Hungry

Most folks don’t have to spend much time with me to figure out that I have a large appetite. I generally snack my way through most days; even at that I am able to consume large amounts of food at any given mealtime. I am told this is a longstanding characteristic – my childhood is replete with stories of consumption conquests – entire steaks at age 5, an entire large pizza at age 10, all-you-can buffets munched right into financial ruin. There are also the myriad stories of the variety of foodstuffs of which I would partake – as a toddler in a high chair happily munching down a raw green onion or pushing through my first dill pickle, or cow tongue as an appetizer, a taco filling, or a main course.

Folks in the nutrition business or diet industry will readily distinguish the difference between appetite and hunger. Make no mistake, I appreciate the difference and am thankful every day that, notwithstanding my healthy appetite, I do not go hungry.

When you are the littlest puppy in the litter and something terrible has happened to cause your spine to grow into a hump, you are experiencing great discomfort from the foreign object lodged up into your upper gum, you are being nibbled away at by hoards of fleas, and you are teeming with whipworms, hookworms and roundworms, you know hunger. With that wonderful combination, you probably couldn’t eat enough to assuage the hunger, even if you wolfed down canned food in seconds flat, and then stood for another ten minutes licking the smell out of the dog dish.

And you would be a magnificent creature indeed if even though your little belly was concave, and each and every rib could be counted, you still could enjoy the comfort of a soft bed, and had love to share with anyone willing to offer up a lap.

Mostly, we appreciate the work of the dedicated folks who keep a shoestring rescue going notwithstanding the driving, the expense, the late nights and early mornings, and the repeated heartbreak, so we know this baby will never have to know hunger again.