Siofra is the first dog that’s truly belonged to me. I adopted her when she was about a year old from Save the Animals Foundation (STAF), where I volunteered as a dog caretaker and adoption counselor.
She came to STAF in late 2002, an overly serious three-month old puppy, her face too big for her skull and her front legs skinned from elbow to wrist. She’d been found at a car wash and it was evident she’d been on her own for awhile, even for her short life. Her coat was matted and her skin scabbed. She’d been living on garbage, struggling to survive, abandoned. Yet, she did survive – despite the traumatic injuries to her legs.
I remember the first night I met her. I came in for my volunteer shift to take care of the dogs, and another volunteer intercepted me. She told me I had to come to the vet room and see this puppy because she seemed like the kind of dog I’d love.
Boy, was that volunteer right on the money. Continue reading “36 Hours is something like a 100 days in dog years.”