My Life as a Rescue Dog, Ch. 1

by Clondike Kintsfather (the Pyr formerly known as Clondike Blanche Neige)

Hi! I've been asked to write about being rescued, although I'm not sure what from, since I've had a pretty cushy life so far.

I was born on a farm in Kansas. My Mother's name was Frostie and Dad's name was Gizmo, no doubt named after the Gremlin in the movies. I'm sure I get my perky ears from his side of the family. I don't remember them very well because I was still very young when I was sold to a pet store in New York. I'll never see my real family again.

The people at the pet store were very nice to me, making sure I got my shots and worm medications on schedule. They also hung a big price tag on me, but that was no deterrent to a young lady with a credit card, named Johnna. She came shopping for an Akita, but she went home with me.

At first I was an adorable little bundle of white fluff, just big enough to fill up a square in the pattern on her kitchen linoleum. I grew up fast, though, and soon I was romping through their small town house and getting on Johnna's father's nerves. I wondered why Johnna's mother started to cry whenever I came into the room until Johnna explained to me that her mother had something called an allergy that was very bad. Pretty soon Johnna was hinting to me that maybe our all living together in such close quarters wasn't working out. I liked it fine. Johnna had bought me my own wading pool, took me to visit horses at the stable where she went riding and made me bacon and eggs for breakfast three times a week. Sometimes though I wished the back yard had more grass and less concrete.

Finally after I had lived there about 9 months Johnna told me she was looking for a new home for me through something called a "Rescue Network." One day in late September a couple came to see me (and Johnna and her family). I was told to be on my best behavior because these people might become my new owners. I turned on all the charm and cinched it with the old licking-their-hands-in-adoration ploy. They called later that day and said I could come live with them. Two weeks later, Johnna took me and my toys and dog yummies to Topton, Pa. It was hard for her to leave me but she promised to come back and visit, and she did.

It took me a long time to get these new people broken in, especially in the area of food. I went on a hunger strike immediately, expecting the bacon and eggs to be forthcoming, but eventually had to give in. After almost two and one-half years, still no bacon and eggs for breakfast! It took them a long time to learn that everything is a toy, including stair steps to be gnawed on, valuable Social Security documents to be ripped to shreds, -- the list goes on and on.

We have all settled down into a happy routine, now.

Their daily tasks revolve around going to work to make more money for my Milk Bones, walking me to get their exercise, brushing me to improve the appearance of the neighborhood and playing with me to burn off their excess energy. Whatever this Rescue Network thing is, I think it worked out OK for me.

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