pet stories

A pound in Utah was so full it sent some of its puppies to another pound in Salt Lake City, in the hope they might be adopted. We had been using Pet Finder for several months, searching for a Corgi mix puppy, when we came upon Chaco’s picture. We had run into some trouble previously with shelters not wanting to adopt out-of-state, so we tried not to get our hopes up. The lady at the pound told us that Chaco had been ‘viewed’ by potential families but was still available. He had to be adopted by the end of the week or his time was up.

From the blog: 3 Woofs and The WooTWoo

It’s hard to believe that in just a few short months, Tweed will be 10 years old. To the unfamiliar eye, he looks like a young adult dog, and nobody ever guesses he’s more than 5 years old. Even I forget he’s not 5 years old.

Watching him age has been both beautiful and painful. I did not get the chance to embrace Briggs’ aging process … he was an old soul from the time he was small, and his health problems aged him faster than he deserved, or I could believe. He was always an old dog, to me, and I lost him when he was not yet 11 years old.

The day my life changed for the better was the day I met Killian, my Border Collie Angel. I have always loved animals, but I didn't know anything about Border Collies. A friend of mine was a breeder and she had her first litter. On impulse, I had to buy one.

This little puppy, known as King of the Pups, attached to me immediately. I would lie down on the floor and he would lie on my chest. If I left the room, he would cry until I returned. It didn’t matter if someone was in the room with him or not. I felt the pull on my heart strings. Little did I know that I was making such huge investment in myself.

Our Lab Betsy had delivered her litter of four pups and there was an air of anticipation all around. But I was uneasy. Betsy, in her newly upgraded status, presented the perfect picture of motherhood, carefully and fiercely protective of her pups and generally looking at everybody with that serene, tender look that only new mothers seem to have. Tiny furry balls of a mixture of white and fawn, like their mother-they were almost alike in colour and size. Two weeks to go for the pups to open their eyes into their new world, all the while feeding on Mamma’s milk and so there was nothing for us to do.

I always wanted a collie, ever since seeing Lassie as a little girl. So when Mom died and left me a little money I looked for a collie puppy. I finally found one puppy, who was born the very day Mom died. The breeder told me she was a trouble-maker, but I didn't care.

I named her Leah. She did prove to be trouble, always sticking that long nose where it didn't belong and constantly escaping. But one day she proved to be my hero.

I had been having back pain and was in and out of the hospital for it with no results. I was laying in bed and Leah kept poking my back with her nose and grumbling and growling.

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I wanted to share with you the story of my precious little dog "Scooter". He was born with his two front legs missing. One day I received a phone call from my aunt who raises hairless chihuahuas. She informed me that one of her dogs had three pups and that two of them were missing their front legs. After a few hours, one of the pups passed on but the other seemed to be doing okay. She figured no one would want the little guy.

I told her that we would take him. I have a child with special needs and figured it would be good for her to have a "special" dog like her. I took the pup, hoping I could give him a somewhat normal life. We had no idea what was in store for us.

Today, glorious Friday. I only had a few pesos on me so Julieta (a girl I work with) and I decided to go get a sandwich. As we turn the corner something organish-brown catches my eye. To my horror, a dog is lying on the street - on his side with all four legs outstretched - next to the curb.

"Oh my God Julieta look at that dog!?! Is it dead?!?!"

"It must be sick or dead, a healthy dog doesn't lie in the street like that."

I stand aghast watching people literally walk over the sick dog that blocks their path. I rush to it - I have to get it out of the street, I have to save this helpless animal. Julieta and I call to the dog - veni perro, veni! I whistle, squeal, make every and any annoying sound I can think of but the dog doesn't move.

I was about five when I first saw it. My mother, my sisters and I were driving in my mother's mini van to Idaho Falls. It was either December or January, snow was on the ground but the roads had been plowed and sanded. Somewhere between Boise and Twin Falls, I saw a big white wolf standing next to the road. The wolf stared right at me, it's eyes were golden. It looked at me like it just knew. My mother never saw the black ice and the minivan lost control, crossed the median and hit a pickup truck head on. None of us were harmed and other than some small pieces of glass in my sister and my mother's hair, there wasn't a scratch on us.

I wasn't really looking to adopt a new dog. But the search to adopt the perfect cat for my 18-year-old daughter had weakened my resistance and before I knew it I was reading the rescue boards again, this time looking for a dog.

Perhaps it was the loss of our 16-year-old Silky Terrier or perhaps it was the fact that my last and youngest child was moving out to her first apartment. Perhaps it was a middle age crisis or the realization that the title Senior Citizen was looming closer. Whatever the reason, the more I read the more tragedy I found and those old feelings that I had when I worked in the shelter came flooding back. So many needing homes, not enough to go around.