After spending a fabulous few days on Hilton Head Island with Mom, Dad, and the kids, Scott and I decided to leave a few hours earlier than we had planned. Kerri, from Middle Mutts (the rescue organization I work with), had mentioned that they desperately need someone to visit the Marlboro County Animal Shelter to take photos of the shelter dogs there. A shelter dog’s best chance of being adopted is to be posted on petfinder.com and other adoption sites. A shelter dog’s best chance of being rescued is to have his/her photo and information shared with rescue organizations, or with individuals able and willing to foster.
So, Scott agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly, to help me photograph and record information about the dogs at Marlboro County. Truthfully, I think he agreed to go with me because he didn’t trust me to come back without a car full of dogs otherwise.
Marlboro County is four hours from Hilton Head. We left around 10:00, never thinking to call. We assumed that the shelter would be open until 5:00. Imagine our horror when we showed up at 2:57 and found this:
So, I’m filing this as a “memorable mishap” blog post. Lesson learned: call any far away shelter with which you’re unfamiliar to ask about their hours. *sigh*
The fact that the shelter is only open 1.5 hours in the morning and 1 hour in the afternoon, 5 days a week further complicates the animals’ chances of being adopted. The weekend is the most popular time to adopt a pet, and that’s when this shelter is closed. They lack the resources, I assume, to operate on a more regular schedule.
Despite the fact that I couldn’t get in to photograph and to talk to the shelter workers about the animals there, I was able to get a few photos through the fences that surround three side of the building. The faces are many and haunting.
These are good dogs, dealt a bad hand. One of them, a larger white one, barked at me in the beginning, but as soon as I let her smell me, she was kissing my hand through the chain-link fence, smiling and begging to be petted.
Another one who barked and then turned into a big baby is this guy. Scott says he must weigh 100 pounds at least. Most dogs play with tennis balls. The shelter workers put a BASKETBALL in the pen for Big Boy (our nickname for him), and he entertained us for about twenty minutes. Scott said he was trying to dribble. He’d knock it from wall to wall, and do it faster whenever I’d say, in my best Soccer Mom voice, “Get that ball! Get it!”
But, as you can see, there are dogs of all sizes and ages. We were heartbroken that we couldn’t do more while there. If anyone lives in or near to Bennettsville and is willing to help, please send me a message. All it takes is an hour or two, and it could quite literally save the life of someone’s future best friend.
And, if you don’t have the time or inclination to do that, please consider contributing to (one of) my current foster’s heartworm treatment. The less expenses I incur with a foster, the sooner I’m able to afford to pull another one.
Here’s the chip-in link for Finn, my Chester York:
http://middlemutts.chipin.com/finn-hw-treatment
And here’s a photo of the little guy:
Fostering Chester 
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