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I called Animal Care and Control on Monday and apprised them of the situation with the dog. Their standard response is to perform a "welfare check," which means they come by and check on the animal to make sure he's OK. I can't know for sure whether or not they did this, but I do know I've barely heard a peep from the dog since my call. I suppose that's a good thing.
Meanwhile, I have finally updated my Flickr account. If you have an hour to kill and feel like viewing FAR too many photos, click here. Or, just go to Flickr and do a people search for "awordsmith."
Just returned from Vegas, where we had an absolutely beautiful brunch to celebrate my grandmother's 80th birthday: 60+ people gathered in a lovely ballroom at a hotel near her home. It was just what the doctor ordered for her--being surrounded by people who love, respect and revere her (she is something of a celebrity in Vegas, having helped grow the local Holocaust survivors group tremendously and speaking at schools all over town). And, while she wasn't thrilled about attending in a wheelchair, she looked gorgeous and made a point to stand up at the mic to thank everyone for coming. It was glorious and I'm thrilled so many of our friends and family could make it.
Now I'm home and I'm completely distracted by the sad howling of a dog in the apartment next door. The little dog tends to bark quite a bit during the day, which I assumed he did because he missed his mommy while she was at work. Dogs are not cats--they don't revel in having the house to themselves all day.
Last week, I ran into another neighbor (one of those nosy-bodies who inexplicably seems to know everyone else's business). Michelle knows I live next door to the lonely dog and asked me if I'd been bothered by the his barking. She then informed me that the dog's owner was away for A MONTH and went on about what a crime it was to leave a dog alone like that. Of course, I agreed with her and my heart broke right then and there, on the stairwell, heaving in my chest like an anchor.
Michelle told me that another neighbor feeds and walks the dog once a day, putting to rest any notion of us calling Animal Care and Control to report animal cruelty. Despite what I believe (that no one who loves their pet would ever treat him so neglectfully and, face it, cruelly), the law would be on the neglectful dog owner's side so long as the animal is fed and looked after. In other words, there's no law against leaving your pet so lonely that he has now switched from barking incessantly to howling mournfully from loneliness.
I have wanted to intercept the neighbor who's taking care of the dog to see if I could maybe help ease the dog's loneliness, but I have yet to see him. Who knows how often he really comes? Is the poor dog forced to pee all over the tiny apartment? Meanwhile, I turn up my stereo when the poor dog howls because I find myself in tears if I pay too close attention. It's truly heart-wrenching for an animal lover to imagine even the slightest suffering of a furry creature, let alone one that must rely on humans for its every need (including companionship!).
I am told the girl will return next week and I'd like to leave her a note, but I'm torn. I would have to be fair and somehow restrain my bitchiness and blatant IRE at her for her neglect, yet keep in mind that her front door sits not 100 feet from mine and that I've never met nor seen her. In other words, I have to live with my words and I'm not sure how to go about expressing myself.
It's a tricky situation--diplomacy versus strong emotions. Any suggestions or advice would be welcome. I do plan to check with the staff at the SPCA shelter where I volunteer for any suggestions they may have about dealing with such a display of neglect.
I have welcomed 2008 with open arms, and so far, it has not disappointed. That is, with the exception of the near-relentless rain. And the 3-4 horrid previews I saw before a packed screening of There Will Be Blood the other night. (People were laughing. And none of the films was a comedy. Not a good sign.)
Despite the usual hectic pace and holiday travel woes (3-hour delays at Burbank Airport due to severe winds--not fun taking off in those, lemme tell ya), I very much enjoyed the final week of the year, capped by a quiet New Year's Eve watching classic old movies over pizza and wine with my honey. We even managed to stay awake until midnight, like young people do!
Meanwhile, Melody and Phoebe received more Christmas gifts than they know what to do with (especially considering their mom is Jewish!). As evidence, here's Mel, passed out after a vigorous play session with one of the mousy toys Jason's mother bought them:
Her eyes were closed until she heard me switch on the camera. At the same moment, Phoebe was passed out in front of the radiator in the cozy new bed their cat-sitter gave them. They can't quite share it (Phoebe's a bit on the plump side), so whoever's not lucky enough to have claimed the bed essentially stalks the one who has, waiting for her chance to sneak in and take it over.
So, the holidays are over and that flood of responses to my resume that I was expecting to begin January 2? Still waiting for it. Luckily, my freelance work is keeping me afloat, but it won't be long before Dire Straits, in my mind, isn't just a rock band. Frankly, I'm baffled by the whole mess--here I thought my resume was pretty diverse and impressive and yet, in spite of having sent it to upwards of 4 dozen companies, I'm starting to think I couldn't even get someone to read it if I sent it by carrier pigeon.
Better news soon, I hope. Either that or I'll start reporting on the joys of stocking shelves at Blockbuster. At least San Francisco's got the best minimum wage pay in the country. (See how I manage to find the positive in every situation?) But seriously... as adept as I am at recognizing and being grateful for the myriad blessings in my life, a steady paycheck with benefits (yes, I realize I'm a statistic--just another middle-class college grad with no health insurance) would make 2008 a whole lot sweeter, friends.