On the way to work, Scott found a puppy in the middle of the street. No tags, no missing puppy signs up in the neighborhood. She's rail thin and frightened but she likes being pet. Freckles and Indiana were fairly friendly to her (meaning that they smelled her but didn't growl) so she can be our foster dog assuming that the vet gives her a clean bill of health. Meanwhile I think I've washed my hands fifty times in the last two hours so that I don't transfer whatever illnesses she might have to the dogs or the baby. We'll try to find her a home so we don't cross the line that separates families with two dogs from families with three dogs (I'm assuming that there is such a line--I don't know anybody with three dogs). If we can't find her a permanent home, she stays with us.
The thing I hate the most about Phoenix (more than hostile drivers or the risk of melanoma) is the stray dog situation--people just do not mind their dogs here.
When we tried to feed her dog food she didn't know what to do with it. I don't think she had ever seen kibble before. But she ate some salami out of my hand (I realize that salami isn't the best option for a starving dog, but that's the only meat we had) so at least she has an appetite.
We're calling her Pepper.
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