Pierogi is the newest member of our household. She’s a sweet little mutt (the vet disagrees with the shelter about what breeds are in her mix, but Corgi, lab, and Chihuahua have been mentioned) and is a little over a year old. I took her photo when she was still woozy from surgery, just before we brought her home. Now that she has energy, she hides from the camera (the ‘click’ sound makes her nervous).
We found her at the animal shelter, where she’d been living since February. She was found in the field without tags by animal control. She’d wandered into a daycare center, where I’m sure the little ones just loved her. She is very mellow and friendly, though she’s nervous around tall men or other dogs.
We visited the shelter just to check it out, and she won us over. We took her to an outdoor meet-and-greet area surrounded by fencing. There was another dog in the next pen, and when he left the area Pierogi wanted to join him. She headed for the gate, tried to squeeze through the posts…and promptly got her head stuck. She couldn’t back up, couldn’t go forward, but her tail kept wagging and she was pretty calm. I tried to push her head down to an area that might allow her to get free, but she was resistant. Since I’d known her for about 30 seconds, I thought it might be best to have a staff member help us so she wouldn’t bite me. M scaled a six-foot fence to get help. Just before he returned with a staff member, I was able to coax her to bend down and get free.
“The dog who gets her head stuck in the fence is the dog for me,” M chuckled.
We spent some more time with her, realized that she is a friendly, mild-mannered pooch, and decided she would be ours. We filled out paperwork and headed to the desk to pay the fees. At the desk, they informed us excitedly that in the system she was marked as a “Mayflower dog.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means she’s free!”
So for an $8 license fee, we had our first dog! She’d been there so long, and time was likely running out for her. So we handed her over to the shelter staff, who took her to the clinic to be fixed. Getting her home was an adventure involving an unnecessary seven-mile walk (Google Maps can be slightly inaccurate here in the desert) to get a rental car so that I could pick her up by 5. Otherwise she’d have been left alone in a kennel at the clinic while recovering from surgery. It was a stressful day or so for all of us.