Here's a dog story. When I worked in Morgantown, WV, I lived in a small rural community called Dellslow. (Sis, who had lived in the area for several years took me around when I was searching for a place, and referred to it as "Dellslow, the home of the inbred and the ugly.") Translation - cheap rent.

I had not lived there long when I dubbed it the Dellslow Dog Farm from the number of dogs allowed to roam free around the neighborhood. One dog was a 120 lb. mixed breed named Spud. Not long before I moved there, I had acquired a hound puppy, Bessie.   Momma was an American Foxhound. (Daddy was supposedly a Blue Tick, and Bessie sure had the characteristic coat of a Blue Tick, but she also clearly had some Whippet in her. ) Anyway, she was a pure hound mutt.

I was pretty hard up in those days, and she went into heat before I had the money put aside to have her spayed. My then boyfriend (the aforementioned ex), was out of town for several weeks, and I was keeping his un-neutered dog when she went into heat.   

Talk about biological imperative!

It was crazy time.   I took Cactus to work with me everyday, and kept Bessie locked in the house. Nighttime, I would put one of them in the basement and keep the other upstairs with me. Meanwhile, the house was surrounded by all the male dogs allowed to roam free by my neighbors. When I walked Bessie, I had to carry a staff to beat (I mean, fend) off the dogs. When she reached the point of being receptive, Cactus (boyfriend's dog), was absolutely frantic. I had her in the basement and him upstairs with me. I was trying to sleep, but he kept jumping up and running across the bed, trying to get out of the bedroom to the basement door. Then I heard the sound of breaking glass in the basement. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. A neighbor's dog, part bassett hound, had busted out a high, small window in the basement and fallen through to get to Bessie. I grabbed him, hauled him up the steps and out the kitchen door, brought Bessie upstairs, and dragged Cactus out to spend the night in my car. (It was winter, and cold outside.) I could hear Cactus barking and baying out in the car as I went back to bed, but the sound was muffled, and I finally went to sleep. About 3:00 in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of Bessie yelping in pain. I jumped up and ran toward the kitchen, where the sound was coming from. I flipped on the lightswitch to see Bessie and Spud locked up. Spud had dismounted and was dragging Bessie toward the back door, which was standing open, the wood at the latch splintered from Spud battering his way in to get to her. All I could do was follow them outside and wait for Spud's hard-on to subside and free Bessie. In the meantime, Cactus is going bonkers inside my little Dotsun compact. He ripped chunks out of the seats, the dashboard, and the ceiling, and tore out a seatbelt.

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Boyfriend did pay to fix what damage that was repairable to my car. Neither the of the other two dog owners felt like they had any responsibility to fix the window or the door. I went to the bank the next day and borrowed the money to abort any puppies and have Bessie spayed, and have never delayed since in having a dog spayed or neutered as soon as they were old enough for the procedure.