A gentle-spirited, orange and white Pekingese-Terrier mix vanishes from the Mississippi Animal Rescue League kennel before Clyde and I can loop back to visit her. I don’t know who adopted “Mummasita,” but I hope she’s found a happy home.
Once we establish that Mummasita is gone, Clyde and I wander the aisles of the MARL shelter. The variety of dogs — from chihuahuas to mastiffs — overwhelms me. So many eager eyes, perky ears, wagging tails in one place! Unfortunately, none fit our criteria, so we move on.
The trip to the Jackson City Pound turns out to be a complete waste of time. It’s a sad wreck of a place, an industrial green cinderblock nightmare stuck in the middle of an eroded dirt lot. The one employee is leaving as we arrive. She’s not eager to go back in, despite the fact that it’s only 2:00 in the afternoon.
“We don’t have no dogs for adoptin’,” she explains. “We just, you know, have the ones we pick up.”
I show her pages from Petfinder.com that reference the downtown pound location as an adoption center.
She glances at them and shakes her head. “Naw, we don’t have no dogs for adoptin’. You have to call the number on these ads. Those dogs are all at somebody’s house.”
I call the numbers. We’re too late — the dogs we were interested in have already been adopted.
On the way home, we stop by Briarwood Animal Hospital, where Dixie was a client for so long. In their petshop — not the sort that sells dogs from puppy mills, but one that represents breeders — they have a number of puppies, including min pins and rat terriers.
Dixie was partially rat terrier, so I pay special attention to these black and white puppies in particular. An attendant notices me and strikes up a conversation. I tell her I’m interested in rat terriers, and mention I’m interested in a small dog.
She grins. “Wait here.” A few minutes later, she returns, her arms laden with three tiny toy rat terriers. Each squirming pup is about the size of a can of Diet Coke.
I’m right in the middle of ooohing and aaahing, when she winks at me and says, “Watch.” She stoops, puts them on the floor … and the air explodes with bouncing puppies. The little critters don’t run in all directions — they spring, they hop, they launch themselves in the air in a series of excited, playful leaps.
It takes several minutes — and lots of concentrated effort — to gather them up again.
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