I thought about ranting about the lowlife who dumped a helpless, unhealthy puppy at my mailbox this afternoon.  I realize, though, that the people who understand how vile of an act that is don’t need to be preached to, and the scum buckets who carelessly abandon animals don’t really care how upset I get over it.

So I’ll let sleeping dogs lie on that subject…at least for today.  Even though the sleeping dog is unable to stand, is covered in fleas and bloody scabs from all the bites, and has a giant extended belly from the intestinal worms, I’ll go ahead and let it lie.

Next subject.

I have wonderful friends.  Tonight, as I was sharing photos of Annabelle (the name Steve christened the abandoned Beagle with), many people made kind statements about my big heart, and what an angel I am, and how lucky Annabelle is to have found our house.

Bull hockey.  Or is it horse pucky?  Maybe just a crock of crap.

I pulled in to the driveway tonight about 6:30 after a long day that had started 14 hours earlier.  Since it would have been impossible to not see the immobile dog sprawled out next to my mailbox, front paws on the road, I assumed said pup was not there when my husband arrived home just a few minutes before I did.

I approached the little Beagle slowly, not wanting her to bolt into the road.  Not to worry, she was in no condition to “bolt”.  Or walk.  She couldn’t even stand up without tipping over.  Oh, goody.

I was not an angel at this moment.  I was pissed off.  Not at the dog, of course, but certainly at the situation.  I already had 2 stray cats that had shown up in the past couple of weeks, one of them being extremely young, in poor health, and needing a fair amount of rehab work.

So, the first thought that came out of the big hearted angel (Yours Truly), was not exactly reminiscent of St. Francis of Assissi.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Pick up the dog.  She’s lethargic.

“I need more vet bills like I need a hole in my head.”

She’s covered in fleas.

“I am not bringing this flea ridden animal into my house.”

Her belly is hugely extended.  Worms, no doubt.

“I am not doing this.  I have 3 dogs and a sick kitten.”

She cannot stand.  She’s completely head shy.

“Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit.”

“I just want to eat dinner and watch Big Bang Theory.”

I ring the doorbell, which I never do.  I don’t want to walk in with this puppy, because the other dogs will be jumping and carrying on, and I don’t know if she’s sick.

Steve opens the door and says “No f*@#%ing way.  Are you kidding me?”

He’s angry too.  Not at me, of course, and not at the puppy.  He’s ticked off at the situation.  Thank God I married a man who is so in sync with me.

I’m no angel, and Annabelle could have landed a much better mailbox to be abandoned at.   We will do our best to get her healthy and into a good home…..a different home. ( I am *not* keeping this dog.)  I am going to cuss and complain about flea bombing my house, and the chunk of change I’ll be dropping at the animal supply store and veterinary office.  Just don’t confuse me with a kind hearted hero.  I’m doing what I believe is the right thing, but I’m doing it in an annoyed state, not with a warm and fuzzy heart.

On the bright side, at least I won’t break an ankle from falling off a pedestal.

Annabelle