The really sad part is the Wisconsin Humane Society or any veterinarian would try to work something out cheap/free, if you take the time to call and ask, just to end the dog's suffering as kindly as possible.
This sucks, too.
Every morning about 4:30 I tell Satan's Little Helper I'm going to sell him to a tennis racket factory if he doesn't knock off the !#*^% pouncing and meowing and let me sleep, but seriously, this close to Halloween we don't even go outside with the leash (we don't really "walk"; I follow along as he investigates the hedge and yank him back when he runs toward the street), in case he gets away and ends up in the hands of assholes.
And I should not have looked at the WHS's available cats. There's a fine line between "old maid with cat" and "ammonia-scented crazy cat woman" I'm trying to avoid crossing.
What I put up with around here...
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