The Family

Meet the Family

Sophia, called Sophie by her friends, is my husband's dog. We rescued her from the Humane Society just before her date of execution. Sophie had been abandoned on the side of the road, along with her puppies, in the Silver Valley of North Idaho.

We had been calling the shelter every day for weeks waiting for a smaller dog to come in and be made available for adoption. One day I called and the young lady described in glowing details this wonderful little gold dog. I turned to Harold and said, "Quick, get your coat and lets go, it sounds like your dog."

When we arrived they brought Sophie out and she took one look at Harold and displayed the most amazing set of teeth. Folks, she wasn't smiling.

"Ummm, there were a few things we didn't mention on the phone" said the perky little girl.

No kidding.

This poor little dog had probably been abused, and as a result, was terrified of everyone. She was deemed un-adoptable by the shelter, but the girls working there fell in love with her and kept trying to pawn her off on someone.

After observing her from across the room for about 30 minutes I was getting a bit impatient with the whole thing. I told my husband to sit down, marched across the room, told Sophie we were tired of this nonsense, and took her and pounced her into Harold's lap and promptly fled. Sophie, frozen in fear, looked around, sighed deeply, and laid her head on Harold's arm. It's been there for over 15 years.

Sophie

Angela wrote the book on relaxation. She is the queen bee and everyone does her bidding. Here she is in a patch of spring sun doing what she does best. She was even relaxed and "above it all" while in her Humane Society cage waiting for a couple of suckers like us. Way to go, Angela.

Angela

Erica chose us as her special family. We are blessed and oh so grateful to have added her to our family (as though we had a choice.) You can read Erica's story and what I learned from her here.

Erica

And last, but never, ever least is my Elle, the sociopath wanna-be Yorkie. I consider her another "rescue." I was working for a vet who did the puppy checks for a pet store. Folks - DON'T buy dogs at a pet store. Can you say puppy mill? One day shortly after my Yorkie died they called from this store and said they knew I liked Yorkies. The vet had given Elle a "grade four patella"on her puppy check and now she was worthless. Did I want her? How can you turn down a 2 pound puppy?

Home she came and then she started to grow, and grow, and grow. Her fur grew too, but was so weird and fine it tangled to the point of matting. Uh, that's not Yorkie fur. We finally had to have all her fur clipped, and the result was a dog that even vets look at and say, "what is it?" Oh yes, she's cute, but clearly the cages of that puppy mill were left open one night.

Elle

Since my husband and I are getting ready to celebrate 19 years of sobriety we know what it's like to be rejects of society. We try to extend our concern and care to all rejects, even the "fur-people."

"At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done. We will be judged by 'I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in.' Hungry not only for bread, but hungry for love. Naked not only for clothing, but naked of human dignity and respect. Homeless not only for want of a home of bricks, but homeless because of rejection." - Mother Teresa