"Amy" speaks out!

After being hit by a car, stray dog "Amy" talks about life on the streets

You humans are responsible for so much. We are at your mercy. You built the streets upon which you drive your dangerous, speeding things called cars. You want us as pets when we're cute and small; you allow your children to use us as toys--WE keep the little monsters busy so you can watch your favorite TV show.

Your sweet little darlings kick at us, step on us and throw things at us. You act as if it is their right--after all, we are just animals, and lowly dogs with no pedigree at that.

If we are lucky enough to reach adulthood, and not many of us do, we suddenly become too expensive to buy food for, or take to the doctor when we're sick. We're not allowed in the house any more because we may have fleas or disease, so we're left to fend for ourselves. We're not cute and playful anymore, and we've gotten big enough so when your little darling kicks at us we turn around and give him a taste of his own medicine. Chomp! How do you like that, ya little rugrat! (That usually gets us banished to the street forever, but how much do you expect us to take?)

Now comes the hard part, especially for us girls. Not only do we have to find food (garbage is good), but we have to fend off dozens of male suitors--at the same time. Those guys, they run in packs, and they just won't give up until we're with child. Well, in our case, its more like with children, plural. We try to run away from them, but it hardly every works. That's how I lost my tail the first time, and I do mean this literally!

I was racing to get away from this big, drooling brute, and was looking back to see if he was gaining on me and WHAM! Something hit me--maybe it was car--I don't know for sure, but when I came to, there was nothing to wag anymore. (Didn't really matter to me; I had nothing to be happy about anyway.)

At least on the streets, because of my small size, people are sometimes nice to me. If they're eating, they occasionally throw me a snippet. If I hang around long enough, I might even get a pat on the head. One day, this lady was really kind, and gave me some wonderful meat scraps from her taco stand. I ate the tortilla and all. She was there every day, making those delectable tacos, and she'd always give me any scraps the customers had left. I'd patiently wait until the end of the night, and I'd get all the leftovers. She wouldn't let any other dogs around, so that was good. Finally, I started following her home. She had to cross one of those big 4-lane streets. I already knew what could happen, so I stayed right beside her. When she went into her home and shut the door, I slept on her porch all night. Mornings, I'd follow her back to the taco stand. This went on for a while, and I was pretty happy, though the fleas were making me itch like crazy.

One day, however, my benefactor didn't come out of her house. A neighbor came over and knocked on the door and waited a long time before she heard a weak answer. I was shocked to find that my human friend was ill. I tried to get in to see her, but was rudely kicked out of the way. Later, some people came by and took her off in an old red truck. Where would I get my food, today, I wondered?

Trotting around the neighborhood, I spied another taco stand, but it was across that big 4-lane street. Stomach growling, nose sniffing the delectable odors wafting from only 40 feet away, I decided to go for it. Looked both ways...so far, so good... road's clear...then...OH MY GOD...IT'S A PICK-UP TRUCK AND ITS FLYING! ERRT....SCREEECH....BAM!

So much pain--I'm under the truck...I've got to get out of here...I can't walk! Oh, the pain! My legs won't move! The driver's trying to grab me; a woman is screaming at me...Somebody please help me!

Well, I managed to drag my bruised and broken body off the road using my two front legs--for some reason the back ones weren't working anymore. There I lay, overcome with pain--and, remorse over my stupidity--going into shock, and wondering if this is end for me.

Suddenly, I heard a gentle, reassuring voice, and two men appeared looking down on me. They gently picked me up and put me in a box, then loaded me into one of those horrible 4-wheeled speeding things that had almost done me in. What next, I thought dejectedly, re they going to finish the job, this time?

They took me to another kindly man whose office smelled of dog food and antiseptic. They referred to him as "doctor," and he started checking me out, poking and feeling! Ouch, that hurt! But I was brave; I didn't cry, didn't even whimper. Somehow I knew he was trying to help. Suddenly, a big needle appeared in his hand, and I felt a pinprick...and then--blessed relief from pain.

When I awoke some time later (maybe the next day), I was feeling much better, but my hindquarters were wrapped up like a sausage. (Speaking of sausages, I was getting very hungry.) I was in some sort of cage (scary), but there was fresh food and water! Inching my way over very carefully, using my two front legs because I still couldn't stand, I ate and drank my fill, then passed out and slept for a long time.

I was finally taken from the veterinary's office (a new word I learned for a doctor that helps animals) to a nice, quiet enclosed yard. I was given a real bed, (actually an old box with a towel), food and water, but to me its like a Bed & Breakfast! There's only one problem. Susan and Carlos at the scuba shop can't keep me, because they've already rescued 3 street dogs and 2 street cats, plus they have a 17-year-old poodle Sunny (pedigreed even). I am healing just fine, though I'm told I'll always have a limp from my broken leg, but I'm going to need shots, and a hysterectomy (another new word, also known as "spaying").

I am left alone all day, so I can rest and heal. I'm very lonely with no one to ruff or whine to, although Sunny checks on me in the mornings and when she gets home with her master Susan in the evenings. Susan feeds me, and she also helped me write this. (Everyone knows dogs can't really write.) She thinks that I will make someone a really good pet because I'm so appreciative of everything, don't bark, I'm small, and really affectionate. I'm also not a picky eater! I might be about 9 months old, have big brown eyes, and have gorgeous white eyelashes! My weight is about 11 lbs., but I'm told I'm way too thin for my age.

If you would like to adopt me, please write to Susan, or call her at (314) 333-3678.

Be kind to Animals week is May 1-7. Learn more. Do something for your pet, or adopt a street dog.

Be a responsible pet guardian, click here. Make a difference.

Click here for 10 ways to be kind to animals. Teach your children at a young age.

For a microchip for your pet, contact Diane Johnson, www.azdoxies.com or e-mail her at dianejohnson@cox.net

For information about Manzanillo's Humane Society, click here.