Winston
For anyone who knows me but at all, or has even met me for a few seconds, realizes I adore animals--especially dogs. I can talk your freaking ear off about my own dogs and I could pass a "name that breed" quiz any day. I am a frequent viewer of "The Dog Whisper" and "Dogs 101" and am a connoisseur of dog food. Needless to say, I am a huge sucker for a slobbery face and big brown puppy eyes.
Enter Winston.
We are those crazy dog people who periodically head to the local shelters to help out and check out the pooches. Today, we visited PetSmart who who was supporting adoptions from some local agencies. We saw that sad crate cart full of dogs and had to stop. We checked out the pups and saw lots of new faces, and a few familiar ones. The one who kept catching my attention was Winston; a little speckled German Wirehair Pointer. His hair was matted and he had multiple skin wounds. We had admired him for a few weeks and were astounded to see how much he had grown. He was the biggest dog in the bunch and wasn't fitting in his little crate anymore. As we crouched by the cage, we overhead many people look at him and say, "oh, he's too big," or "he's too old."
I got a little teary watching him get passed by over and over as people cooed at the "small" Chihuahuas. I realized that he was never going to be adopted. He was born in the shelter and would be put down soon if no one wanted him. I looked in his big brown eyes and knew he would be coming home with me. We got him out of that awful cage and took him for a little walk. He was perfect; nervous, excited, but perfect. He sat on command and even shook my hand. I think he could tell this was it. We took him over to a group of people and kids to gage his reaction; he laid down and begged for a belly rub. I was sold. And luckily, I married a man who supports me and my huge, bleeding heart.
He is home with us now, sleeping in a much bigger crate with a mattress fit for the queen of Sheba. And he has stolen our hearts. And our boys' hearts. Hank and Sam are so psyched to have another play mate and have fully accepted their new brother.
So, declare us mentally insane for having three dogs, but we feel pretty amazing today. We helped someone who really didn't have a chance and we can love him like there's no tomorrow. And we will.
Enter Winston.
We are those crazy dog people who periodically head to the local shelters to help out and check out the pooches. Today, we visited PetSmart who who was supporting adoptions from some local agencies. We saw that sad crate cart full of dogs and had to stop. We checked out the pups and saw lots of new faces, and a few familiar ones. The one who kept catching my attention was Winston; a little speckled German Wirehair Pointer. His hair was matted and he had multiple skin wounds. We had admired him for a few weeks and were astounded to see how much he had grown. He was the biggest dog in the bunch and wasn't fitting in his little crate anymore. As we crouched by the cage, we overhead many people look at him and say, "oh, he's too big," or "he's too old."
I got a little teary watching him get passed by over and over as people cooed at the "small" Chihuahuas. I realized that he was never going to be adopted. He was born in the shelter and would be put down soon if no one wanted him. I looked in his big brown eyes and knew he would be coming home with me. We got him out of that awful cage and took him for a little walk. He was perfect; nervous, excited, but perfect. He sat on command and even shook my hand. I think he could tell this was it. We took him over to a group of people and kids to gage his reaction; he laid down and begged for a belly rub. I was sold. And luckily, I married a man who supports me and my huge, bleeding heart.
He is home with us now, sleeping in a much bigger crate with a mattress fit for the queen of Sheba. And he has stolen our hearts. And our boys' hearts. Hank and Sam are so psyched to have another play mate and have fully accepted their new brother.
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