Hello. You don’t know me, and for your sake, you’d best hope and pray that you never have the misfortune to meet me.
How do I know your name? Because the people at animal control gave me Cocoa’s intake sheet. You know, the one you filled out. The one that said Cocoa was 12 years old and you’d had her all those years. The one that said you were moving to a pet-free apartment and couldn’t take your faithful companion of 12 years. You know, the one that you said was a “sweet old girl- a wonderful companion.” The one that said you had limited funds.
Here’s the thing, Jean. Oh, I didn’t ask if I could call you Jean but I’m going to. Or I could call you a number of other names, none of which you’d like very much. When I saw Cocoa’s picture on the…
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