Maya is All Right Now

We found Maya at an animal rescue facility. She had been rescued from the street; she had already littered, although she was less than two years old. There was a livid scar on her back and her tail was truncated, it was suggested by her own teeth during or after some horror. We never knew her breed; although her Cleopatra makeup resembled an Andalucian Shepherd, she weighed only 54 pounds. She was sweet and affectionate with the family ... unless big Scoobie, our Rottie/Pit mix, contested her about grub. She would fly at him then, and it was him we would have to take to the vet after. Maya was most deferential to the big guy on all other occasions, but when she was bad, she was very, very bad. After I had been to ER after trying to interfere with one of their discussions about victuals (Scoob caught my arm in his massive jaws while intent on her), we were convinced we needed to find a more serene environment for Maya. We succeeded beyond all hope. Today Maya lives in a stately mansion along the famous 17-Mile Drive in Pacific Grove in California. She sleeps wherever she likes, including in the bed of her mistress, she dines on every conceivable delicacy, at home and at one of the fine restaurants in that community where they know the worth of such critters, she is treated at a spa, she is driven about in a Jag, and her every view is scenic, her only experience is comfort and joy, and her days are chock full of the most radical contrast to her formative years. Maya had a wicked, hard-scrabble beginning, but she is all right now.

Author: 
Tim Bowden
Age: 
67
True Story?: 
yes
 

thats what i think too

thats what i think too

im glad that shes ok

im glad that shes ok