact, turned my head to the side and offered her a big yawn. Softly I knelt down next to the bars of her kennel entry.  Slowly she walked up to me. She hesitated a moment before she sat down offering her side to me. There we sat, side by side. Ever so gently she offered me a slight turn of her face before she quickly and respectively glanced in another direction. Ahhh curiosity I thought.  This pleased me.

Once I had established a rapport I gradually turned my body to face her and get a better look at the poor girl. She was dirty. Mangy. Just a biddy little thing, white and brindle. In many ways she reminded me of my long lost Punk Rock Daphne when she first came into the program (pictured below). Biddy girl had the same hallowed expression.

It is so sad to me how little control over ones life a dog has. In my opinion that is what makes scumbag behavior toward the earth’s beast that much more intolerable.  Biddy didn’t choose to get knocked up. She did not choose to be separated from her babies. No, she was led away, brought to a strange place in the cold, tethered and abandoned.  I can’t allow myself to even think about the fate of the puppies she bore.

But there, in Animal Control, I felt hope for her. Drawn to the warmth of my kindess Biddy gave me small tail wags and soft kisses to my fingertips as they strained through the bars to touch her sweet haunted face.

I had to go.

I look at her one last time. “I will be back” I tell her with  my eyes.

And I will.

I choose to give this girl a chance. Even if that means my well intended fostering hiatus will come to a premature end.

Filed under: Observations & Reflection