Blue Sunday

I'm finally having a sangria with vegetarian-chorizo-and-hot-peppers stuffed tortillas. The hot-hot-hot peppers, courtesy of Melwin, the old man in HSPCA admissions.
 
Another tough day after a sleepless night, starting with a white pitbull abandoned at Bayland Park. He would not come to Astra and me; he just would slowly move away and lie down again on the grass, either waiting for the person who dumped him or simply enjoyed his new-gained freedom. I realized that even if I got him like yesterday's dog -- and I probably could have in time -- I had nowhere to take him except home. HSPCA would kill him on arrival and all no-kill organizations are full to the gills with "pitties" (aptly nicknamed). I consulted with Patty our neighbor about whether to call BARC to at least get him out of reach of the potential dog fighters at the park, and she said  BARC would also kill him on arrival because they are overrun with the breed, but better than a slow agony in the streets or in a fighting pit.
 
Houston is beginning to sound more and more like Beijing or Mogadishu or Tijuana concerning animals. So, having no options I played god again and condemned him to death by calling BARC. There was perfect symmetry in a day punctuated by sadness when another white pittie who had not only just given birth but had also been fought (what a heartless world!) arrived at the evaluation room. Again all I could do was adopt her on the spot or walk away. My second kill of the day ... I walked away although she was all over me. She was so white, her lips, eyelids, nose, tits, pawpads were the palest pink (something our of a bloody fairy tale) ... and loving people although she got nothing but pain and a death sentence from us.
 
Between doomed pitties I walked dogs, dealt with the ignorant or retarded public, and spent time with our former guest dog, who is  sinking into depression and not eating. We sat in the kennel together and cried, then I left. Next door, Purdee and Chula were also getting kennel blues. And those are only my chosen three of a couple hundred dogs ... 
 
Tomorrow is a big day, including the first Univision gig (taped) at 2 PM. I hardly know how I can cram it all in 12 hours ... How do the likes of Deborah Huffman, single mother of 2, full-time job, and running Corridor Rescue, to mention just one, do it?