Sometimes, there just isn't enough slobber.

As my transplanted life has been rather sedate, lonely, and petshit-free, I knew I wanted to volunteer at the local Humane Society. Thursday was my first day, and I got to walk and brush three dogs (separately), and evaluate my interaction with them for the Volunteer Coordinator. Shy, confident, good on a leash, not, knows how to sit, couldn't sit if you paid him. I thought it would be depressing, but it's actually a great feeling to get these dogs out of their kennels for a little one-on-one (or one-on-tree) time. The building is small, but relatively nice and only about 10 years old. It has more cats (130+) than dogs (~25), because there's another city organization that has the animal control contract (which usually picks up more dogs than cats). I'll be heading over there every Thursday, at least until September when my class schedule will change. Hopefully I can convince them to buy a big dog suit, so I can do what I do best.*

If anyone's interested in an all-gray short-haired cat who meows at your very presence, reaches out to you, and scratches her head against your fingers, I've got just the Josie for you.
Not that I've fallen in love or anything.
She's just a cool chick.

*breakdance, scare old ladies, pretend to eat baby heads.