“My dogs, my dogs, what’s going to happen to them?”
I burn with desire to help, call someone, but I know I cannot. Impossible, even if I could locate her husband.
She was arrested nearing her apartment, where her five dogs live and sometimes her estranged husband. She suffers thinking about the fate of her dogs. All she wants to do is contact her husband to make sure he looks after the dogs. She has no one else. Otherwise, they will die or get taken away. Each time she awakens, she bawls and repeats her anguish, fretting so hard and patterned like worried fingers on rosary beads. Exhausted, she falls back to sleep.