Griselda, a German Shepherd, and a Dog

I rang the bell outside the gate and waited, then rang it every five minutes until finally the door opened. Griselda had had his vocal cords removed, she would tell me later. Though her face was round, its skin had wrinkled into a topographical map. Her eyes were sunken, their positions vaguely semaphored by eye liner that fell in crumbs down her cheeks. I handed her my resime through the gate. She did not take it, but looked at me for a long time and told me that i wasn't a man.