The world of socializing has become flat. That is, after we adopt a dog from a shelter. The old barriers of social class, age, gender, and attractiveness come tumbling down. All that is left standing are our adopted dog and ourselves.
In this 1,400 unit residential complext in New Haven, Connecticut everyone seems to have a "rescue." Many have been shipped up from southern states with the middleman being Animal Haven in North Haven, Connecticut. My rescue Lee K. lost his pet parent in Florida and a few days after he arrived north we locked eyes at the Animal Heaven. The maintenance crew at this development got their rescues at the Animal Heaven from Georgia. Once Lee K.'s adoption was final, I have about 35 new buddies on my network. We already have set up dog-sitting schedules. A few days ago Lucky hung out in my apartment while his musician pet parent networked in hope of picking up more gigs.
Dogs from non-rescue situations, although they also need homes, raise eyebrows. At the post office one woman on line ranted about the neighbor who "purchased" a Yorkie for $1,600. That's considered a crime against dogginess. There are so many four-footed friends in shelters awaiting "forever homes" - that's the phrase Animal Heaven uses when answering the phone.