January 3, 2017
The tale of Greta told by Maria
We lost our previous dogs, Stormy (a Minpin) and Blanca (a Chihuahua) kind of close together. Stormy was almost 17 and Blanca 15 1/2 years. I was sad when Stormy was gone but really grieved over Blanca. We said we’d take our time, but Blanca died in October of 2014 and on my birthday in March 2015, we brought Greta home from the SPCA. She is part Dachshund and part Chihuahua.
We’ve had two-year-old Greta since she was four months old. She and her brother were given up to our local SPCA. Her papers said her former people “could not keep/do not want.” Well, WE wanted her! I would have taken her brother too but we live in an apartment.
(This is me holding Greta when she first came home with us at four months old)
Greta is a little clown. She practically stands on her head at times to get attention when we’re on the computer, etc. and she vocalizes at the same time. It’s really funny!
She is a little lover, very loving towards people, always receiving our guests well. She also likes other dogs & cats. But she is skittish and afraid of “things.” One time, she barked when she first saw that a neighbor had placed a Halloween plate in their ground floor window as a decoration; she barks at trash bags blowing past along the backyard ditch – anything that is out-of-place in her little safe world.
Sadly, she almost died the summer after we brought her home from eating mulch saturated with herbicides. She screamed with pain; it was horrible. She is obviously sensitive as she also had a severe reaction to a topical anti-tick and flea med this past summer.
It was painful to lose long-time pets but she is a treat and we are delighted to have a dog again, though a barky one! We praise God that He brought her to us and that we can take care of her.
Tail wags to you and Cino!
This tale was shared by Maria, a fellow blogger who participated in “Tuesday Tale-What Is Your Pet’s Tale?”. If you would like to participate, click the link for details.
Thank you Maria for sharing this story with us. It’s so great that there are people like you out there who will take in and give a permanent home to a skittish dog. Those things you mentioned might be why her previous people didn’t want her, which is sad because no human being or animal is perfect. But both are God’s creation deserving of love, care, patience, time and a permanent home. I am glad she is bringing you so much joy!
To find out more about Maria, you can visit her blog Pilgrim’s Progress revisited.
January 10, 2017
The tale of Cinnamon and Shadow told by Jeanne
Cinnamon was technically my mother’s dog, but I was like the second mother to her. A lady I used to work for had a miniature poodle named Ginger, and when my mother saw her, she wanted one. When Ginger’s breeder had some more puppies, my mother got one. Amazingly, Cinnamon and Ginger had the exact same markings, only Cinnamon was a little bigger. I suppose that’s not all that surprising since their parents were the same, just from different litters (about 2 years apart).
Cinnamon was the first dog we ever had. We’d only had cats before. When we got Cinnamon, we still had one cat, Gizmo (we lost him a few years later at the age of 19). It was a learning experience having Cinnamon, but she was a joy to have. She was such a sweetheart, always wanting to be around you. She got along well with our cats, as well, and especially with Shadow as they practically grew up together.
Cinnamon loved going for walks and car rides and playing with her squeaky toys. She learned a few basic tricks, and I could get her stand on her hind legs and spin for a treat. She didn’t quite get the hang of fetch, though. She’d run and get the toy but when she’d return she’d run by you with it instead of releasing it. 🙂
Cinnamon was such a friendly dog who loved to meet and make friends with people and other dogs, and enjoyed to going to the “Blessing of the Animals” service at my mother’s church. She also loved to lay by you on the couch or sleep next to you on the bed. She was good company for my mother after my brother and I moved out, as well.
Sadly Cinnamon crossed the Rainbow Bridge on February 21, 2014 at the age of 12 years after a large, previously undiagnosed tumor on her abdomen got the better of her. For a few months towards the end, she started using the floor, stopped going for walks like usual (though that might have been in part due to being attacked by a Boxer during a walk and again by another dog at church a week later – I think they may have sensed she was sick) and jumping on the couch or bed to lay next to you. When my mom came home one day and Cinnamon struggled to get out of her bed and greet her at the door and was wheezing, we knew there was something really wrong and she was rushed to the vet where they found the tumor.
Shadow was found as a kitten by the sister of a lady I worked with. He was found in a church parking lot, I believe. My coworker’s sister wasn’t able to keep him at her apartment, so my coworker brought him to the office. I took one look at him and couldn’t turn him away. I’d lost my cat Smokey a couple of years before to feline diabetes and I was missing her. Cinnamon had also joined the family the year before.
Shadow was such a sweet boy. He would follow me everywhere I went, which was one reason I named him Shadow, besides the obvious fact he was a black cat. He was a sweetheart who liked to climb in my lap and reach up to lick my earlobes while kneading my shoulders. He got along rather well with Cinnamon as well. He did have a habit of liking to jump up on the dining room table, and we’d call him down for it, and Cinnamon seemed to pick up on that and started barking at him when he’d do it as if to call him down, and Shadow would get down.
Shadow spent part of his time outdoors, and was a fairly good hunter. We’d often find “presents” left outside, either birds, mice, rats, or squirrels. Though whether they were all from him or if some of them were from the stray cats in the area, we were never quite sure. Shadow never wandered very far, though, only going to the neighbors or across the street. We even got Cinnamon to go outside and call Shadow to come home – she’d go out and bark for him, and he’d come home when he heard her, possibly knowing it was safe. I think he relied on her a lot for keeping stray cats and other dangerous critters away so he’d be safe outside.
Shadow crossed the Rainbow Bridge from a lymphoma on Sept. 30, 2016, a month after turning 14 years old, and I miss him a lot. He was the sweetest cat, and anyone who thinks black cats are bad luck are missing out on a lot.
This tale was shared by Jeanne, a fellow blogger who participated in “Tuesday Tale-What Is Your Pet’s Tale?”. If you would like to participate, click the link for details.
Thank you Jeanne for sharing this story with us. Losing a pet is losing a family member. So sorry for your losses. I remember you posting about Shadow when he passed. It sounds like Cinnamon and Shadow were great pals!
To find out more about Jeanne, you can visit her blog Jeanne Owens, author.
January 17, 2017
The tale of Pearl told by Lesley
I saw the story of Pearl on another blog and I thought it was so incredible, I just had to share it. It seemed easiest to reblog it.
Thank you so much Lesley for letting me share this story. Pearl is absolutely beautiful and it crushes me to think about what she went through before she made her way to you. Looking at these beautiful photographs of her, I can see she is now in good hands.
This is exactly why we have to start young in teaching children empathy towards animals and why we all need to be the voice for animals.
I hope everyone enjoys visiting Lesley’s blog and reading the story of Pearl. 🙂
I am amazed at all of the stories I have been able to use so far for my “Tuesday Tales.” Most of them are “rescue” stories. This warms my heart so much to know that even though there is way too much abuse out there, there are great people, like you, saving them and taking them away from the abuse.
January 25, 2017
The tale of Kurly
This is a tale about a little toy poodle.
There was a couple that had three small children and decided it was time to bring a furry friend into the family. So, one day they all took a drive. The children were told that mom was stopping to get some yarn.
Mom went inside to find a litter of puppies so energetic, so full of wiggles & wags. There was one puppy that caught her eye and she knew he was the one. Mom said the puppy actually picked her. (It seems our pets choose us in most cases, doesn’t it?)
She carried the puppy close to her, hidden, so the children would think it was a black ball of yarn. Surprise! The three children were so excited! They loved this dog so much, especially the youngest one and he soon became the mom’s baby, her “other child.”
Since it was such a tiny puppy, he slept in a box that was open on the top at night with blankets and an alarm clock. They heard the ticking noise relaxes and comforts a puppy. Eventually he wound up sleeping in the beds of his family members. (Pretty typical, right.)
The house became known in the neighborhood as the house with the little black poodle. Everyone would see him outside as they drove by the house that was on a corner.
This puppy and the children grew up alongside one another. The youngest child became quite attached to the dog. He was there when she was teased in school, when her mom & dad went through a divorce, through fights with her girlfriends, and boyfriend troubles. Whenever she was sad, he was right there giving her kisses and comforting her. (Dogs are amazing! Angels from heaven!)
Over the years, habits had formed like watching out the window whenever the family was gone, being SO excited to get his own stocking every Christmas, peeing on the corner side table in the living room, and growling if you went near his bone. (Habits, good or bad, human or animal, are something families form and work through together.)
One morning the youngest child went to look for him, as she did first thing every morning, but she couldn’t find him. She asked her siblings, they said that he was outside. She went to the door and saw the bundle of black curls not moving and looking lifeless. Devastated she quickly realized he was gone. Her best friend had died.
Hysterical, she and her siblings called their mom at work. She and dad came home so the family could bury their beloved pet of 15 years in their backyard. There were many, many tears.
This was a very difficult time for the family. The youngest girl even heard the jingle of the dog’s collar tags, just like she always heard whenever he would come running up the stairs, only to wake up and realize it was only a dream.
The little black poodle was named Kurly, and the youngest girl was me. Below is a photo of Kurly. It isn’t the best quality photo, but it is a photo from around 30 years ago.
To this day, there is a wooden cross in the backyard of our family home marking where Kurly is buried. That collar with the jingly tags is something I couldn’t part with. I still have it in a keepsake box.
I still miss Kurly and still cry when I think of him. In fact, I became very emotional looking at this picture while creating this post. I miss you Kurly and I hope to see you again one day. Rest in the arms of Jesus. I love you!