The blog title is shamelessly ripped off from Agatha Christie's They Came to Baghdad, available on eBay.
Yes, they used to call animal shelters "pounds." We see that Mayor Andy Betterton's less than highly educated stepdaughter still does. It's short for "impound" and doesn't bode well for those forced to reside there.
Here's an interesting tale from around 60 years ago: The little girl's father helped her into his Chevrolet truck (no one in the Shoals had ever heard the words Toyota or Nissan at that time). It was late afternoon on a weekday, and they were going to the pound, a magical place where one could find a new family member.
The truck traveled to a side of Florence the girl had never seen before and finally stopped at a nondescript building. Once inside, the two were met by a man dressed in a khaki uniform, complete with a matching hat. Yes, the man said, there was one dog available for adoption. He wasn't a puppy, but about one year-old.
The girl soon saw a dog who looked nothing like the spaniel of her dreams, but a dog the pound manager called a feist who was stuffed into a crate much too small for him. The father asked about other dogs, but there was none. There was only one adoptable dog in the pound in a city that numbered at least 30,000 individuals.The father and daughter returned home without the new family member they had hoped for.
Don't weep too much for the little girl; she soon acquired a beautiful fox terrier and lived reasonably happily ever after. The salient point of the story is that there was only one dog in the City of Florence facility available for adoption. One dog!
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