Another Shaggy Dog Story...

“Hi! Oof - welcome! I’m Susan.” the harassed looking shelter volunteer greets me, the swing door she has just burst through clipping her hip as she pauses to greet me. “Sorry, bit short staffed today so I don’t have time to take you round. Follow me and I’ll show you the dog pens. Take a look around and I will catch up with you.” Without waiting for a response, she taps a number into the lock key pad beside the door and scurries through.

Slightly bewildered, I squeeze round the desk, only just catching the door before it locks behind her. She is already out of sight by this time, so I follow the sound of her footsteps, still clutching the bundle of blankets and dog paraphernalia I had intended to donation. All I can hear now is the discordant canine chorus of the resident dogs calling out for attention. Unsure which way to go, I take the first turn on my left as it seems a little quieter and calmer down there.

“Go on, keep walking. That’s right, pretend you don’t see me.”

I pause, look around, try to find the source of the petulant voice.

“Oh so you do hear me! Don’t want to look though do you? No-one wants to look at the scruffy one, do they?” the voice whines on. “No, everyone wants the cutesy looking dogs, little fur babies they can dress up in ridiculous outfits or carry around like a fashion statement.”

Amused and intrigued, I retrace my steps and stop in front of a dimly lit pen that I had – wrongly – assumed was vacant.

“Come on then, show yourself” I say, matching the combative tone of the disembodied voice. “Or are you all bark? Bet I’m not the first one you have tried this routine on, am I?” A faint shuffling, rustling sound emanates from the rear of the pen, and possibly the ugliest creature I have ever seen lumbers out of the shadows. Over-long, gangling legs sprouting from a body that, whilst not quite emaciated, is still desperately under-fed, with angry scars criss-crossing between unruly tufts of fur. Although stumpy, his tail still manages to create the impression of dangling listlessly between his legs.

“You’re staring now. Stop it!” he orders, trying – and failing – to look fierce. I can’t help myself; I burst out laughing. His head drops and he shuffles back into the safety of the shadows, and I instantly feel guilty. Dropping the blankets, I sit down so we can talk eye to eye.

“No, don’t go, we’re only just getting to know each other. Please stay. I promise not to laugh at you again.”

“Ever?” he replies, a hopeful note in his voice

“Well…” I begin, and Rover starts to slink away again.

“Oh, come back you stroppy creature! I can’t promise never to laugh at you again – how about I promise never to laugh at how you look?”

“You calling me funny looking? Not exactly an oil painting yourself, are you?”

“I.., I mean, you… you look…” I stutter.

“Judging books by their covers, are we?” comes the snarky reply.

Exasperated at how quickly this has got out of hand, I take a moment to think. “How about we start again? Maybe some introductions and see how we get on from there? I’m Laura.”

“They call me Rover.”

“Hmmm, not exactly original, is it?”

“Pretty insensitive if you ask me – was a Rover that hit me.”

Stifling a giggle so as not to offend him again, I move closer and take a proper look. Close up I can see that the patchy fur is the result of the extensive surgeries he must have undergone to acquire all those vicious looking scars. Unfortunately, the intact fur and patchy regrowth just draws attention to them.

“Here, you must be cold” I say as I pass a blanket through the bars to Rover, and my heart melts when he shuffles closer so I can drape it over him. As I stroke his head he begin to relax, and I can see that he isn’t much more than a puppy, and with proper food to fatten him up and give his body a chance to catch up with those comically long legs he could be a good looking dog.

“So you going to give me some of those treats then?” he looks at me pleadingly, and I waver, unsure if I should feed him or not. “Or are you one of them mad women who eat dogfood?” he continues. Yep, food and care can turn him into an attractive animal, but only if his owner can put up with that attitude!

“Ah, there you are! Thought you were behind me then I got distracted by a brawl in the puppy enclosure” calls out Susan as she bustles towards us. At the sound of her voice Rover tries to shrink out of sight, but I continue to stroke him and he relaxes a little and snuggles as close as the bars will allow. “Oh, good boy, Rover! Rover want a treat?” Rover rolls his eyes at me, but plays along and sits up and accepts the treat and pat on the head. “Never even thought of showing you Rover. Most people think he is just too ugly” Susan says in a stage whisper, oblivious to the fact Rover can not only hear but also understand her.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to adopt - at least not today - but I think Rover and I understand each other, don’t we?” Rover replies with a wet lick across my face, then when the pen is unlocked stays glued to my side whilst I sign the paperwork. In the car park he freezes as I approach my car, and only moves when he realises mine is the car next to the rover in the staff parking space.