Hard luck pup

This is Pi. Don't ask me about the name, I didn't give it to him. I went to the Charlottesville-Albemarle SPCA today seeking a favor. I needed to get Gemma vaccinated. (She was returned this week, apparently not so good with the small dog that would be living in the same home.) I didn't have a clean or really current set of medical records for her, so I just had all the shots repeated, along with a heartworm test.

I foolishly asked if they had any dogs that I should look at. Pi was in a run by himself in isolation pending the results of a ringworm test. He was cool and comfy, but bored, so I brought him home. This place is many things to a dog, but it is rarely boring.

From the amount of hair lost on his muzzle, and a few other spots on his body, I would bet a fair amount of money on Pi testing positive for ringworm. Having ringworm when you are a puppy really sucks, because it means that you can't romp and play with other pups, or anyone else really.

I'll dip him in that nasty smelling, but very effective lyme/sulfur dip, and he will soon be on the road to recovery.

He's young and will recover from it quickly, but the protocol for testing and re-testing for ringworm means that he would be in isolation for quite a while. Not a great way to spend your puppyhood, so he came home with me.

It was a day for hard luck experiences. On the way home coming through Charlottesville, I encountered a young woman panhandling at an exit off the bypass. I lived and worked in D.C. for enough years to have developed an immunity to the pathetic looks of most panhandlers. Something about this young woman struck me, however. She didn't look like a drunk, drug-addict, or anything like that. She actually looked fairly decent although the afternoon in the sun and heat had obviously taken their toll. She was holding the requisite hand-written, cardboard sign, which read: "Not making it, please help."

I think that my own situation (still unemployed) gave me some empathy for the woman's situation, although I had no real idea what set of circumstances had brought her to that exit ramp. It was sort of the "there but for the grace of god, go I" feeling. I rolled down my window, motioned her over, and gave her a dollar. Not enough to really help her in the long run, but it's pretty hard to worry about the long run when you are facing immediate problems.

Gemma, Pi, and I came on home, feeling relatively lucky. Pi's ringworm will clear up, Gemma will find a home again soon, and even the flat tire I discovered on the van when I got home is a pretty easy fix.