I am part of a small group of dedicated animal lovers. They call us the Kingston Angels, and we try to live up to the name.
This is a story of coincidences. Or were they?
On my way to the eye clinic to pick up an elderly friend from out of town, I glimpsed a post from Adam showing a sad, copper-coloured dog, limping painfully along in front of his townhouse complex. He had never seen this dog before, but couldn’t stop as he was late for a meeting.
I didn’t have a lot of time either, but felt drawn to check it out, and so detoured in that direction. By then the dog had found her way into some open land across from the townhouses, and was camouflaged in the distance among a heap of dead branches. A kind security guard helped me clamber through the barbed wire to get closer and I was able to see that she was horribly scarred, probably either from boiling water (sadly very popular in Jamaica) or some corrosive chemical. She was lying down and looked up at me calmly, leaning into my hand as I rubbed her ears. I left a bowl of food and some water with her because I was now very late for my appointment, and shot off a message to the angels.
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