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. 

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One Response to “Oh, that damned dog”


  1. Mickey, you know you love him, you sly dog, lol. “Like” this post all you want – I know what that translates too. ❤ Shooter sleeps between us every night. I blame you.

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