Standing out Like a Sore Thumb

[Freedomlover]

First, a little background.

Until recently we had some neighbors that were less than ideal. Their personal problems aside what got my wife's blood boiling was the way they treated their dogs. Four of them. Three were kept chained to trees and were lucky to get fed once or twice a week. The fourth, one of those cute little Mexican dogs whose name I could never spell, just ran loose. Jean and I got fed up with it and went calling. The woman came to the door and my wife explained the problem--forcefully. Maybe a little too forcefully. We were invited to leave. A week or so later I reached the end of my rope and called the Sheriff (we had already tried Animal Control, but they are as useful as teats on a boar hog). Before going further I should mention that by now the residents had been served eviction papers and were moved out but for some odds and ends (like the dogs chained to the trees).

Within just a few minutes a Deputy showed up. Then the property owner, who is a friend of mine (and the evicted wifes' stepfather!), drove up. I pointed out the problem to the Deputy and he agreed that something had to be done. About that time the husband of this woman arrived. At first he denies ownership, but that isn't going to wash. The Deputy says to Fred and I, "wait here", and to my evicted neighbor, "come with me". They disappear around the corner of the house. A few minutes later they reappear and I am informed that the dogs are mine if I want them.

So Fred and I moved them over to my place. One of the dogs, a Walker hound, was so starved and frantic that it bit my left arm pretty badly. (The next day it tried again and got sent to the shelter for rabies monitoring while I went for shots).

Anyway, so now we have three extra dogs that need homes. My wife is big on helping out animals in distress, so she decides to get them all vetted and adopted through a local animal adoption agency.

By the time their next clinic comes around we have had these puppies (none older than a year) for about ten days. So now we get to THE POINT OF THE STORY! YAY!!

Last evening we loaded the little doggies up and hauled them to Asheville to the clinic. I, of course, am kilted even with the temperature in the upper twenties.
I suppose there were at least 25-30 other people with animals looking for help, plus a veterinary staff and volunteers from the network. All together about 40 or so. Aside from myself there is only one other man there: hence the title of this post. Every one in the place, except me, was wearing pants. It took a little while, but someone finally asked me if I wasn't cold. I said, "not at all, are you?" She blushed and turned away. Minutes later a little girl of about 6 came over and said, "Mister, why are you dressed like a girl?" Now all this was going on in a waiting area, (standing only: no chairs), that was not more than 10 x 20 feet so everyone could hear everything. I said, "Honey, look around. I am the only one in the place who is NOT dressed like a girl". That got more than a few laughs. After that there were some polite inquiries about nationality and so forth, but what tension there was dissipated in the innocent question of a little girl.