Hello, Kitty

This is the story of a dog without a name. Someone noticed her tied to a box in her yard, with a few scraps of dried-out bread nearby. She asked the owner if she could have the dog, and was told yes.

She went into a foster home, where they named her "Angel," but she didn't answer to that name, or anything else. She picked up enough weight in one week there to cover her ribs, though, and she started perking up.

Meanwhile, in Hampden Place, I followed all the adoptable dogs Donna posted on her Facebook page. Some were soooo cute! And others just seemed like too much effort if I wanted an actual dog. Working long hours and such, I needed to ensure any dog I got would be low maintenance and low energy. Kinda like me. :D

Did I really want a dog? Did I? I waffled for a bit, but then decided that adopting a rescue would be good for me, as well as for the dog. I am still depressed, and I need something to lift me out of myself, to force me to wake up on time and do things on a schedule. Cats are pretty time-agnostic. But a dog... a dog needs a human to care for it. Dogs are so dependent upon us! The more I thought about it, the more I realized a dog would help me more than therapy or perhaps even medication. All I need was the right dog.

And then, I met her. Donna told me if I wanted a dog to look at several before making a choice, but my heart melted completely for this poor, neglected scrap. She's a year-old (approximately) and has already had a litter of puppies. Where her pups went, who can say? I wouldn't be surprised if they died due to their mom's malnutrition.

Despite the rough life she led, she's a very sweet girl. Since she wasn't answering to Angel, I chirruped at her, "Kitty!" and she turned her head to look at me. Thus, I have a dog named Kitty, which confused the little boy down the street, and draws smiles from adults who think I'm crazy.

Well, I am. I've already spent about a thousand dollars on her gear and goods. She's gone from nothing but bread to Dog Chow to now the most expensive dog food in the world. :D She's got a lovely crate in which to repose (though she prefers the leather rug in the front room). She's started wagging her tail when she sees me, falling over herself to lick my hands and legs, little doggie kisses of gratitude for buying her kibbles, toys (that she doesn't know what to do with yet), obedience lessons, and soon, a spay!

The cats at Hampden Place are confused by the new arrival, who at 33 pounds, is three times as large as they are. But Kitty is patient and shy, and she lets them sniff her and run away. And she's learned that Melody is not to be approached lightly as she will swipe anything she's unsure of with the flying fickle paw of fate.

The nice thing about Kitty is how mellow she is, despite being so abused. She sleeps quite a bit (other than her first night, when she paced frantically; and then there was that run three blocks away to the Avenue while I ran desperately after her clutching her leash). A downside is she's not interested in learning how to sit or pay attention to me, but advice from the dog-lovers I know indicates she just needs time to realize she's safe with me, and no one will hit her, or starve her, or leave her tied to a box for days.

I already love her so much, and am so thankful she's kept me thinking about what she needs, pulling me more out of the nothingness which enveloped me for so long. We're rescuing each other, and I like that.