This is the first of a series of guest posts on nearly everything under the sun, intersecting with the wonderful, wild, wild world of animals.
She waves at you from under half-combed hair so greasy you want to believe it’s just wet. There are actual smears of dirt on her face–which you realize as you manufacture an expression approaching nausea more than the intended pleasant greeting is not nearly so aesthetically pleasing as Hollywood would have you believe–and when she opens her mouth to speak to you, it smells like something died in there. Several times.
Would you let this woman take care of your pets? Continue reading