Pets

and they all came to us as "throwaways." We lived one block from the local pound, so they dumped them up the hill where all the kids play. We lived at the bottom of the hill. One "dumping" was a box full of about 8 week old black puppies. Luckily, by the time I realized I really wanted one to keep as my own, they'd all found homes.

But one of the best dogs I've ever had was a scrawny, mangy dog someone had dumped some months prior. He finally found his way to my house. Took me about six months to get him to trust me enough to let me feed him by hand and pet him. I thought at first he was some kind of afghan hound... he was that scrawny looking. One of the things he did that broke my heart was when I gave him a big dog Milk bone, he took it and ran to the side of the house and buried it. He was still afraid the food wasn't going to keep coming.

Just before Christmas that year, I finally got him to follow me into the house, to the warmth of the fireplace, and out of the snow. We took him to the vet and had him treated for worms (including heartworm), and severe mange. There were more than a few other treatments we had to give him, he really was a mess. But, oh, did he pay me back many times over!

Turns out this scrawny dog, when loved, fed, and properly cared for was a Leonburgher! He was huge! And he protected me like nothing else ever had (except for one attack cat who went flying across the room at someone he didn't like). Yet he was totally gentle and loving to all my cats.

He also taught himself to "help" me... he'd bring me things when I was having a hard time walking. He even found a way to help me get up off the floor when hubby would rub my back. I was making plans to take enroll him as a "therapy" dog in hospitals and nursing homes. He had the perfect temperament for it.

I always dread Christmas now. I lost him on Christmas day, three years ago. I bless the day he came into my life, and curse those who could take such a sweet, loving soul and treat him so badly. He'd been abused, we discovered... the first time we asked him to "sit" the look of fright in his face was horrible to see. I still miss him so bad, it hurts like hell.

There'll never be another one like him in my life. Last year, we adopted a dog who'd been adopted out prior every month for the past three months, and returned each time. While I understand why, she's still with us... she's part of our family and we're her pack. As she grows older, I hope she'll settle down enough I can walk her. She weighs 100 lbs. I don't weigh quite 90 lbs. and she's already broken my leg once! Too much size and energy for this old lady. But love will find a way, I gotta believe! (LOL)

There's something very special about the critters we rescue. They know, and they try extra hard for us, I believe. In return, we love them even more. And the holes they leave in our hearts when they cross the bridge never quite seem to heal. Take the pearly gates all you want. Give me the Rainbow Bridge and the babies who've gone before me, along with the energy to play with them once again. That's my heaven.