The Greatest Place on Earth

I'm obsessed with dogs. Obsessed.

My friend Heather is obsessed with cats. Arguably even more so than I am with dogs. She's nuts.

So today after class we decided to trek on out to West Columbia (gross) and spend some time at the greatest place on earth, a.k.a.....Pets, Inc.

Pets, Inc. is your typical little dog and cat adoption establishment. Heather wanted to bee-line it to the cat room when we got there, but I made her investigate the puppy/dog situation outside first before we went in.

And that's when I met Wilma.

The I.D. paper attached to her enclosure said "Wilma: 9 years old. Terrier." (Pause here to rhetorically ask what kind of heartless bastard abandons a dog they have had for 9 years?)

Wilma had a lot of things working against her. Obviously she had been owned by some kind of craptastic family to land her in adoption-land, she was making one of the most horrible noises I've ever heard come out of a creature of the canine variety, she was 9 years old (not exactly a top-of-the-lister for potential adopters), OH--and she was UGLY. AS. SIN.

She kinda looked like a black, furry Salacious Crumb.



She kinda looked one of those weird ass beasts from The Dark Crystal.


She kinda looked like Splinter from TMNT.


You get the point.

But I thought Wilma looked spunky; like she had character. I went over to her cage and she was practically clawing her way up the chain link to get to me. Wilma was flippin' excited.

I picked her up and she settled right in like I had been her owner for all of her 9 years. I turned into a big ball of mush for this horrible-looking, sweet as molasses little creature. She was so pathetic I almost couldn't stand it.

I would've gone home with Wilma today if Heather hadn't finally pried me away from her cage. I mean, the dog is 9 years old, it's not like it would be a long term commitment. In all morbid honesty, she's got, what, maybe 2 or 3 good years left in her?

And she has a sweet ass name already. And she looked like she was bursting with the potential to hunt and eat roaches. And I could enter her into "World's Ugliest Dog" competitions and win 1st prize.

I'm really hoping Suz reads this and tells me she thinks it's a good idea for me to skedaddle back over to Pets, Inc. and scoop Wilma up. I have no doubts that she would still be there if I went back tomorrow. Nobody wants to adopt the sorry little excuse for a dog that I'm about to introduce to you in the pictures I took of her while I was there.

Except me. What can I say? I have a soft spot for freaks.