amazing Detroit blog: detroitblog.org
Though it’s clearly abandoned, the house has a full-time occupant, a guard dog who is the undisputed, sole tenant.
The dog, whose natural facial expression is a mean scowl of dog anger, makes it clear he does not accept visitors. He lounges somewhere in the house until a noise outside stirs him, at which point he trots past the open, thick wood doors, charges down the steps and announces himself with a growl and a stare. A meaner dog face would be hard to find.
Thick necked and sharp toothed, he has no collar and would be a standard stray ghetto dog but for the fact that he was put here by someone who regularly stops by to drop trays of food scraps in the fenced-in yard for him, usually meat-covered bones. There’s absolutely no getting past him to explore the house.
He’s a classic junkyard dog, a wild dog with little human contact and no purpose in life other than being a guard dog for a shell of a home that has nothing left to steal or scrap. But he has a house to himself, more than the hundreds of wild dogs roaming the city have, and, in fact, more than some of the people passing by his house every day have. It’s a dog’s life, indeed.
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