Really, Cher? A Story With a Dog In It
Dr. Gorgeous’ office called to tell me about a stray dog that needed a home. The receptionist said the staff was reluctant to send her to the local shelter because of the low odds of her surviving. Dr. Gorgeous had suggested me. I agreed to take the stray unseen.
As I drove to the vet’s office, I tested out cutesy girl names. And then I met her.
The stray was a mutt that resembled a small German Shepherd. She looked more wolfish than domesticated canine. Her coat was brindle, almost the same color as my skin, with irregular dark markings that looked like zigzag lines of tar. She had wolf ears that she rotated like antennas. The staff gushed about her cheerful personality. Clearly that persona had departed as soon as I had entered. We studied each other cautiously like opposing gunslingers facing off in a dusty western town.
She just seemed standoffish and sneaky to me. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was emitting a vibe that was sloughing off like dandruff. But I saw what I saw. We were eyeing each other suspiciously.