notes from
the MUCK . . .

How does your garden grow? With muck, muck and more muck! I spent much of today finishing the final muck box and then shifting muck from one box to the next. The first box, which the Big Lad is enthusiastically pointing out, has been rotting down for two years now and once we’d removed the top quarter of unrotted material, we found we’d hit the pay dirt.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Have a Heart


They hosted the World's Ugliest Dog competition recently, and this dog won. It is an ugly dog, but it got me thinking about another ugly dog I saw on a dog rescue page whose plight is sadder because his ugliness is not so in your face, is one that will cause others to pass him by with a shudder rather to to plant a rosette on his mis-shapen body.




What a poor bugger. I think of him brushing hair for the photo, of staying up into the early hours perfecting the perfect stance, angling his snub nose in such a way that it shows off his best side to the camera and potential new homes. I often think of this little dog and his quest to find a home; a daily running regime, going over his favourite tricks: giving his paw on command, rolling over, even walking backwards. I think of his life story that bought him to be re homed, of his daily routine, going for walks and being the one children didn't pet, how awkward and ugly he would've looked taking a dump, the silent discussions his family had about not being able to look after him anymore while he sat on his favourite cushion and licked himself oblivious to the peril that lay before him. I think of how the other dog's reacted to his arrival at the rescue centre, looks of derision, pity, mock wolf whistles filling the air, and a brief, forced, bottom sniff from his kennel mate.

Most of all I think of his nights, waking up to the soft predictable shock of seeing his reflection blinking back at him from the window of his kennel. His pudgy asymmetrical chest deflating as the pain of the previous day's numerous rejections moisten his eyes to match his wrinkled, upturned nose.

I hope he's found his home, I hope he's been noticed for more than his ugliness, I hope he's happy and I hope his home is without mirrors. Most of all, I hope he hasn't had to learn to beg.

Labels: