Dead Dog Walking

OK, time to interrupt this meander down memory lane for a confession.  I love people.  I love the smell of them, the taste of the warm salt on their skin, the warmth of their bodies near to mine, their touch on my fur.  I am a people dog.  People, people, people. Just love the people.  So this whole shelter thing turned out to be way better than first impressions. Because boy, were there a lot of people now.  People examining me, people feeding me, people cleaning my kennel, people taking me for little walks, and strangely, people shuffling by and staring at me through the bars. What was up with that?  The first day I gave so many kisses my tongue got chapped.  After awhile, I am thinking to myself this isn't so bad after all.  Although I could have used a blanket or two to keep out the Autumn chill.  Remember that, you people who have extra blankets.  Your shelter needs them!  Now back to me, a few days after arriving, I was abruptly taken out of my kennel and marched down the row of caged dogs, each with his own observation.  Too bad you're not a cute chihuahua like me! one snickered as if he knew something I didn't.  You should have been born a yellow lab, a yellow lab sighed.  Don't worry, they say it doesn't hurt, comforted a stocky pit bull with sad brown eyes. It'll be my turn soon, he added.  Turn for what? I wondered.