Hey! My name is Ray.
This is my friend, Reynolds.
Some assholes kicked us out of their truck in front of the Humane Society of Catawba County. On the asshole scale, I guess they ranked somewhere below 10 because the Humane Society is a no-kill shelter, but still, they were assholes. Reynolds and I are 8 years old, that’s 56 of your human years, so we were these losers’ elders. They treated us with no respect.
Anyway, the people at the Humane Society were righteous. They took us in, cleaned us up, fed us, had the doc look over our old bones and put our pics out there on the internets for people to see. No one came by for a long time. I think it’s because they said that I had these things called “cat-racts” which means I can’t see. I think that what they call it is must be wrong, because I’m a DOG, people, not a stupid cat.
That’s where our personal heroes come into the story. Matt Elder (whose last name means that he understands how to respect us senior dogs) is a solid guy. He saw my picture and showed it to his woman. Said he thought I would be a good guy to have around the house (me and that dude get each other).
She finally caved. Called the Humane Society and found out that I don’t go anywhere without my main guy, Reynolds. Matt continued to show how he’s the kinda guy you want to be around — told Cristy that two dogs around the house would be just fine. She and Matt visited us at our home at the shelter and realized just how cool R-man and I are. And just like that, we’re now at home with M & C.
So, here’s the current sitch–C took us to get groomed and our new looks are fine. My guess is that if we had had such awesome looking hair cuts while at the shelter, we would have been out of there a lot sooner. (Women love a well-groomed man.) Lucky for C & M, we were still around so that we could help them not be so lonely.
It’s a good thing we came along. C & M needed us.