Frida y Diego

This is the story of Frida y Diego and of new beginnings, happy endings, and MORE new beginnings. This is the story of fostering and adoption and changing lives.

In the beginning, there were 11 puppies from a black lab mix, Shanti, (since spayed, fortunately) and Pancho or Lew (since learning that a female dog can be impregnated by more than one male).

The human family, unable to keep these eleven babies, began gifting them out.  One by one these pups reappeared on or near the beach, abandoned and starving.  Clearly, these gifts were not well received or much appreciated.  In my post, Semana de Animales, you saw Paloma and Starlet, sisters from this litter (Starlet shown below).  There was a third sister also found and all three were spayed and have been adopted.

Paloma (above) is being held off flea-ridden dirt, having just gotten 6 baths from friend Tuck… Starlet was starving, then found a month ago on a Sayulita beach during Semana Santa. Neighbor Leyla rescued her and serendipitously re-united her with sister Paloma.

The very day Paloma and Starlet arrived to their new homes in California, another brother and sister were about to be abandoned by a rancher who had taken them four weeks earlier in a gesture of goodwill as they were going to be tossed into a dumpster.   However, he did not want to keep these babies. Puppies are a handful and neighborhood children were throwing rocks at them to “correct” their puppy behavior. Around 3 months puppies begin to develop their real personalities and build the courage to take some risks, thus making them unmanageable for those who don’t understand that this period is also when they are ready to learn to be dogs; and given good circumstances they are also ready to be the most loyal, loving, life companions for the human that is willing to love and lead them.

Sara, founder of SayulitAnimals and the rancher’s neighbor, offered to have them spayed and neutered on Saturday, April 27.  But without a foster, they would be kenneled at SayulitAnimals (where they would be separated and alone for much of the week given how SA is a clinic not a shelter) or sent back to the flea-infested, rock-throwing ranch until a foster home could be found.

Enter Scott and Kenda who couldn’t bear the idea of these pups being anywhere but a warm, comfy, well-fed, loving home. While only originally planning to foster one puppy, we realized that separating the two after the trauma of surgery could be detrimental to their emotional health.

On Saturday, April 27, I spent the day at SayulitAnimals to help Tuck with the recovery of Frida and Diego’s spay and neutering.  Two others dogs and a kitten were getting operations as well.  Little did I understand the tasks involved.  I was feeling helpless with what seemed like an utterly foreign process.  Thanks be to Dio for Tuck and her expertise.  She operated like a first-class vet tech preparing Frida as Diego was under the knife.  For at least 45 minutes, Tuck took a fine tooth comb (literally, it was a small comb with fine teeth) pulling out the fleas and worse yet, flea nests.  Has anyone else every heard of such a thing – flea nests?  The fleas build nests in the skin of animals – particularly those that are exposed and neglected – and dozens of flea babies emerge to feast on the blood of these poor creatures.  It’s disturbing and revolting.  Removing the nests results in a hole.  So far, one week later, the holes have healed but the hair hasn’t grown back.  I suspect the hair follicles are no mas and these puppies will have the tiniest patches of post-flea nest markings.  I see it as a badge of honor for overcoming a horrid past and emerging into a happier, healthier, shinier, new beginning.

Seeing both of them come out of recovery, was a relief.  Diego was finished first.  He lay there motionless as Tuck worked on him with some minor assistance on my part.  Washless shampoo, flea removal, cleaning out his filthy ears (I carried out this task – pulling out black soot-like dirt ), and cleaning up the incision.  My main job was to keep him warm, so snuggling was my major task.  He was just coming out of his anesthesia in a groggy fog when Frida was brought to the table. Clearly concerned, he leaned over to sniff her and gently touching her with his paw, he whimpered ever so slightly.  Another reminder that animals worry and feel and love and care.

How I can describe the past two weeks in a few short paragraphs is beyond my capabilities, I fear.  The fear is more for the reader having to endure my long-windedness not for my utter pleasure in relaying the message.

With both pups in recovery and I confused, overwhelmed, and otherwise incompetent with regards to assisting Tuck because of the thunderous and continuous recording in my head holy crap.  Scott and I are now responsible for the lives of these two puppies.    Solace came with the single-minded thought that any loving, foodful, compassionate home is better than the fate these pups once had.  That became my mantra.

Having passed hands at least twice before and nearly being tossed in a dumpster were it not for a rancher named Martin who stepped in, these pups have survived.  And one day with a pack family showing the reciprocal love they so easily offer, Frida and Diego will thrive.

Managing to load the pups, a colossal crate, a dog bed, and ourselves into Tuck’s golfcart, we gingerly took the drive home as not to disturb their fresh incisions.  Frida was clearly unwell.   We placed her in the soft, quiet, bed, and she slept throughout the day.  Diego, on the other hand, was ready to party.  Sniffing about as if he was in a canine candyland, he explored his new surroundings.  It took all of about 35 seconds for him to adopt us as his new pack.  Underfoot wherever we went, which is a challenge considering Scott and I don’t necessarily walk to the same places around our casa at the same time.  It must’ve felt a bit bipolar to Diego as he was figuring out in his own puppy way how to attach himself to the both of us and to Stella.

If Stella’s eyes had words, they would’ve been:WTH have you done to me?  You have ruined my life, parents. I know you don’t love me anymore.  I know it!

We took her spoiled, small, world and expanded it exponentially with two new babies, and babies that needed a lot of attention the first few days.  She was unhappy and outwardly wanted nothing to do with either of them from Saturday through about Tuesday.  I did, however, witness her surreptitiously checking with sneak sniffs on these new babies in her casa.  And one time she nudged Frida away from a dangerous ledge in our home.  Stella showed some of her own caring, maternal, instincts.  We were so proud of her. Maybe she has some odd recollection that she, too, was once an abandoned puppy.

Looking back, the first week was a chaotic blur of feeding (they needed to get some quick puppy meat and nourishment on those bony, malnourished, bodies), peeing, pooping, washing towels, keeping incisions clean, feeding, cleaning up puddles of pee and piles of poo, removing, replacing, or otherwise hiding hazards, and giving lots and lots of love.  We tried to institute potty training right away but with two of them, at the beginning, it was impossible at best.  On any given day and once Frida was feeling better, which took all of about 24 hours, they headed in different directions when not wrestling and chomping on one-another or snoozing.

Picture holding a large container of precious marbles at the top of a steep, paved hill – like Telegraph Hill in San Francisco, for instance, then dump the marbles out of the container and see how quickly you can collect each one before they break, roll into a ditch, or hit the bottom of the street.  Each marble choosing its own direction, some bouncing, some flying through the air, others getting stuck in crevices, while the majority yanked by the undisciplined hands of gravity, roll wildly and aimlessly about.   If you were a mosquito on the wall of our casa, that’s what it probably looked like as Scott and I scrambled about endeavoring to care for all their needs, removing the hazards on the fly, and cleaning up after them.  Pillows flying off of the sofa in the playful romp of two 12-week-old puppies, mouths enveloping things that we didn’t even know existed, and random, gratuitous bodily functions filled our every waking moment.  In actuality, our floors have never been cleaner now with a bucket of treated water and a mop accessorizing our décor.

The only reason I’m able to write at this very moment is because of the much appreciated naptime, it would otherwise take me about 20 minutes to draft a simple email.  Much to my chagrin, these pups don’t sleep as hard as they play.  Like most dogs, they snooze with one ear cocked at all times ready to protect and play.  Heads lift in alerted concern while eyes still droopy with remnants of slumber.

Esta bien, we whisper softly.  It was just a donkey.  Go back to sleep….sleeeeeeep.  Yesssss…..we whisper.  Sleeeeep.  Good sleep.  Gooooood.

The head eases back, bellies turn upside down and legs flop lazily in the air.  Back to peaceful siesta.  We tip toe around trying to go about our normal business.  Opening the refrigerator door ever so quietly.  Turning on our computers in another room to muffle the sound that will surely raise curiosity.  Grabbing some quick nosh quietly chewing, opening the squeaky closet door with the stealth of a jewelry thief hoping to not get caught doing something too interesting, or gently putting down the toilet seat as not to inspire peeks into the well of odorific delight.  Turns out, in puppy world, word on the street is that drinking from a toilet bowl brings about eternal youth.  Every puppy strives to drink the special elixir.

And then Angel or Gollo or some other dog at Rancho Manuel across the way barks.  Damnit.  Shhhh…..shhhhhh…too late.  Puppies up and ready to romp.

Alert and ready to pounce, they have arisen.  There is ALWAYS a pee after a nap and a big drink of water.  Being slow learners, we finally picked up on this valuable lesson.  After several days, we mastered the specific pees and poops.  For the first two days, between the two pups, we were cleaning up at least 20 messes each day.  Given we have no yard, it’s out to the street on leashes.  Never ever ever foster a puppy if you don’t have a yard.

Now, now, we’re learning their habits.  Two pees for Diego and one for Frida first thing in the morning upon awaking.   Pee #1 – GOOD GO PEE Diego!  GOOD GO PEE Frida.  Pee #2 – GOOD GO PEE Diego!  Treats, wiggles, love.  Diego is so very proud of himself when he nails it.  With a poop soon to follow, we wait it out.  Standing in the cobblestoned street hair unkempt, teeth unbrushed, still in boxers (that’s both of us, I sleep in boxers too) and tee shirts.

**Donkey next door brays **
C’mon donkey.  Give us a rest already!  Rest.  We all need rest. (I’m writing this during nap time)

Frida is much more of a private potty girl.  With the patience of Mother Teresa, we wait it out because standing in the street with criss-cross leashes is still less frustrating than washing the floor.  And frankly, we aim to have them trained before they get to their forever homes.  Three pees down and time for a poop.  More patience.  More standing.

One is finished and ready to rock n’ roll.  The other still sniffing around looking for that perfect spot.  The spot that will feel the very very very most comfortable.  The spot that says, yes, I’ve been waiting for you.  We wait with great anticipation.  Dare I say baited breath?  Yes, I dare.  Still deciphering between the sniff of potty zone and the sniff of curious thing zone, we are unsure of when the exact moment will arrive.  But when it does, when everyone has found his or her spot, and when that grand moment occurs, it’s one big fiesta.  Who would’ve thought that urinating and defecating would become the main topic of our discussions?  We have digressed into a vortex of pee and poo patheticness.  I’m not even certain that’s a word, and I’m much too tired to check.  Eventually, we learned a better location for them to do their business, and potty training is getting easier.

In the beginning, Diego had a ravenous appetite.  I fretted over that given this behavior could lead to food aggression.  Noticing that Frida was considerably thinner, I wasn’t surprised when I watched Diego eat.  She, more like Stella, nibbled through her kibble.  Diego took one giant inhale like an industrial vacuum.  But when I saw the two of them switch back and forth between bowls, great comfort set in.  They know how to share.  Either that, or they wanted the assurance of receiving the same food. Within the first two days, Diego must have had the realization there would be enough….enough food, enough love, enough water, enough love again, we saw him ease into himself.  He slowed down his eating sometimes to the point of leaving food in his bowl and walking away.  We took the food away  – while he was eating – replacing it with a treat just to ensure that he wouldn’t have any issues with possession.  No problema.

One of the numerous problems we did have to overcome was their taste for horse crap. I suppose having lived on a ranch with not much else to eat, they both acquired a taste for the stuff. Image our surprise when we took them outside for the very first time and in less than a second they both honed in on the pile of horse crap that was just feet away from the front door. Before it even registered in my brain, it was gone. We had a similar problem with Stella when she was a puppy. But instead of horse crap, she liked the taste of her own poop. We solved the problem with cayenne pepper. Sprinkle it on and watch the behavior stop. That worked for Diego and Frida too.

And then there’s bedtime.

Night #1:  All five of us loaded in the small bedroom, Diego in the crate, Frida on her bed (too sick to be crated according to us), Scott, Stella and I in our bed.  Diego howled and cried and barked and whimpered.  He threw himself against the crate creating a banging sound that would make the exorcist’s head spin.  I’m not sure who was in more pain – he in all his separated misery or we in a surreal dream riddled with cacophony.

Recalling all those years of childcare since the age of 12, I remembered that waiting it out is the best thing for all of us.  Painful.  What felt like three hours was really only 20 minutes or so.  He cried himself to sleep.  The thought of that made me want to pull him out of there and snuggle.  But the wiser me stepped in and yelled, Refrain!  Refrain!  Refrain!  And am I glad I listened to…well, myself.  With only two horrendous nights (the second with Frida in a crate as well and we timed 15 minutes flat of outrageously loud behaviors) and the fret that we had many bedtime hardships ahead of us, the remaining nights both pups went into their crates, whimpered, pawed at their crate doors, and fell into a 7-hour slumber that can only be had by pups who feel safe in their dens.

Now, Diego walks right into his crate and settles in.  The only thing we hear are the sounds of stretching and contentment.  Nary a whimper during the night, we awaken to tails beating with joyful rhythm against plastic walls of security.

Despite the hassle of getting them out the door first thing, I cherish those first 59 seconds.  Being greeted with utter joy and outrageous excitement that forces their little bodies into a fishtail.  They practically hydroplane.  If the pups had words, I imagine they would be something to the effect of:

Is it you?  Is it REALLLLLLY you?  I haven’t seen you in AGES!  Where have you been all this time?  Okay. Okay!  Let’s go!  Let’s start our fun Fun FUN day together!  We are going to have the BEST day in the history of all time – of all the calendars that were ever made since the days they had to draw those funny pictures on rocks, TODAY is going to be the very very very very best one – EVER!  C’mon!  Let’s go!

How I admire their curiosity.  Seriously, everything is fascinating.  A leaf elicits the inquisitiveness of a great philosopher.  It may very well be the most amazing thing in their world at the moment as it gently floats onto the floor (which leaves do here given our open home).  Imagine Aristotle, Socrates, or Plato studying the leaf, pondering its existential existence or physical properties or position according to the moon.  This is what Frida and Diego do in their own puppy way.  And forget about all the cool things that preserve our scents.  Feet.  The best possible odor to a dog.  At least, our feet appear to be, which would surprise anyone who really knows me (ask my sisters).  Shoes.  Yum.  They say that to a dog, taking a shoe and chomping on it is the equivalent of humans carrying around photos of their loved ones.  Whatever.  That endearing notion does not bring the shoe back to functionality.

Some of the many things we have learned:
1) Puppies will find anything you don’t want them to find.
2) When they come hobbling over to you because they were knocked down, a hardy sniff up and down their bodies followed by a soft pat of the butt and a “you’re okay” sends them off running again.
3) Watching a dog walk on grass for the first time is highly amusing and outrageously endearing.
4) Do not take a dog to a place that is adjacent to another place with barbed wire, because anything behind the barbed wire will always be more interesting than those things that are located where you want the dog to play.

And they want to know all about everything in their surroundings.  If it can’t be tasted, it can surely be smelled.  If smelling doesn’t work, then it is pawed.  I can almost see those neurons firing and gray matter developing.  And if Stella’s curiosity is sparked then everyone’s gotta see what’s going on.  They follow her like she is Cleopatra.  She is a queen to be revered.  And while she may create some strict boundaries for them with a low growl or the slightest lift of her lip displaying a shiny white tooth or two, they watch and listen and learn from her.  I’ve witnessed on many occasions, Stella keeping them out of harm’s way.

By the way, I just pulled Diego out of the wash basket.  The other day, I found him on the bed, surrounded by my undies. Undies that were ah hem in the dirty wash basket. Two of three of them have teeth marks. I wear them anyway.

Later that first week, Marco Ojeda, the dog whisperer from Guadalajara came to town to teach us how to train our dogs.  In actuality, he came to train us.  Marco spent three hours at our house teaching us about dog communication and how to modify behaviors.  It was incredible, and we were able to apply his lessons right away.  I can now leave my flipflops on the floor without Diego touching them.  We can eat dinner on the sofa, with food on the table, and he maintains a healthy distance of about 2 feet.  We’re all growing together. MANY thanks to Marco!

Frida departed with her new family, Andy and Debs on Saturday, one week from the day we were graced with her presence.  It was a day of mixed emotions.  We were happy for the fact she was adopted by a wonderful pack that is sure to give her a healthy, safe, and very loving home.  It was sad for us to say good-bye.  We’re grown attached to her sweet and gentle nature.  And there has also been an ever-so-slight trace of relief.  Given the challenge of ‘raising’ two puppies, we can now focus our efforts on one.

Trouble in Paradise

That same day, I took Diego to the vet to receive his first dose of vaccinations.  Leaving the vets office, Diego stopped to give some lovin’ to a young woman sitting on a stoop only doors away.  I was startled by a very disheveled man who approached us, ranting something something mi perro, Negro, something something.  He had a rope around his wrist.  Leaning down, he reached for Diego’s collar.  Tugging at it, I realized he didn’t stop to pet Diego, he stopped to take him away from me.

Soundless, Diego tried to resist him by pulling back towards me.  I pulled Diego away and told the man to go away.  He told me to chinga me madre several times among other indecipherable words.  Clearly, he was very angry or very loco or high.  He walked away ranting.  I rounded the corner – the road that goes up to the stairs that lead up to Gringo Hill.  It’s where the chicken lady and her entourage hang out.  Walking away and feeling discombobulated, unclear about what the hell just happened, I turned to find the man there again.  Following us.  He lunged for Diego, who I quickly scooped up.  I, walking backwards, loco man grabs Diego’s leg and proceeds to yank on it.  I’m YELLING, NO!  NO!  Alto!  GO AWAY!  In very poor Spanish, I might add. Desperately looking around, I witness a half of dozen people staring at me and doing absolutely NOTHING.  One man – the guy who cleans the chickens, stood on his stoop, looking amused.

I yelled, AYUDARME!  AYUDARME!

Nada.  I don’t remember the next few seconds.  I either pushed the man away or took back Diego’s leg from his grip.  All the while, Diego hiding his face in the crease of my elbow, the only expressions of his fear were his rapidly beating heart, his trembling body, and his pee that spilled over the two of us.  I took off, running, with this 11.2 K dog (he was just weighed at the vets), tearing up the stairs.  Stopping at the top to catch my breath and cautiously looking around, I realized loco guy didn’t follow us.  I put Diego down, but he wasn’t ready to relax.  Still on his leash, he took off leading the two of us all the way home – running.  Somehow, despite the fact this was his first time down the hill, he knew exactly where to go and how to get himself home, running, the entire way.  We came home, shaken, and I in tears.  All I could muster to Scott in between gasps, Diego and I just had a terrible experience.

And that poor baby and I both smelled like his urine stained with the scent of fear.  My heart was broken that he had to endure more trauma.

I could tell by the way Scott was looking at me that he was gravely concerned about the situation.  He asked me to slow down and tell him what happened.  I did.  I described the man.  Scott departed so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to ask him where he was going.  My Scott.  This sweet, gentle, guy.  I fretted and waited and wondered.  Was Scott going to end up in a Mexican pinky?  Scott found him, and the guy was still ranting.  Scott got the police involved, and I frankly, don’t know what happened next.  Supposedly, this guy is known in town for being unstable and had a puppy named Negro who looks similar to Diego.  Having since seen a photo, I can see some resemblance, but Negro is much boxier than Diego not to mention that Diego has been neutered.

The one thing I do know – I want to get Diego out of Sayulita.  This issue of mistaken identity by a violent locoman is a risk to Diego’s well-being. I want him far away from this town and that nutty man.

The loss of his sister, shots and the threat of this locoman = not a great day for Diego.  He stayed very close to me the rest of that day, and I didn’t have the courage, myself, to leave the house for a few days.

Fortunately, some options for Diego including two rescue groups – one in Alberta, Canada and one in San Francisco, have emerged.   While the best option for him is to get a direct adoption with a loving and compassionate human pack, we will be grateful for any healthy and loving possibility that gets him out of town.  Unfortunately, those two good options are several weeks away from coming to fruition.  Scott and I want to see this through as we have grown very attached to the little guy.

The day following Frida’s adoption, we received this message from Debs and Andy (with their permission to print):

Well I thought I’d let you know how our first puppy 24 hours has been. As you can imagine we’re both a little sleep deprived but have smiled more over the last 24 hours than the last 24 days I reckon. She is so beautiful. She was really good yesterday, pretty chilled out, lot’s of lying on the floor sleeping and following us around. Stuck like glue!!! So sweet her first visit to the yard. She hung by Andy then ran back upstairs and hid in the crate for a few minutes until she was brave enough to go back for round 2. The crate was a great idea as she was in and out of it yesterday, just when things were a little overwhelming and it was nice to see her spend less and less time in there as she got a bit more confident. She’s in the yard with no leash now but won’t go down there on her own bless.

Tried her in the crate last night and she howled and cried so badly, freaked out and was bashing around in there. She even set the dogs off across the road she was so loud. Needless to say we caved and she spent the night good as gold curled up behind our legs on the bed!!! We’ll ween her into her bed slowly as she settles in more. We’re such softies and it seemed a bad idea after how well she did accepting us as her new pack yesterday. She loves the sniffing eh??? God what a snuggler. I just hope poor little Diego finds somewhere soon. They’re both going to be such great dogs.

I’ll let you know when we get jabs done so they can meet up for some puppy play time.
Besos.
Xxx

And the next day:

Frida just took her first walk round the block on the leash with Andy. Got a little nervous as our neighbours dogs started to bark but was more frightened by an ATV going by. Obviously had a scary pup experience with a loud engine noise of some type.

We all slept really well last night………erm, well, erm ok maybe she did join us on the bed. I feel bad as you guys suffered the crate howling trauma and I feel we’ve kinda undone your good work a bit, but I know we’ll be the ones paying the price!!

I’ll let yyou know if she does anything spectacular today other than just being her beautiful not so little self……
Besos. Xx

Needless to say, Scott and I got a huge kick out of the fact that Frida is already snuggling up with them in bed.  As we told Debs and Andy, if we were keeping Frida y Diego as our permanent pack members, all five of us would be in that bed together.  But for now, we’re resisting the temptation with Diego as his forever pack family may prefer a crate-trained pooch.

In search of a forever home for Diego…

In the puppy realm of things, Diego is pretty chill.  We think about what a wild woman Stella was when she was a puppy.  He seems to take things in stride not spazzing when people walk by or when the water pump goes off.  It helps, now, I think, to have Stella around as she has grown into a fairly stable and calm dog.  She has a mellow bark, for the most part, and alerts us only when someone walks close to the front door.

I want others to know and experience this handsome boy, Diego.  He is growing more confident each day – we can see it.  And while this confidence sometimes manifests itself into higher risk-taking behavior, this is how it should be.  Now, Diego needs his new beginning.  He needs someone, who like us, will realize that he is a most amazing little being.  In all his puppy wonderfulness, he is clever and sweet, handsome and loving, naughty and rambunctious, playful and adorable, and clumsy and silly.  He likes his alone time and his snuggle time.  He likes to play and chill. Often finding him on the bed during the day, we sometimes let it slide since he sleeps in his crate at night.

And yes, he has some abandonment issues, we are working on building the stability needed for him to grow into a sound, adult dog.  He is ready to offer his unconditional love to whoever is ready to provide him a safe, loving, and compassionate home.  We need to know that he will go to a good home, because in many ways, we are just as attached to him as he to us.

A shining light at the end of our tunnel
Monday, May 13, 2013

Call it serendipity or synchronicity or fate or whatever, we have great news about Diego!

Everything you just read had been written during the past two+ weeks.  What I didn’t mention is that when we met up with Frida and her parents for the playdate this past weekend, we also met an awesome woman, Sarah, at the same beach- Los Muertos. She was there vacationing with her two best friends.

We arrived and passed by two beautiful, young women, chillin’ on the beach.  Clearly dog people, they took an interest and a liking to Diego listening intently to every detail of his story (that I told without taking a breath for fear of losing their attention). Diego clearly took a liking to them especially Sarah who recently had the thought that she was ready for another dog in her life. Without any hesitation, I felt that Diego belonged with Sarah.

Very long story short, Sarah, from San Diego is adopting Diego!   We feel so very fortunate that this awesome woman is bringing Diego into her home.  I know she will provide the best possible home for these sweet pups. This beautiful woman and her generous heart will turn the once harsh life of this puppy into a doggy fairyland, a happy, healthy, loving, home.

The irony is Diego had diarrhea that morning, and we were questioning whether it was a good idea to take him out.  But we figured the fun he would have with Frida outweighed the prospect of feeling unwell.  Add to it, we were originally going to meet at the main beach, yet Debs and Andy thought it best for Frida to go to Los Muertos.

Since Scott and I planned to have a quick return to San Diego before moving to San Miguel and in order to renew our tourist visas, we planned to transport El Diego ourselves next week.  How fortunate we are able to pass him from our arms to Sarah’s arms.  Add to it, we may even get the opportunity to visit Diego when we’re visiting San Diego!

Hear that light, airy, sound?  It’s my sigh of relief and joy.

And so it goes, like with all stories, this one comes to an end.  But this story, of Frida and Diego, begins all over again with their new lives in their new homes.  If only all puppies could be blessed with such happy new beginnings…the world twice over would be a much brighter place.

And here is a question I pose to all those who have taken abandoned dogs into your home:

When it comes to taking an abandoned dog into your loving home, the real question is: Who is rescuing who?

xo
Peace

When a man’s best friend is his dog, that dog has a problem.
~Edward Abbet

To err is human:To forgive, canine.
~Anonymous

There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.
~ Ben Williams

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principle difference between a dog and a man.
~Mark Twain