Doesn’t matter what time of year or what day of the week. On any given afternoon, there all always more dogs in the Intake building than I have time to visit. Today I focus solely on the Pit Bulls – and even then, there are still too many to attend to.
The range of assortment is striking, from young pups to old men, from needy to shy to outgoing to hyperactive.
Two had come in together. It wasn’t clear whether they’d been made to fight or had just gotten into a scrap somewhere along the way. One has the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen–and a golf ball sized tumor on his hind leg.
Not far down the run is another pair who arrived attached at the hip. One’s ears are clipped, but neither looked malnourished – nor like they’d been forced to fight, thankfully.
And in the next run over, I play “find it” and “stretch” with an orange pup in a pink collar. Clearly she’d had a home. By the looks of her, she’d been at least adequately cared for. So where is her owner?
By the time I reach the Pit Bull/Shar Pei mix on the far end of the runs, it is nearly the end of my shift. We go for a quick session in the park, off leash, and it does us both good to play chase in the sun. I leave her in her kennel with a tennis ball and a peanut butter Kong. It makes shutting the door only slightly less heart-wrenching.
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