I meet a lot of dogs. I see I go to the dog park every day and see the regulars. Like most regulars, I know the dogs’ names but often not the owners. When I’m just walking around, at a minimum, I smile at every dog I see. It’s a natural response. But if there’s time and the situation is right, I try to find out the dog’s name, to pet it, call it “sweetie”, and usually the owner will tell me a story.
“He was a stray and I tried to find a home for him. But I ended up keeping him. Now it’s 9 years later and I can’t imagine my life without him.”
“My neighbor kept this dog tied up all day. I couldn’t bear it. When I asked about it, it turned out that the boyfriend didn’t want a dog around. So I adopted her.”
Just this morning when I was walking my dogs at the dog park, I saw a woman with a dog who looked exactly like Sasha, my dear dog who died in Sept. The dog’s name was Rudy. He was a stray and his owner found him on a freeway in LA.
In my own case, I adopted 2 senior dogs, brothers, from a shelter 2 years ago. Their owner, who had them both for 10 years, surrendered them. Great dogs.
The dog in the picture is Bear. He’s a dog I met in San Rafael, CA. Bear was left homeless after a flood in Ross. His owner gave him daily walked and love ensued. The man (notice that I didn’t catch his name) proclaimed great affection for Bear and couldn’t imagine life without him.
Every dog has a history. Over the years, I’ve heard countless stories of abandonment and abuse, adoption and love.
Your Old English is beautiful and I couldn’t imagine my life without mine either!