How's it goin'?

Oh, it's...goin', I guess. I've kind of been in an "I hate the world" mood the last few days. You know, one of those "why do these things only happen to me and why am I the only one who cares" kind of moods.

So yes, the stray dog is still with me. I sent out a desperate email plea for help to most of my address book, and, typically, got only one response, but it was from one of my cat lady friends who ALWAYS responds, God bless her, and while she couldn't provide a home or foster home, she did arrange to have the animal rescue group she currently works with provide a few days of boarding and his initial medical care. And it looks like we'll be able to "advertise" him on their website, and maybe show him at petstores on the weekends, once he's up to it. And all I have to do is find a foster home for him. So he's living in a cage in my garage for the time being. My un-air-conditioned garage. I put a fan out there, and at the moment it's tolerable, but I really will have to make other plans if true summer temperatures ever arrive.

He had sarcoptic mange and hookworms, in addition to being malnourished, but he seems to be recovering nicely. He's really a very good dog, not too barky, very calm in his cage, but, as I feared, all has not gone well with him and Dolly and McBeady. Dolly has just made herself scarce, sensing his presence, I guess. Poor McBeady, who had just arrived back home from a four-day adventure somewhere, managed to get himself chased out of the yard, despite my best efforts to only let the puppy out after checking the yard for cats. Poor McBeady. I feel terrible. I did manage to get him to come into the side yard to eat after, but knowing how easily his trust is damaged, I'm worried that this has set our relationship back once again. Sigh. (Food has been disappearing under cover of darkness, so hopefully the kitties aren't suffering too much physically while we all adjust.)

And, of course, my plans to eventually try to introduce him to the inside cats may now never come to fruition. Can't have a cat chaser inside. Just can't. Sigh again. On the plus side, he does get along with Pudge, and they've even begun to play a little. We'll just take one day at a time, I guess. What else can I do? I'm just irritated that out of all the "animal lovers" I know, there doesn't seem to be one person willing to help. (Actually, there may be one, but she's got some things to figure out first, and, knowing what she's dealing with, she totally gets a pass if she can't.) I know--I'm the one who found him, and I could have just taken him to the shelter, but he wouldn't have lasted past the obligatory three days in his current state. I hate to see a sweet dog condemned so quickly. And, damn it! I currently have more rescued pets than most people will have in a lifetime--somebody else step up!

Okay, I'll stop whining. I'm just tired, and a little discouraged. (Adding to my worries is the fact that my cat Rover seems to not be well again. No diarrhea this time. No, now he's throwing up occasionally, and he seems to have lost the half-pound he just put back on. So I have to figure out a time to get him back to the vet.) I guess I just need to turn the "it's always something" despair into "it will all work out" optimism. I'll get to work on that. In the meantime, though, you might not want to be the next person to tell me how rewarded I'll be for all this in my next life. Phooey! I want some reward in THIS life. Aside from the puppy and kitty kisses, that is. Which are sweet, and all, but come on, universe...how 'bout a little something extra for your girl here?

Tomorrow---maybe a "name the stray" contest. We have to do better than "Stinky."