Why Are the Dogs In Cages Instead of The People Who Hurt Them?

I'm angry tonight, angry at a world where people can abuse animals and get away with it.

We went to see Mellifer/Amy/Nancy/Cupcake tonight, the dog I met the other day and who I was hoping could become part of our family.

"Someone's beaten the hell out of her," I'd been told. "She's been impossible to place."

She was wonderful once we got her out of the cage and outside that first visit; sweet, friendly, clearly interested in getting a human of her own.

But I'd been warned she was fearful of men. KB and I went tonight, hoping that perhaps she'd sense that he'd never hurt anyone.

She greeted him with a growl. She was afraid, despite the cookies in his pocket, his soft voice, his effort to be non-threatening.

It didn't get better. He tried. He gave her space. But the minute he turned his attention toward her, she growled. At one point, she lunged.

"This isn't going to work," the woman who clearly likes her and wanted her to go home with us tonight admitted.

This isn't a mean dog. She's afraid. And unfortunately, she shows her fear with aggression. For someone comfortable with dogs, who understand them, she's worth the work she'll require. But for us, with one of us never having owned a dog and just not sure what to do or how to act, it's a disaster waiting to happen.

We had to leave her there.

"Someone else called about her, too," we were told. "Maybe it'll work out."

I've adopted dogs before, dogs who'd been abused and mistreated. And it always breaks my heart, because the dogs are so willing to forgive, so basically kind and bewildered. And it's even sadder when a badly treated dog turns fearful; it makes it that much harder to find them the loving home they so desperately want and need.

I hope Mellifer/Melissa/Melinda/Melanie finds one. I wish it could have been ours.