People adopt animals all the time, probably most of you good folks among them.
There are thousands of great stories out there, but we can’t tell them all here today now, can we?
Of course not, but let’s try just one.
This is our Annie. Some of you have seen this photo before on Facebook or elsewhere, but I decided to trot it out again today. Why? Because the facial expression and glow of comfort young Annie exhibited at this exact moment speaks to me about the part of pet adoption that is best of all; forever homes for God’s creatures who, through no fault of their own, found themselves cast adrift.
Annie’s story, as we understand it, begins with an elderly couple. After the lady passed away Annie lived for a time with the widower, but eventually was surrendered to YAAP.
There she trembled in deep terror and anxiety every waking moment. The raucous environment of the shelter utterly overwhelmed this sweet - though still occasionally annoying - little dog.
Thank goodness she was rescued by a wonderful young family that took her home and lavished her with love and attention. Sadly, she wasn’t hard-wired for the angst of three kids and their friends, either, noisily romping through the house, slamming doors and leaping about as young humans are bound to do.
The family was heartbroken, but back to the shelter she had to go.
Except this time her reaction was even more sad and traumatic, exactly as anyone would predict.
Kim Hart at the shelter, knowing the Moseley Hacienda is a wiener friendly zone, shared Annie’s story and the desperation of her situation with me.
Kim trotted Annie out to the lobby where I settled in with her on my lap for 20 minutes, though it might have been as much as a full half-hour. If so that made our human-canine ‘chat’ historically unique for yours truly.
She was so comforted to have a lap and human fingers to scratch behind her ears the excitement and appreciation seemed almost to bubble out of her.
The bubbling was not literal of course, but one manifestation of that first meeting certainly was.
You probably knew all along that the hair will nearly fly in tufts from the hide of a highly stressed dog. You knew perhaps, but I did not.
When I stood to leave I looked down to find my shirt and jeans covered - matted - in a blanket of little red hairs.
That was the exact moment I knew we had to get her out of there. It was absolutely the right thing to do, even if we already had a pair of tube dogs at home, which we did.
Good Wife Norma saw it the way I did and quick as we could get the paperwork done she went home with us.
I tell ya, folks, it wasn’t more than three days before the heavy shedding nearly stopped. I, an admitted simpleton by any measure, was suitably amazed.
And so she remains here in what is now her safe place. Her permanent safe place.
Adopting her, just the latest among many homeless doxies for us over many years, was a God-send to her and, here’s the thing, it was no big deal to us either.
Maybe you could try it, too. Stop in at the shelter weekday afternoons until 3 except Mondays.
Tell ‘em Ole’ Mose sent you, then go pick out your next best buddy.