Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The price is adopt a dog!

Here I was at the animal shelter in downtown Los Angeles getting more and more enraged as I watched people drop off their dogs. I could feel the anger pulsing through my veins and it was all I could do not to jump out of my skin with rage against these humans who were throwing away their pets. I was just about to completely lose it when my boss Blaine arrived with my client, Gretchen Wyler. Quickly I gained my composure and changed into the pr professional I needed to prove I could be to my boss, my client, myself and to the world. 
It was 12:30, just ½ hour before the press conference was scheduled to begin. I was asked to walk through the facility and select a few dogs for the event. I steadied myself to enter the shelter, knowing I wouldn't be taking any of the dogs I saw home with me.
Kennels lined the pathway as I walked through. Up to six dogs were crowed in each cage, spaces no bigger than your average closet. The stench sent me reeling and the noise echoed off the cement floors as pure bred pedigrees; poodles, shepherds of all kinds, pit bulls, terriers and all sorts of mutts joined together in sending out distress cries begging to get out. There was even a Great Dane in a cage with four funny looking mutts half his size, all staring at me, jumping on top of each other in a frantic dance. 
Blanca, the dog I saw earlier, was already listed for adoption, available immediately. She looked like a deer in headlights. Next to her, a back Scotty dog, its fur dull and matted, its tail limp, was razor thin. I picked the Scotty, Blanca and two crazy looking Chihuahua mutts who reminded me of my childhood dog, Siesta. These were our spokesdogs for the press conference and I hoped the publicity would get them all adopted to good homes. I brought them outside and placed them in a large x-pen at the front of the podium. The four of them would be the official spokesdogs. 
By 12:45 pm, Channel 7, 2, 4, 5 and 11, in fact, all the local stations, arrived for the big announcement.
“Good job, Susan,” Blaine whispered in my ear. I could hardly breathe I was so excited.
“Hello darrllinghs,” Gretchen greeted the dogs first, not the humans, and they looked up at her happy to see someone smiling back at them. She shook hands with the media, greeting them as if they had come to her home for an afternoon tea.
Then Bob Barker arrived. He was taller than I had imagined from seeing him on television. Wearing a classic navy suit with a matching tie and crisp white shirt, the game show host, well known for reminding people to spay and neuter their pets, was about to speak. The buzz in the air was unbelievable.

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