Here we are with two of my favorite dogs from this week's walk over at the Humane Society. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, see my earlier post, Walking the Talk.)
First we've got Maggie Mae, some sort of pug mix. (One of the unending wonders of volunteering at the shelter is the array of dog breeds, and combinations thereof, I get to meet.) I predict a quick adoption for her -- she's small (that seems to increase adoptability ten-fold) and a wriggly sort of cuddler on first meeting. Pretty irresistible.
This whole matter of who gets adopted and when is like an ongoing soap opera. It does restore my faith in humanity somewhat to see that most every dog -- no matter how old, shy (we're talking some who hide in a corner and refuse to take walks outside the building of longer than a half block), medically needy (missing an eye or deaf), or just plain odd looking -- eventually seems to find a human who thinks it's a perfect match.
And now for Fawn, who shouldn't take long to place, either. If it's true what they say about people picking dogs who look like them, I expect Fawn to be chosen by someone who wears a lot of eye liner. But they'll also appreciate her near-perfect leash obedience (I sure did).