Dogs: Funny Side Up!

IntroductionThe lamb in line in front of me edged ever closer to the time clock. It had been another long day at Best Friends’ Dogtown. The next thirty seconds would be interminable. Heat and exhaustion had taken it’s toll on my perception of time. A bra full of dog hair and desert sand did nothing for my disposition.On the floor below the time clock sat a box containing complimentary employee copies of the latest issue of Best Friends Magazine. Just as it was his turn to log out, the lamb froze. He glanced down intot he box and began to browse through a magazine -with his tongue.Exasperated by this inconsiderate blockade, I sighed with audible disgust and reached past. The little lamb glanced up at me sheepishly. My workday ended as it had begun. With a few pushes of the time clock’s buttons my precious introvert’s sovereignty was regained.A long walk across the parking lot brought freedom from the military-like regiment of working at Dogtown’s Lodges. An eternity had passed since the peaceful bliss of cool morning walks with the Lodge area dogs. Feeding, sweeping, hauling water, poop scooping, scrubbing pools and the occasional chasing of a rattlesnake had all lost their usual thrill amid the sweltering, hundred plus degree temps of southern Utah’s desert.It was not until I arrived home, not until I powerwashed away the layers of sand and dog hair sweat had adhered to my body that my mind began to unwind. Wait a second! Something was amiss.
Suddenly, it occurred to me. That little lamb could never have actually signed out on a time clock. What was I thinking? He was too short. He’d never reach the buttons.Fact is, it was probably slightly odd to have hoof stock in line in the first place. Was he on staff? I heard we were looking for a new dog trainer. Must be in charge of shepherds and sheepdogs, I deduced. Yea,
that must be it. My Mamma didn’t raise no dummy. Harnessing up my own dogs for evening walks, the circle of my life continued.The bizarre becomes commonplace when you work with animals. Best Friends Animal Society was no exception. A Blue and Gold Macaw would be dining alfresco, perched majestically upon the steering wheel of a rickety old golf cart, yet the staff would walk past without skipping a beat. When I spotted a toy poodle and another little critter walking on leash together through Dogtown’s parking lot, my initial thought was, “That terrier has the worst shave-down I’ve ever seen. Is the groomer on vacation?”When I realized I was actually watching a poodle and a tiny, goat being exercised together, I felt stupid. Of course it was a baby goat. Aren’t they all leashtrained? Whew! Everything was normal again. Perhaps I spent too much of my youth in Sturgis, but a potbellied pig in a Harley shirt and skull cap did not even rate a second glance anymore. Ho hum.Prior to Best Friends, I’d been rescuing animals in Northern Thailand. Unlike the sanctuary, hope for animals in Southeast Asia was fleeting. There was no money for such misguided indulgences as animal rescuing. To spay and neuter is uncommon in Buddhist society; suffering, mange and starvation are not.Perhaps it was necessary for sanity, but in Thailand I continually managed to find something to laugh about. Good language barriers and catastrophic travel disasters are like nitrous oxide to me. Toss in monks, puppies and the bizarre scenarios rescuers unwittingly stumble into on a daily basis, and a satire...