Tonight while watching TV, Leigh and I began to hear some whimpering and scratching on our door. We turned down the TV, made sure it wasn’t our three-year-old Beagle (it wasn’t; she was snoring contently under a blanket), and slowly opened our door. To our surprise two scruffy little puppies ran inside.
One is tan with a black mouth and short hair, and the other is gray and black and so fluffy that if he were able to stand still long enough you might confuse him for a child’s stuffed toy. They’re all paws and teeth and grunts. The tan one likes to nibble your fingers with his pointy little puppy teeth, and the gray one jumps and whines incessantly but falls to sleep immediately if you hold him.The tan one has a perfect little circle burned into his back left haunch. Leigh seems to think a cigarette probably caused the burn, and unfortunately I agree. The other one has some unidentifiable wounds around its neck which have begun to scab over. They were whining and crying when they ran in but the moment I picked them up in my arms they went silent”¦then they fell asleep.
Just so you know we live in an apartment complex next to a very busy street situated less than a block away from University hospital, and not out in the country somewhere. Whoever dropped these guys off didn’t give a damn if they got hit by a car or swallowed up by the city.
I walked around our complex and no one seems to know where they came from, so until we find them a home I guess we have two furry little house-guests.
I sincerely wish I could meet the heartless bastard who left these puppies to die. Preferably in a dark alley way. Just them and me and my sawed-off pool cue. We’d have ourselves a nice little chat.