Oh, that damned dog
November 28, 2011
A little over one year ago, I cried for a month. A solid month. The little puppy I’d found on the street and fostered through SPAR (Saving Pets At Risk, Shawnee, OK) had been adopted and was gone from my life. I wasn’t sure I would recover, but then a miracle occurred: His foster dad called me and asked if I’d take the puppy back. Well, duh!
I couldn’t imagine why anyone would give back a puppy as marvelous as my Shooter. Welll…one year later, I sort of understand. The little booger has eaten his way through several sets of sheets (600 thread count, mind you!), the remains of a love seat that our lab got tired of gnawing, a dozen shoes and several pairs of jeans.
He is the spawn of Satan. And I wouldn’t give him up for the world.