Wholly v. Panther

As you can see from my previous post my belly is fat with a chicken burger, I'm fine. But this is about Wholly.
There are a lot of animals at Farley. Too many. At one point: four dogs, one cat, two sheep, many, many chickens and five kids. Apparently two rosters is one too many so when Sam, the kid in charge of fowls, held a rooster head up to me and made a rooster noise I knew I could scratch one off the list.
Unfortunately that list kept contracting. One of the dogs was old and the merciful thing was done. That left Wholly with her two puppies. I don't think I've ever gotten to play with puppies before. It was just one of those things I new I'd like. Fleas and all. But the puppies found a new home and that was for the best. Wholly stayed.
I've bought about four boxes of milk bones, not just to see the look on the cashiers face: "Why would a tourist be buying dog biscuits?" but to give to the dogs. They didn't have the flavor I like.
This morning poor Wholly was lying in front of the back, upstairs door. She was alert, but not moving. Blood caked into her fur, and fresh blood at the tips of the hair. She won't eat and only stood for a short while. Panthers and leopards do roam this area and it's not an unjustifiable guess by Martin, though I hope he was wrong. There was no trail of blood, so I'm hopeful that the wound is superficial and she's still in shock. She's at my back door now, see what I can do.