I'm sitting here watching Russell-of-the-
pornographic-tongue lick the remnants from
a jar of peanut butter. Next to him in my
second dog crate, lies my redbone napping.
The collie mix and the pyrenees rule my back
fences.
My American Eskimo has his own pen, he doesn't
like my other dogs. Buddy the doomer dawg
sleeps in a catbox turned dog house on my
front porch.
And now a seventh dog has been dumped. It's
a girl, cowering and shivering and begging
for scraps of food and love.
Sheesh. Why can't folks take care of their own
problems instead of bringing them to my door?
I can barely afford to feed my own, let alone
take on anymore.
Seriously.
~M
