RESCUE DOGS ARE THE BOMB
A few years ago, after our sweet old dog, Sam, passed away, I decided I wanted another puppy. After convincing my wife it was a good idea (I think she was asleep when we talked about it), I went online and found a dog I thought would be a good fit for us on the website PetFinder.com. Unfortunately, when I inquired about her, she had already been adopted. Well, unfortunately for me, fortunately for her and her “forever family”. The woman I had been in touch with about that dog emailed me out of the blue one day to tell me she had a pup I might be interested in. A few pictures and emails later, our Molly was loaded into a truck in Louisiana and brought to us. (The outfit that transports the dogs is called Rescue Road Trips and they are absolutely wonderful, by the way. I discovered that there are tons of dogs down south in search of homes, not that it mattered to us where she was coming from.)
Anyway, on what RRT refers to as “Gotcha Day”, we drove to Putnam, Connecticut to meet the truck, along with a bunch of other families. I felt like we were making a drug deal; ‘meet us behind the Shell station in the WalMart parking lot...’ When Molly was carried off the truck, I thought they sent the wrong dog. She was about half as big as I expected her to be. In fact, she was so tiny that one of my daughters had to go into WalMart and buy her a cat collar because the dog collar we had bought her would have fit around her belly. But, she was beautiful, and friendly, and happy.
Now, three and a half years later, Molly is the most spoiled dog I’ve ever owned (yes, it’s mostly my fault), but she’s a very intelligent, lovable, goofball who has me wrapped around her little……paw? She has a lot of odd little quirks; she lets us know when the cat wants to go out or come in, she has a “bread dance” that she does when she wants a slice, and, when I call out “supper”, she runs to get my wife. She also has her own little OCD moments; when you pour food into her bowl, she pokes it with her nose until it's level, then walks away. Very strange.
If you’re thinking about getting a pooch, please think about a rescue dog. They’re all that and a bag of chips.
A few years ago, after our sweet old dog, Sam, passed away, I decided I wanted another puppy. After convincing my wife it was a good idea (I think she was asleep when we talked about it), I went online and found a dog I thought would be a good fit for us on the website PetFinder.com. Unfortunately, when I inquired about her, she had already been adopted. Well, unfortunately for me, fortunately for her and her “forever family”. The woman I had been in touch with about that dog emailed me out of the blue one day to tell me she had a pup I might be interested in. A few pictures and emails later, our Molly was loaded into a truck in Louisiana and brought to us. (The outfit that transports the dogs is called Rescue Road Trips and they are absolutely wonderful, by the way. I discovered that there are tons of dogs down south in search of homes, not that it mattered to us where she was coming from.)
Anyway, on what RRT refers to as “Gotcha Day”, we drove to Putnam, Connecticut to meet the truck, along with a bunch of other families. I felt like we were making a drug deal; ‘meet us behind the Shell station in the WalMart parking lot...’ When Molly was carried off the truck, I thought they sent the wrong dog. She was about half as big as I expected her to be. In fact, she was so tiny that one of my daughters had to go into WalMart and buy her a cat collar because the dog collar we had bought her would have fit around her belly. But, she was beautiful, and friendly, and happy.
Now, three and a half years later, Molly is the most spoiled dog I’ve ever owned (yes, it’s mostly my fault), but she’s a very intelligent, lovable, goofball who has me wrapped around her little……paw? She has a lot of odd little quirks; she lets us know when the cat wants to go out or come in, she has a “bread dance” that she does when she wants a slice, and, when I call out “supper”, she runs to get my wife. She also has her own little OCD moments; when you pour food into her bowl, she pokes it with her nose until it's level, then walks away. Very strange.
If you’re thinking about getting a pooch, please think about a rescue dog. They’re all that and a bag of chips.