Shortly after publishing last week’s missive I came across this picture of the small Hound mix that wandered in out of the wilderness to die on our back doorstep in WV.
12 week old “Pearl,” as she came to be known, was dropped off last March with 3 other siblings near our small community along the banks of the Shavers Fork River. One other made it – the other 2 didn’t – and as you can see by the picture, Pearl skimmed the edge of existence by a centimeter or two.
My hope is the folks that let them out did so in hopes that they had a better chance of making it there than they did at the closest “kill shelter.”
One never knows.
When we returned to our cabin a few weeks later Pearl promptly pulled a mangled bob-cat carcass from beneath our back porch and fiercely defended it from our other two dogs. The remains of that thing had probably kept her alive until her death nail surrender and now the 14-week old pup stood her ground against her much larger “siblings” like a well-seasoned she-wolf.
You learn to do whatever it takes when it comes to survival.
It seems likely she will never take leave of that trait. No source of protein, be it bug, vegetable leaf or anything resembling same, ever goes un-ingested.
She reminds me of my depression-era grandparents who never wasted ANYTHING and re-purposed EVERYTHING.
You’re in mighty good company Pearl.
And so are we.