Later that evening, dogs fed, training sessions completed, dogs crated or sleeping in their designated places around the house, Amanda turned on the computer.  As usual, dozens of emails were in her inbox.  She scanned the subject lines, her finger hovering over the “delete” key.  She opened the latest list brags and litter announcements.  She deleted the ones that said “BSL...please help.. blah blah...”  In the back of her mind she wondered why all of a sudden there seemed to be so many more of these type emails.  They were so cumbersome and difficult to read through.  Every once in a while, when it was a “slow” email day, she would open on of the breed specific legislation emails.

 “Please help fight HB xxxx” or “Mandatory Spay/Neuter Bill strikes...so and so”  The email would include a copy of the proposed legislation, followed by a list of people to call or write, or an email petition to sign.  It was not that Amanda didn’t care about such things.  She really did.  Amanda knew that something needed to be done to counter the ever increasing wave of animal activists.  She did care about those people in California or Massachusetts or Pennsylvania.  It was just that she had so much to do and those places were so far away from her quiet little town.  These things only affected people in the big cities, people who lived in suburban towns with manicured lawns.  This type of legislation didn’t come to small country towns.  Still it bothered Amanda and she meant to write a letter to that Congressman about it.  She meant to track that bill to see what happened.  She meant to make a donation to that new organization that was fighting such things.  She’d do it when she had the time.  In between the dog shows, when it wasn’t so busy.

Maybe she would have time next week to write that letter or to become a member of that organization.  She would do it.  But first she had to enter that upcoming show and that would cost her money so she just couldn’t make that donation this time.  Maybe next paycheck.  She got lost in the world of cyberspace and more exciting things like who had new litters and who’s dog just finished their championship.  As she answered emails, the BSL email was already becoming a shadow on her memory, fading into non-existence like all those emails she had read before, like a dream fades from the dreamer’s mind upon waking. 

Time is life’s most elusive creature to harness.  It often avoids capture, slipping just beyond the reach of those who try to catch it.  Those people lucky enough to capture time, usually don’t appreciate how valuable it is and it sits there collecting dust.  And once time is gone, there is no getting it back. And so it was with Amanda. Time slipped away.  Summer turned to fall and fall turned to winter.  Winter was chased away by Spring and somehow made it back to summer.  Life went on as usual, as it always had, and as she assumed it always would.

The present day...

             Amanda shook her head, coming back to reality.  Her new reality.  She was off this particular day and it had begun as such a nice day.  Not too hot, with a slight breeze in the air.  The dogs had gotten her up at 6:30 A.M. like clockwork..., she never could teach them about days off, and she was just finishing up the morning routine.  She was thinking about who she was going to use as a stud for one of her girls that was showing signs of coming into heat.  She was not in the yard when the vehicles pulled up to the gate, but as they always did, the dogs let her know someone was there.  She poked her head out the door and saw the Sheriffs patrol car and a white, unmarked van. 

“What is this about?” she asked. 

“I’m sorry Amanda, I really am, but there’s been a new law, a new ordinance..” he trailed off, unable to continue, and looked over his shoulder at the white van with obvious distaste.  Her stomach clenched like the jaws of an alligator on prey and her heart began to pound. 

“Didn’t you see the local paper?  Didn’t you attend the meetings at the school?” he asked. 

“What? No. I have been so busy with work and the shows and training, and I don’t get the local paper.” 

The Sheriff looked down, dreading what he was now obligated by law to tell her. “Well Amanda, you know I’ve known you for what, 15 years now? You know I don’t want to do this. I know you are not a problem. You are a responsible member of the community,” he said.

All the color had drained from Amanda’s face. She had to force the words out of her mouth. Her words were barely audible. “What...what is the new law?”

“No person is allowed to have more than three dogs and they must be spayed or neutered” he said.

“But I am a breeder, I. . . I have papers,” she stammered “There has to be an exception.”

There were exceptions. The new law said that all breeders must be registered with the state, and a fee per dog had to be paid. Amanda told him she’d pay the fee and she would register, no matter what the cost, she would get the money, she would do it this very minute, the sheriff could take her there now to do it. The Sheriff wiped his brow and angrily spat on the ground in the direction of the white van that Amanda now guessed contained cages.

“I’m sorry Amanda, but the registration and appropriate fee had to have been completed before this date.” “I thought you knew, that someone would have told you.” he added in an apologetic voice.  “I have to take your dogs.  You can keep three if they are fixed.”