I had some errands to run this morning, one of which took me to the Barnes & Noble in Campbell. I parked next to an older, red Ford SUV (Wisconsin plate 893 AVU) that had some kind of little dog in it. The windows were open far enough for the dog to get his nose out, but he was barking like something was wrong.

So I called the SPCA, only to be told that the Society to Prevent Cruelty to Animals doesn't deal with animal-related emergencies. For that, I have to call animal control, who presumably controls the animals who lock their dogs in cars. I called them and waited on hold for nearly seven minutes before I had to leave to get to an appointment. And the dog, who had been there when I had gone into the B&N twenty minutes before, was still locked in the car with no signs of its owner.

The car was a beater that had the look of someone living in it. The back was full of stuff, the passenger's side door was repaired with duct tape. Anyone living like that likely doesn't have a lot of friends other than their dog, so how shitty are they going to feel when that dog dies because they fried it? The sad thing is that there's nothing you can say to people like that. They don't learn.

And it's not even like I like dogs.