No one ever called to retrieve the stray dog. One guy called to see if I’d found a basset—a pair had escaped from his friends’ yard. That was it.
Pretty clearly she was dumped in the park, probably because the humans couldn’t abide having their carpets peed on every 10 to 20 minutes. Or couldn’t afford the vet bills to treat what may very well have been diabetes.
Neither, alas, can I. Even if her problem was only (!) a urinary tract infection, at this point I can’t afford a vet bill for that, either. Nor, with a possible long-term disability coming up the pike, can I care for a large dog…I may not even be able to care for the little dog.
When I called the Humane Society to see if they could scan her for a microchip, they refused to speak to me—as it develops, they don’t deal with stray animals. There’s actually a state law that forbids the Humane Society from taking in strays! The instant I said I’d found her in the park I was transferred to County Animal Control, with no further discussion. The county pound, it develops further, is now a no-kill shelter. That’s why they have 900 animals for which they can find no homes.
The County sent a guy out to pick up the pooch. To my surprise, he didn’t act like a comic-book dogcatcher. He was very kind, and it was obvious that he loved animals. He said they would examine and treat the dog for whatever ailed her, and that the first thing they’d do is scan her for a microchip and try to find her owners.
So, at least they won’t put her down summarily.