Sally and International Homeless Pets Day

My dog Sally

This is my dog Sally, often referred to as Sal. Another “mystery mix”, her face and legs feel like velvet but the rest of her feels prickly like strands of steel wool. Her ears are huge and her tail is a lot like Pluto’s or maybe a stingray’s. In a house full of boys she’s my only girl dog, so I should probably refrain from calling her Sal and reinforce what few girly aspects she does have, but she’s just not into it. The only time she ever “works it” is when my husband comes home, and then look out. It’s all wiggling and wagging and shameless flirting and good grief. I never get a reception like that…what is it about girl dogs? They can really lay it on thick when they want to!

She is a pretty good dog, she even came to work with me for two weeks one summer at the San Francisco office of Pentagram and made lots of friends. But most of the time Sally’s big thing is squirrels. She can and will sit completely still for hours observing and studying every little squirrel twitch. Her other big thing is the “freedom run”, leash or not. On several occasions while out for a run I’ve gone flying when a squirrel zips across the road in front of us. As a result, I’m convinced my right arm is now at least a few inches longer.

My dog Sally in puppyhood and today

Sally’s always been a pretty happy-go-lucky gal, but things didn’t start out so great for her. They could have been really disastrous: a woman drove her giant Cadillac into a gas station on the corner of a busy intersection, barely slowing down as she opened the door and threw out what appeared to be a black sweater. Except this black sweater was a puppy that picked itself up and started running frantically for its life. Luckily she was rescued before being hit by a car.

So in honor of Sally who did make it, I’m going to light a candle tomorrow on International Homeless Pets Day for all the dogs who don’t make it, or are right now on that hairline verge. For all the dogs who are put into precarious situations all over the world by rotten women in giant Cadillacs at busy intersections and every other horribly cruel individual. And I’m hoping that like that black sweater, they can all get up and run.