Being a pure breed owner in Los Angeles was more like being target practice for rescuers. In my experience, rescuers treated pure breed owners like it was a crime to buy versus save. Nobody cared that I had allergies. Or that I didn't want a neurotic, skittish, was tied to a tree for a month, canine, that peed on me every time I pet him and shit on the floor when I made eye contact. Or -- and I love this one -- bit me for petting him incorrectly.
What did the mongrel do for an encore? Bite himself until he bled, or bang his head against the wall, but only the wall in the foyer. The one right across from the front door with a gaping imprint of his jacked head so my friends thought I was a dog beater.
Rescuers conversations were even more bewildering. "We don't know how old she is, but she's missing an eye and has cataracts in her good eye, poor thing. She's deaf and can't bark because someone severed her vocal chords. Isn't that awful?"
Evidently not -- You wanted the Helen Keller of Canines and that's what you got.
Hearing this, of course, set the other rescuer into, "I'm about to trump your rescue" mode.
"We got ours a year ago. So sad, the tumors jutting out of her mouth can't be removed. She's missing several teeth because of it, and her hind legs are lame. But how cute is she in her mini wheelchair? She's also got arthritis in her front legs and suffers from mange. But we love her."
Are you kidding me?! The Elephant Canine -- A dog that gives small children nightmares and makes adults lose their appetite. What a great addition to the family. I can't wait to see your annual holiday photo, featuring, Creepy-The-Canine.
It was as if rescuing the most impaled looking creature they could find became a status symbol. What was next; a black market for severely inbred canines with unheard of diseases and deformities that stumped vets? Or would pounds only accept bastards with disease, shock therapy treatment under their collar and, or, but not limited to, noticeable scarring, lesions and bulbous protrusions?
I never saw these seemingly philanthropic rescuers apply their philosophies to dating. I don't recall the last time I saw a personal ad that read, "SWF seeks blind diabetic with a lisp and one testicle. Those with sleep apnea, conspicuous neurosis and adjunct disorders preferred."
Or, "SWM seeks frumpy, grossly obese, ailing woman with bunions and stringy hair."
When rescuers learned that my dog was a pure breed, they'd go all sullen and judgmental. Repeating that THEIR dog was a RESCUE at least 50-times, wanting me to walk away cloaked in shame and guilt for slaughtering hundreds of perfectly loving dogs. Loving?! Seriously?!
Fortunately, the hopeless hound was, and still is conveniently located in every town USA, and free.
I still wonder what's next on the rescue trend wheel. Maybe some reproductive enthusiast will come up with a new breed earmarked for the rescue set, like, SNATS -- snakes breed with cats, or Alliots -- alligators breed with parrots.
Aside from me, what could possibly top a scaly, flying loud mouth?!