Once I rescued an abandoned dog I found on the street and named him “Ratzinger.” He was a beagle, like my beloved Susie, though it might have been hard to tell—since half of his fur was missing, he was covered in bleeding sores, and his ears were profoundly infected. He smelled awful, and had no interest in anything but eating. (I later learned from neighbors that his real name was “Homer” and that his jackass owners had left him in their yard, throwing him nothing but bowls of food.) He was tied to a parking meter, covered by some well-wisher with a blanket, and waiting for animal control to come pick him up and euthanize him.
I brought him into the house, spent a month’s rent at...READ MORE