You are heredog stories
At 12:30 am on Tuesday, May 19, 2009 my best friend in the whole world, my 16 year old black Lab, Sugar, died in my arms. I don't have any close family so Sugar meant everything to me.
I knew a few days before she died that Sugar was very sick and might not live. I went to the local humane society to register to adopt a dog. I had adopted Sugar 10 years before.
One morning I got up and let the dogs out in the backyard about 5:30. I went back to bed for a bit. Then I got up, took a shower and started getting ready for the day. About an hour passed and I went to let them in... gate open... no dogs! Panic strikes! I jump in the car and go looking for them... stopping every garbage truck along the way to see if they have seen three beagles that looked like they were enjoying their new freedom. No such luck. After about an hour, I stopped in at home. Joey was sitting on the front step of the house (front yard) as if he had been there the whole time. Liar! Jorja and Jersey were still at large.
First & foremost, I am far from being a writer. I simply felt the need to write something to express gratitude for the selfless acts given by virtually an entire community of warm hearted people. Might I please first start by introducing myself? My name is Christopher LeBlanc. My family and I are from Central Massachusetts & I had occasion to be in Branford at my Mother-in-Laws house this past weekend, 11/13 through 11/15. Now my intentions were only to have a short visit on Saturday as my 11 year old daughter Rylee and I were making a stop off to show Mom-in-law & my Mom our newly adopted 6 & 1/2 month old Italian Greyhound/Jack Russell mix puppy.
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.
On a warm sunny afternoon in June 1999, my new family inched their way westward on the Long Island Expressway toward LaGuardia airport in Queens NY. Little did they know that we would soon meet their new relative that would forever change their lives. My plane from Tennessee taxied to the gate and I vividly remember how the little nine year old boy’s face lit up the moment he saw me and I felt the same about him. We were instantly best friends. They named me Munchkin. I was a tiny four-week-old black, white and yellow Havanese puppy (they soon discovered the yellow was ‘number 1’, from my trip, and they washed it off).
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.