It was one year ago today that I walked into the RASKC shelter and met a little tripod of unknown heritage. He’d been in some kind of accident, probably hit by a car, and they’d had to amputate his leg. His belly was one big ugly bruise, all red and purple, and he was sporting a row of Frankenstein stitches where his right legh used to be. But it wasn’t keeping him down. He was spinning in circles and jumping up on people (not easy to do with only one hind leg), seemingly oblivious to his missing limb. I asked them if he barked much. “He can be protective of his people,” they told me. I didn’t know what they meant until it was just me and him alone in the meeting room. He climbed into my lap, licked my face, and barked at anybody who walked by. What else could I do?
