Posted on August 04, 2011 by: WayCoolDogs

I noticed her first because of her yelp – well, it was more of a yip than a yelp. I would pass the cage (one of the darker ones, so if a dark coloured dog was in residence it was not easy to make him out) and this little, hopeful sound would issue forth.  When I opened up and peered inside, a charming, earnest little face looked up, and I could swear she smiled at me. I was hooked.

Outside, she lost no time in thanking me for the walk. She stayed right up close to my left leg and looked at me so often that sometimes she would walk right into a flower bed or a bush instead of around it.  Basically, her fur was brown and there was a distinct ridge down her back.  But on either side of the brown ridge, as if someone had deliberately formed a part, the fur was dark grey.  The grey extended on both sides right down under her belly, and to top it all, the grey fur was much shorter, as if newly grown.

It was a puzzle.

I debated whether if someone had doused her with some kind of chemical and burnt the fur off, with the new growth being a different colour, but then why would someone take the trouble to do both sides and leave out the ridge along the top?  Her whole demeanour was not that of an abused dog.  She was very happy, delighted with life in fact. It occurred to me that she might have contracted some kind of infection, but something as uniform as that on both flanks seemed illogical.

Finally I gave up trying to work it out and decided to just enjoy the time we had.  Each day as I arrived I would hear her modest little yip yip, and as I reached inside the cage she would nuzzle my hand and wait for the leash to be placed around her neck before stepping daintily outside (most dogs are so excited that I have to be careful to get the leash on before letting them out or I would have a problem catching up with them).

Reba was delighted with everything, the sunshine, the fresh air, the freedom, and the whole idea of being out for a walk.  She positively pranced along, as if she was dancing across the gravel, and occasionally it would look as if she was being careful where to place her feet, but most of the time she wasn’t really concentrating on where she was going – she was simply going.

When I came to a halt, she stopped immediately, sat down, and since she was usually a little in front of me, she would twist her little head around, with the ears flattened in subjection, just in case she had done something wrong, and look at me anxiously.  I couldn’t resist rubbing her head, and after a while she came to realize that stopping didn’t necessarily mean there was a problem, but she would still sit and twist her head around to look at me, although by this time the worry would be gone from her face, and she would wait eagerly for her head to be rubbed.

She also loved to have her chin rubbed, and her tummy tickled.

She wasn’t a pretty dog, but absolutely charming, and for some reason everyone warmed to her. She just had that something special in her demeanour, and for weeks after she was adopted staff members were still asking me what happened to that cute dog I used to walk.  I hope she’s getting her tummy tickled.

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Guest Post by Cindi Scholefield, a volunteer at the local animal shelter in Kingston, Jamaica. For any donations to Cindi and her dogs, please send to:
Eunice Crompton-Nicholas
c/o
Harry Dufour
9330 Dunhill Drive
Miramar
Florida 33025-3869

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