Sweet Pea, are you enjoying us?

I was on Facebook today when I caught the glimpse of something. It was a squishy, overweight, super-smooshed face'd English Bulldog in some random LA shelter. And what caught me wasn't the fact that the poor guy (or gal) looked completely defeated along with the hound that was next to him (or her). In a 6'x6' cage sat 2 dogs...lonely. Dropped off. Deserted. Maybe they needed care that just was too much. Maybe their owners fell on tough times. And there they were. In their concrete-slabbed cell with a gated doorway of sunlight.

Then the caption.

"Someplace in LA Kill Shelter"

Gasp. Tear. In my own mind, there's no such thing as kill shelters. There aren't dogs that are put down after 4 days of abandonment. Nope. They don't exist. Not in my world. Because I want to live in delusionality. I don't want to realize that there are freezers upon freezers of dogs (and other animals) that were ditched for one reason or another.

But it's true. There are.

Thankfully the English Bulldog was pulled out by Rescue. The hound too.

It makes me realize that yes, these animals are routinely disposed off because they've served their purpose or their purpose is too expensive. Then I (obviously) think about my own pooch.

Yesterday marked 11 months with our little family. I can't believe it's been that long since she had an awkward and over-enthused ride home from Orange County (good thing her taste isn't as extravagant as Gretchen's....bitch lives the low life here). I can't believe it, but I've wanted it nonetheless. The more months she gained with us, the more she trusted us. And the more she understood us, the more the household rules started to stick. She knows a certain voice means get your ass to your bed, now. She knows "bed time" means Oooohhhhh yea, Mr. Wookie is gone! Snuggle time!

But let's not pretend it's all roses. We adopted a non-friendly dog. She definitely voices her opinion of other dogs with her great, booming bark. She can be one vicious snatch. I had the bravery of taking her over to another squadron's house to acclimate their new puppy to the world outside "everyone thinks you're cute." Enter: This bitch of a Bulldog. She didn't like him from first sight. And she let him know that. But he learned to sit there, brush her off, and give her the cold shoulder. And when we walked away, she was like, Mom, really....you bring me to meet that weeny ass dog. I coulda had him. But I get it, let's walk now. Treats later?

And now she gets to have her first Christmas with us. I'm so excited about this - you have no idea! She's got her own lines on the Mrs. Wookie's super anal Christmas Excel spreadsheet of gifts, prices, total costs, and more. This time last year, she was stuck in a kennel. At a vet's office. Because there was no room at the Inn a foster's. It's hard to foster a non-friendly dog. But those days are long gone. No more supervised play time in the gated yard out behind the vet's. Now it's a door-open policy in our house (unless it drops below 60). In, out, playtime, naptime...whatever you want, you got it.

I can't wait to add a new Kong toy beneath the tree. Because I'm now the poor, sad soul who thinks pets should be represented under the Christmas tree. Baby Jesus, help me...