woof, woof >> josefa&trevor

[Deleted]

You know what really gets my goats? El Chupacabra. I raised those goats myself, so it's a horror story going out to the field and baring witness to the slaughter of my herd. There were 6 of them, 2 adults and 4 kids, and now I'm only down to three. Damn mutts got half my goats, this is getting ridiculous. It used to be that you'd hear about farm animals getting hunted once every few months, but this year seems to be something special. 

Checking my other stocks, all else I was missing was a single chicken. I'm not too sure how or where it went off to, but I can't risk losing much more. Winter is when I get my best sells on the market, with produce stalling and sparsing out, so I'm losing sleep over this problem. It isn't just the shelters, but my animals wandering off and winding up game off in the pasture. It's almost like they have a death wish, I swear. 

I ride a horse twenty minutes into town, almost losing my hat as we rear up near the center stables. Whenever I come out here, I always make sure I have my to do list ready to go - I hate having to pay for extended parking. I'm tight with my money, what can I say. 

At some point, I have to run by and get more fence wire and stakes, and a shotgun. I'll sit out there all night if I have to, standing watch with a shotty just waiting for the mutt that thinks it'll make a snack out of my goats again. I saw the shadow of a beast the other night, giant yet nimble, and the only thing I can imagine taking it down is some kind of firearm. 

I'll have to come back though, because first I head into the local dog shelter - my old girl's not much of a shepherd, and hard headed at that. 

"Hey!" I say, trying to muster up some of that southern hospitality everyone else seems to pick up naturally. "So I'm going to need your help with this. I need either a guard dog or a shepherd, my bills keep wandering off and winding up mutt food." Preferably a younger dog, though I hate to ask, "I'm not quite sure what breed would be best, any pointers?" 

[          J     O     S     E    F    A          ]

table by: z o e

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

I spent the night in the shelter. Not that I have any home issues - god, no. If anything, home is fine, it's the best it's ever been. It could be a bit warmer, though. The shelter isn't that warm either. But at least I have the dogs with me to keep me warm.

Lately, Honey has been a bit under the weather. I treat Honey as if she's my furry friend - mostly because I think I would adopt her. I can't though, because mom's got a light allergy to dogs. Not to the point that she'd go into anaphylactic shock, but with how much she sneezes after I get home, I figure it'd be damn near close. The poor woman would end up scratching the outer layer of skin off. Honey is also the staff pet, essentially, everyone adores her. So taking her home would be a bit selfish. Honey hasn't really been touching her food, she's been a bit sluggish. More sluggish than normal, at least. She's a pretty chill dog that would only move to get her food. But now she doesn't. It felt only right to stay with her for the night and make sure she's okay. The freezing concrete was worth it though.

The morning was met with a bunch of dogs that needed let out. I did it, did my normal shit with them. We have a rotation, that way we don't have the same person sit and try to feed peanut butter-covered pills to dogs for three hours every day. Luckily, today was not my day. Today was desk day for me.

In walks in a woman, it seems in search for a pup. "Hey!" She speaks, hinting some southern hospitality. "So I'm going to need your help with this. I need either a guard dog or a shepherd, my bills keep wandering off and winding up mutt food." I give a nnod to the woman - my mind immediately in work mode. Well, we don't have too many herding dogs. They tend to fly out of the door in a district like this. "I'm not quite sure what breed would be best, any pointers?" Well, it all depends on the size, too. We don't have many larger herding dogs. Most of our herding dogs are medium, or smaller, they just have a loud bark.

"Well, it depends what size you want." I lean on the counter, resting my weight on my arms. "If you want a larger one, we've got more guard dogs than herding. We have all sorts of smaller ones, though." I give a shrug, realizing that smaller dogs are harder to consider much of a herding animal. "Not many people think a little dog that hardly passes your shins a herding dog - but they can sure as hell do it." Sometimes it depends on who the owner is, too. Connection is everything with animals - even if they are just for work.

"If anything, you can come on back and see if any fit your fancy?" If anything, she might just take one for the road. Who knows.


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Truth be told, I'm weak for dogs. I can't help it, the only pet my cultish parents let me have growing up was an old bermese we named Bermy. Yeah, yeah, great name, I know - look, I didn't name her. She was a good dog though, she wasn't allowed on the bed or couches but late at night I'd sneak her into my room and cuddle with her on the floor. That old lass lasted 16 years, and honestly I aspire to be that. Even if it's only spite keeping me alive, I want to die as old as I possibly can, just like old Bermy. 

The worker brings up guard dogs, and my ears perk up a little bit. Thinking about it, I only have three damn goats left, do I really need a shepherd, or do I need a guard dog? I'm picturing a big pitbull or doberman with its gnarly teeth, and that sounds right up my alley! Ain't no bears going to get my goats or my chickens with one of those guys hanging around, but then he brings up small dogs and my heart just weeps a little. How cute would a dachshund be? I couldn't handle it. 

I think on it as the dog handler continues, "if anything, you can come on back and see if any fit your fancy?"

"Oh, that sounds perfect," this is going to be a very good day. This might have been a bad idea, I don't know how easily I can resist bringing several of these dogs back with me, but with the week I've been having, I need this. I leave my work jacket on a hook before following behind him, and sure enough there are cages and cages of pups waiting for us.

So this is the point I need to make my mind up, while the handler unlocks the gate leading to all these bad boys. And honestly: I don't know! My brain's telling me big old guard dog, my soul's saying any bermese will do, but my heart's telling me I need a crazy ass small dog. "I think," ugh, I don't know though, "show me the guard dogs first, I think, the big ones."

Gotta think of the goats on this one. 

[          J     O     S     E    F    A          ]

table by: z o e

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

I can sense a dog person when I see one. It's like a sensory thing. A vibe. If someone's coming out of their way just in search of a guard dog, they're more business oriented. Straight to the point. Know what they want. Sometimes they want some guidance about which breed. Sure, the occasional person doesn't know, but they don't show as much excitement for dogs if they're figuring it out. It's like a baby who's learning to talk. They're trying to figure it out. But once that baby knows how to say "NO", good lord, have mercy.

Luckily, I didn't have Sammie here to distract me today. She's been out lately. Focusing on other stuff, as if the shelter didn't raise her. I guess it's something with her grandmother again. But something tells me she's trying to leave. Sure, a dog shelter won't be forever. But why not? What do other places provide that I - ah, forget it.

The dog-searcher interrupts my Sammieism. "Oh, that sounds perfect," and we head out into the actual pound. A gate lifted, and a hanger presented a resting place for her coat. Stepping into the room washes one's ears with the chorus of barks. It's chaotic and even overwhelming at first for new ears. But it's not the worst to hear for someone who sleeps in these cages. There are a few beats as we stand there. I don't know where she wants to go first, and I don't want to take her on the scenic route of dogs. That's for later.

It's like that fancy little market that makes you go in a certain line. You follow through the corridors of vegetables, meats, dairy, and other market goods, saving the better items for last. The ones that give you those quick doses of happiness. They're cheap, too, so you can't resist throwing a few extra snacks in the bin. "I think," pause, as she ponders her options. "Show me the guard dogs first, I think, the big ones."

I provide a reassuring smile. There's no hating what a girl wants! If anything, it's spiritual. You and the dog both know when the time is right. "Great! Follow me this way." I lead her down a few openings, the dogs getting relatively bigger as we pass each shortened hall. Dogs bark, and some dash toward the cage door at the sight of a new face. They know that somepuppy is getting out of there. "These right here are our bigger breeds. I'd go with a Bullmastiff if anything" I offer my hand toward a cage that holds one of our mastiffs. It's got that bull doggy face but that mastiff build. "If you want something softer but still gets the job done, we've got some furry pals too." I take a few steps down, and some form of mountain dog - Estrela or something - is on the left. "Of course, you can look around, too. Find if any of them connect with you." A key dangles from my finger as I pull out the ring. "You can play with as many or as few as you want." Normally, we don't allow it, but I feel like seeing a smile today.

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"Great, follow me this way!"

"Perfect," I say, almost deviously. 

I'm going to pet so many dogs, it's a good thing I don't wear make up or I'm sure I'd be leaving here a mess with all the dog kisses I'm about to get. This may not be a petting zoo but it sure scratches the same itch, and my heart swells seeing so many adorable pups in their cages. Almost all of them perk up, jumping and barking and shaking for attention, I can't help cooing at the smaller babies. I can't, I can't, my head says, but my heart says you totally can take home 20 dogs right now. I mean, really, what mutt is gonna come around again knowing there's a swarm of ankle biters waiting to fuck them up? 

We make it to the bigger breeds without stopping once, and I'm almost impressed. There was a moment I paused to let a chihuahua nibble on my fingers through the gated link cage in secret, a pretty little girl with snow white fur and black mittens. Stop, it was so cute I'm going to fucking die. He takes me to a cage with two bullmastiffs, a larger dog with a squishy, wrinkly face. I kneel to them on eye level, the warm smell of dog greeting me as the specialist gives me advice on how to pick a hound out. Only one of them gets up to greet me, a chocolate brown with a fat, wet nose, aggressively sniffing in my direction. The second is a tan guy, the color of sandpaper and work khaki's, snoring in his sleep as if I'm not even in the room. 

He offers to show me some others, but I fear if I make eye contact with one more dog I'll wind up a pooch-mother of eight. 

"So can I see these guys?" I look up at the boy helping me out, and sure enough he takes out a wad of keys, flipping the right one and unlocking the gate. The chocolate bull backs up patiently, the sleeping dog lifting his head lazily at the sound of the door opening. Within seconds I'm in the center of the cage, bathing in puppy kisses and giggling as they lick my cheeks. This is it, man, how can you be mad at a time like this? It takes me a second before I can peel them off of me and get back to my feet, straightening myself out once I do. "Tell me more about these two, have they had any homes before?" 

[          J     O     S     E    F    A          ]

table by: z o e

[marcellus rhodes 11b arc]

"So can I see these guys?" Damn right you can. Who am I to deny a girl of a dog? So, the keys come out. We have too many damn keys in this building, but we color-coordinated them slightly. Each "size" of dog has a different color. So the super tiny dogs have a little blue dot on their key. The medium ones had yellow. The larger ones with red. After that, it's going off of your best guess. So, I guess I got lucky when the first key I tried gave way. The client steps in and she's pretty quickly engulfed by dogs in her face. She's enjoying herself, and maybe that's all I need today. Sure, adoption would be great. These guys need homes. But an animal is free therapy, almost.

She soon gets up, lightly dusting herself off before she speaks up again. Right. Business. "Tell me more about these two, have they had any homes before?" Well, shoot. I don't have the rundown on each pup, but I know those two came in relatively close. "Well, the more sleepy one has been here a bit longer. Maybe a month. We don't know where he came from." I always felt bad for that pup, the sleepy, khaki-color leaves little excitement. Let alone his constantly sleepy state. He's an easy dog, if she wants easy. But she wants work. "Other one came from a family who couldn't afford as many dogs, and I guess she got the chop. They decided to bring her here." I also feel for her; it must suck to be just not enough. "She probably has the most 'time' in a home." Half of the time, guard dogs tend to sleep outside anyway.

"I'm Trevor, by the way." We don't have name tags, but if we get personable, she might take both. "What's your name? I should have asked." I offer my hand with a smile. Typically, we wait until they're leaving to ask for names. That way, the owners can cold call them and ask if they're still looking. But I don't do that shit - it's too business-like on abandoned dogs' lives. They want a home, not a charity.