Life at № 42 by E.M. Coutinho
I’ve cut away most of her matted fur and she’s had a bath. She arrived Tuesday evening because things got delayed at the shelter. The night was peaceful but she was incredibly scared at first. She’s definitely never lived in a house or with people at all. Her enclosure at the shelter was 3.5 x 1.5 metres, so she was used to spending much of the day laying down. She wasn’t terribly interested in everything I’d prepared in the hall and has instead found a corner of the red room which she seems to like. We’re taking her outside for a couple of laps around the whole perimeter of the garden every hour or so to get her used to doing her business outside only. Feral dogs all have their complications, but I’m hopeful. Oh, and she refused to eat most of the day yesterday, but expecting that might happen I’d boiled a chicken, shredded the meat and kept the stock, and so she when Mike offered her that last night she gave in.
And here’s Bessie and Tara, a long time ago.