My best guess is that they were used over and over to produce puppies to make money.
That’s not the end of their story.
At ages thirteen and ten, they were surrendered to a shelter and requested to be euthanized probably because they couldn’t have more puppies, maybe for health issues; one has a mass on her side, both have dry skin patches and watering eyes.
That’s not the end of their story.
At the shelter, it was decided they deserve to live out their senior years being loved for exactly who they are, not for what they can offer.
Rescued Pets Movement agreed and asked someone to foster them in Houston. One of the greatest women I know agreed and said, “They’re coming home with me!”
RPM shared their information with our partners in Colorado. A rescue there also agreed they deserve a wonderful future and said, “Send them to us!”
When they rounded the corner of the building to get on their van on transport day, the volunteers broke into applause. Everyone gathered around their foster and these two grande dames and gave all three of them as much love as could be given. (Foster parents need love, too!)
There were lots of tears and laughter as they finally settled into their crates for their long ride.
They’re going to have a happily ever after, these two, for the rest of their days.
Here you go, Lynne. I found it where I hoped it was.
This is a quilt Mother made in the early 1980s. Many of us signed squares for her. Some drew pictures. She embroidered those pictures and signatures to make them permanent–in some cases more permanent than the people who were part of our lives in those years. I’ll probably photograph individual squares of this and post them over time. But not all of them because it’s good to let sleeping dogs lie (thought not on this quilt!).
Today is my friend Riley’s birthday. I miss him so much. I want to read a new poem from him, hear a new song, and tell him all the ideas I have in my head for things I want to write, the main one using our adolescence together in a ghost story.
Tom and I started going through those bins on our carport that so desperately need purging. I have an action plan for some of them, so I’m on my way. But mostly I wanted to find all my Riley correspondence. It stretches back more years than I will admit to. I’m lucky that he liked to draw and write and gave me so much of his work.
None of his stuff, of course, is part of the purge. Somebody else can trash it after I’m gone. It still means too much to me.
I love you, John Riley. Thank you for an amazing history.
Tom has a knack for finding random things on the ground and making them into little gifts. Usually they’re something from nature. But a tiny toy is always welcome.
Today is my mother’s birthday. She’d have been 91. That astonishes me. I have stories of her from every age, including her childhood during the Depression. Her great joy was being able to go to a Shirley Temple movie with her brother for a nickel. Toys were things she and her six brothers and five sisters made out of whatever they could find. A stick became a sword for a fencing match. A scrap of fabric and some straw became a doll. They hung vines from trees to swing on and play Tarzan.
I’ll bet something like this little guy, dropped in a parking lot and left behind, would have been a treasure to them.
Related: Happy birthday, Timmy! A treasure to all who know you.
Back in October, Timothy J. Lambert was raising money for Rescued Pets Movement’s Strut Your Mutt campaign. Near the end of the fundraiser, he promised that I’d name a rescued pet after any new donors.
I thought I wrote all the contributors’ names down, but I can’t find them. Yet.
Fortunately I did remember one of his donors, a friend of Tim’s since they were teenagers. In time, I found the BARC dog who I wanted to bear her name. This week, she transported to Colorado to her new life.
Meet Tim with Amy Fagan. Happy future, sweet girl! And thank you, human Amy, for helping make Tim’s fundraiser and RPM’s campaign a success! I know you love animals, and you make a difference every day with your advocacy and your compassion.
Anime has had a rough two weeks. She hasn’t felt well and has had to endure several vet visits as we tried to find out what might be wrong.
Now we have a diagnosis and a treatment plan, and she’s already doing better. She’s my little soul dog (even though she really does like Tom better, the brat). It’s going to be wonderful to watch her become her old self and know that thanks to medicine and conscientious vets, she can live a good, long life.