This will make you say "aawwwh"!
Hi All - I too am a doggie person and just took my two for a walk this lovely sunny Sunday. Sadly my beloved Springer Spaniel died in the spring of this year, so just the two dogs now, but I thought you might like to hear a heartwarmer this Sunday morning (well, it's morning here anyway!)
Fifteen years ago in early December when I was living with my ex-husband in Scotland, our house burned to the ground, totally lost everything. Devastated, we moved in with family and friends rallied round to help us. One couple invited us over on Boxing Day and they bred pedigree Yorkshire Terriers. They had a litter of pups born the previous day, Christmas Day, and they put one of the little pups in my hand, 24 hours old, tiny scrap of life. A few weeks later, they asked if we would like one of the pups, maybe help us get over our troubles and start fresh. We agreed, and when we moved into our new house, our new little puppy boy moved in with us. Over the years my husband developed a severe alcohol problem, see this story is relevant! Unfortunatley, I joined him on the rocky road on the "if you can't beat them, join them basis" - many of you will know about that one! Anyway, the marriage died and he walked out talking my little dog with him (we had no kids and this little pooch was my baby) - I never saw the little fella again.
Years passed and I had moved to England with my now husband, lovely man, and through some strange circumstances, my ex-husband's sister contact me again. She told me that the wee dog was with her, alive and well, my ex-husband had decided the wee fella didn't fit in with his rock & roll lifestyle - too drunk or hungover to look after the wee guy - so dumped him on my sister-in-law. Too late for me, but I was happy to hear that my wee boy was alive and well and being looked after properly.
Fast forward to December last year, my sister-in-law, still keeping in touch, phoned in great distress to say that her family was being threatened and victimised in their neighbourhood and they must get away from Scotland as soon as possible. But they couldn't take the dog, and no-one wanted him now that he was old, and he would now have to be put to sleep. I quickly explained to my husband and with no hesitation he said "No way - he's coming here - make arrangements with her now". So, early December last year, my wee boy came home to me - he's 15 years old, a wee bit deaf, and big bit daft, and we all love him dearly. I never thought I would see him again, and now every day I look at him lying in his wee bed, fast asleep, happy, safe and well, and I count my blessings. I hope he sees his 16th birthday this Christmas Day, and maybe even the next, but that doesn't matter, he's here back with me where he always belonged.
Sorry for the long ramble - and by the way, stop snivelling and pull yourself together!!!
Love and stuff to all MWO folks, but special waggy tails to the doggie ones!!
Tartan:l
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