Category Archives: Pets

A Fish Tale

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By: Roshanda Pratt

Our family started our Thanksgiving off with the loss of another fish. Nemo or Ceelo (not really sure which one) went home to the big fish bowl in the sky.  Apparently, it is not enough just to feed the fish but you have to check the pump and make sure it is not clogged (deep sigh). I must take full responsibility for that one, oops! Unfortunately, this is not our first fish tale.  We lost Freddy the Fish about two years ago.  Here is his untimely story.

It all began with a class lesson in the letter “F”. My middle daughter was in 3K.  Her teacher sent each kid home with a fish named (you guessed it), Freddie: The Fish. I thought it was a clever idea. The week before, my parents had  purchased two goldfish, Nemo and Ceelo (not to be confused with the singer Cee-Lo Green). It seemed like a good idea at the time.  So Nemo, Ceelo and Freddie: The Fish were all living in one big happy fish tank. Freddie: The Fish, the smallest of the three, could not eat the same pellet fish food as the others, so we fed him the flaky fish food. We watched Freddie’s food intake until one day, when I noticed that Freddie was looking, well, not so fishy. He was moving rather slow and he looked quite seasick! I know, he’s a fish, and they live in water, but Freddie looked really, really sick!

The next day, we got up as usual and got the kids ready for school. That morning, while saying our prayers, our oldest (who was 5 at the time) thanked the Lord for Freddie. Well, sometime later that day, Freddie went belly up- literally. Thank God the kids didn’t notice. I believe that was the Lord’s grace for all of us. My husband took the kids to school and I had to fish- I mean scoop- poor Ol’ Freddie out of the tank. I put him in a Starbucks paper cup as we tried to figure out what to do.

When in doubt and in need of a good laugh, the best place to turn is, of course, Facebook. The following is my Facebook post the morning of the discovery (names are removed to protect the innocent):

My Post: Whelp, “Freddie the Fish” is belly up, literally. After prayer with the kids today, Jacobee and I discovered the lifeless body. Smh. Goldfish. Now I am preparing myself to get this thing out of the tank and talk to the kids. Smh. Now I know what Cliff Huxtuable felt like when Rudy’s gold fish died on the Cosby Show (sigh).

Comment: Oh…Freddie!!

Comment: Whattt??? I just met him yesterday. He didn’t look sick… When is the funeral?

Comment: Weeelll u could do what we did…take fish back and exchange it for one that looks like it. If the kids dont know its dead it wont matter….

Comment: Gotta stick to beta fish .. they last longer ..lol. hope the kids do ok with the news…

Comment: That was the best Cosby episode….I do find myself resorting to some of Cliff’s tacktics with my kids from time to time….lol So sorry about the fish

Comment: Is Jael going to put on a black leotard for the funeral? : ) (One of the best TV episodes ever…)

Comment: Ok see that’s why I like stuffed animals! Smh

Comment: RIP Freddy the fish

Comment: we had a beta fish to die about two years ago and for a while if you even mentioned the fish name, Spencer would cry. I made the mistake of getting rid of the fish while they were gone for the weekend. Grief and mourning for like a year. A funeral would be ummm….cute. lol!

As you can see the responses were pretty funny! My husband and I seriously thought about replacing Freddie before the girls got home from school. Then we thought that would be lying, the very thing we tell them not to do.

Well, the time came to tell the girls about Freddie The Fish. I started off with, “Girls, I have something to tell you.” This got their attention. But for some reason the younger child, the three-year-old, kept looking over at the fish tank.  “Girls, Freddie The Fish is dead.” (pause) In unison they both said “Awww, Freddie…” and then came the questions. The main question was about Freddie now? I told them he was in a paper cup. They wanted to see him and say their good-byes. I allowed them to do so and then little Freddie went floating with the fishes (again, I could not resist!). Basically, Daddy flushed Freddie down the toilet. The girls’ response: “He may get lost!”

So, here we are 2 years later dealing with another fish drama.  Instead of replacing the fish, I have decided to look for a pet with a longer life span.  Any suggestions?

Ro :)

Girl’s Best Friend

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By: Katie Austin

Dafny as she looks off the back deck of the house

They say a man’s best friend is his dog, but I would venture to say that a dog can be a girl’s best friend too.  We have a 10-year old black Labrador Retriever named Dafny.  She is more than a pet, she is an important part of our family and we couldn’t imagine life without her.  Like a mom bragging about her child, I want everyone to know how truly special Dafny is and I think after reading my post, you will think she is too :)

Where to begin?  She is by far the cutest dog in the world!  Of course, I am biased because she is our dog, but she really is one of the sweetest, loving animals I have ever known.  What you see in the pictures is what you get with her and is just a small insight to what it is like to have here with us every day.  She, like her other furry friends, loves to go for walks (good for us too!) and meal time is her favorite part of the day as she runs in circles with excitement!  In a nutshell, she just wants to be loved and to love you back.   She is always there to greet you with a toy when you come home.  After a long day, all your troubles seem to fade away as you look down to see Dafny jumping up and down, almost smiling that you have arrived home.

Dafny sits in the snow, patiently waiting for her favorite thing - a cookie!

Dafny secured a special place in my heart during my breast cancer battle.  It was as if she knew I was sick and that she was going to sign up to be one of my caretakers.  She kept me company during the day as everyone was off at school/work, lying beside me for hours as I rested.  If I was in the bathroom sick from the treatments, I would open the door to find her sitting there, waiting for me to come out to see if I were ok.  She would check on me periodically as I lay in bed or on the couch, coming up to sniff me, lick my hand or face, then laying down as if wanting to be right there in case I needed something.  There were many days that I would hold her, crying as I didn’t know if the treatments were going to cure me.  She became my confident with whom I could tell her anything and knew that she would keep it to herself.  I think what helped is that no one else knew dog language, plus I bribed her with cookies which does the trick every time! :)

During that time, I learned just how special she is and how much I valued her companionship.  She was my guardian angel and she made me smile even during my toughest days.  I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have made it through my cancer battle if she wasn’t in my life as she seemed to nudge me forward in her special way.  She is more than a dog to us.  She is an important part of our family and we are so truly blessed that we adopted her so many years ago.

Do you have a pet that you couldn’t imagine life without them?  Have they helped you through a difficult time?  Post your story here for the Every Woman Blog family to honor them and appreciate the good deeds they have done :)

The One That Got Away

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By: Crissie Miller Kirby

Growing up, I loved animals so much that my grandfather, “Pop,” nicknamed me “Ellie Mae” after Ellie Mae Clampet on the Beverly Hillbillies, mainly because I always had some cat or dog with me everywhere I went around their farm.  I loved looking at the baby pigs they raised and cherish memories of helping to feed calves from galvanized buckets.  My Granny still tells of my particular love for my old tomcat, Snowball, who had a broken, crooked, tail, and always looked like a ragamuffin from numerous fights, his ears permanently folded over and pretty much hairless, but love that old cat, I did.  I would try and save baby birds that had fallen from their nests, and, even a few times, successfully captured field mice in the chicken houses on the farm.  I guess as long as it had feet of some kind, I loved it; hence, you realize quickly that I have no fondness in my heart for snakes.  Give me a furry little four-legged creature and I’m a goner.  Not good for a mother of boys.  Not good at all.

I say that I’m a mommy to two wild, crazy, but precious little boys, but it’s not completely the truth.  I’m also the human mommy to one dog and three cats, all of whom reside in the house for the most part.  We’ve tried fish, snails, and frogs, with little success ~ I’m guessing it would be hard to survive being caught, played with, and then tossed back in to the tank.  So, although I had a particular fondness for rodents in my younger days, my parents put their foot down on that one.  Never had mice, gerbils, guinea pigs, or hamsters growing up.  I guess, now, I’m making up for it.  Pierce and his sweet polarizing blue eyes sweet talked me in to getting a hamster about two months ago.  Then, since Pierce had one, well, Smith had to have one as well.  So, we have added two dwarf Russian hamsters to the mix as well; Sassy and Stormy.

These hamsters are supposed to be sociable creatures.  Well, maybe not.  Sassy is a biter, but will gladly allow you to hold her with no problems once you actually get her in your hands.  She will happily roll her little clear ball down the hall in an effort to torment the aforementioned cats; especially the youngest, Scarlett, who passes the majority of her days perched in one of three locations – behind, in front of, or on top of the hamster habitats – just waiting on what I have termed, her “hamster-burger.”  Stormy is the younger of the two and isn’t quite as vicious as Sassy, but he moves freely and quickly, and is a little more difficult to catch from that aspect.  But, once you have him, he gladly will crawl all over you with few cares in the world.  For the most part, we have not had much craziness with these little creatures (unlike my Every Woman Blogger Cohort, Shannon Shull, who should be enticed, now, to share her family’s hamster tail, pun totally intended), until this past Sunday night.  You know, luck doesn’t last forever, and at some point, it always runs out.

This past Sunday evening, I was multitasking, talking on the phone with my mother-in-law, putting away clothes, and hanging up clothes when I noticed that Sassy was standing on her back legs, scratching on the side of the habitat.  Remember, I love animals and am a sucker for what I take to mean a desire to interact.  So, I open the cage, get her out, and pet her for a few minutes.  Then I open a different section of the cage, put her in, and go about my business, which includes a trip to the grocery store, getting the boys ready for bed, and spending some time with them.  As we walk into their bedroom, I immediately notice something amiss ~ the hamster habitat is open and I see only 1 hamster, not two.

My first thought moves towards the cats and that Sassy has now become a late night snack.  I try not to get worked up and scare the boys, but I’m frustrated with myself because I am 100% completely at fault.  I search and see nothing that tells me that she could still be alive.  I go to bed feeling pretty badly and sleep fitfully until 3 a.m. when I am awakened by a squeak and the cats chasing something.  She’s alive, I know it!  I grab a flashlight and catch a glimpse of her little eyes and nose peering out at me from the leg of the loveseat in my bedroom.  I shoo the cats and dog from my bedroom and shut the door, thinking maybe I can trap her in my room and catch her.  I lie on the loveseat thinking I might hear a squeak and the ordeal will end quickly.  No such luck.  I, again, sleep fitfully, oversleep and am late for work.  At lunch, I go by my house and check to see if any of the food or cheese I left out before heading to work has been nibbled.  Nothing.  Doesn’t even appear to have been sniffed.  UGH!  I go back to work, feeling defeated by a hamster.

I get the same answers after work.  We search for half an hour, to no avail, finding only a juice pouch that had been left out had been nibbled on.  I leave the door shut and just forget about it, figuring I will deal more with the situation after the boys are safely in bed.  Bedtime comes and after finally getting them settled down, I hear a noise in the hallway, a noise that sounds like a cat after something, something alive.  I jump up and tip toe into the hallway where I am greeted by the sight of Scarlett with Sassy in her mouth, dangling by the scruff of her neck, much like a mother cat would do her kitten.  Scarlett knows that this is forbidden territory and takes off into the den where I begin to close the gap on her, but she does a U-turn in the middle of the den, right over a stack of clothes and shoots straight into the playroom, which can aptly be compared to the 9th circle of hell, or the abyss.  If it goes in, it may never come out of there!  The last thing I need is for Sassy to be loose in that room!

I follow them in, running as fast as my short legs and nightgown will allow.  Obviously, the cat has an advantage over me in that she’s smaller and can clear the amounts of junk piled in the room like a professional hurdler.  Me, not so much.  I hear the crunch of toys beneath my feet, but it’s on and I’m determined that I’m going to rescue the hamster.  I corner the cat in the bottom basket of a rolling cart, but she’s dropped the hamster.  Oh, hell!  I see Sassy shoot quickly toward some stacking file crates and I, immediately, grab Scarlett’s tail in an effort to delay her if only by a second to give me a head start.  I grab the hamster, expecting to see blood and death, but no, all I see is the largest pair of teeth I have ever seen in my life being flashed at me.  She nips me once, twice, and tries a third time, but I hold on tight and carry her, triumphantly, into the boys’ bedroom where I turn on the light to try and rise them to see that I have won.  I have conquered the enemy and saved Sassy from the evil clutches of Katie Scarlett Kirby.  They don’t hear a thing and there is no acknowledgement from them at all that I have just saved their dear little pet.

I release Sassy into the habitat and make sure that is firmly locked.  She walks to the food bowl, sniffs, picks up something and eats.  A minute later she runs to the wheel and begins to run, around and around, and around.  I’m guessing, like humans, that she’s got some extra adrenaline from the chase that she needs to burn off.  I see Stormy waltz to the wheel and squeak at Sassy, much like a parent would do to berate an errant child.  I leave her in peace and head off to deal with my own adrenaline rush ~ I open Facebook and play a few rounds of Bejeweled Blitz and Angry Birds and waste a little more time on Pinterest.  Alas, I finally give up and snuggle into bed with my Kindle and try to make peace with Scarlett who is pretty peeved about “the one that got away.”

The Success of Unfulfilled Dreams

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By: Summer Brons

I originally wrote this post in February of 2011 for a very short-lived personal blog. I often go back and re-read it when I’m feeling mixed up about my choices in life, so I thought I’d share it here now since February has rolled around once again.

“Now that,” I said, motioning to one of the TVs hanging on the wall at a frequented watering hole, shot of Goldschlager in hand, “is the perfect example of a failed dream.”  I downed my shot and set the plastic cup on the bar.  My boyfriend gave me a quizzical look, glanced at the highlight reels of parading dogs from the previous night’s competition and inquired as to how a dog show represents failure.

The last couple of days have given way to the famous Westminster Kennel Club dog show that takes place each February at Madison Square Garden. It’s an intense, glamorous show with a great deal of history and a cult-like following from both fans and competitors on the American Kennel Club show circuit. As with many events, dog shows are best appreciated if you’re able to personally relate. Dog people are, by and large, a quirky bunch; although I suppose you ought to be if you intend to spend the majority of your weekends traveling around multiple states to campaign your dog with the goal of becoming a Westminster hopeful. Several humorous books have been written on the subject, pick one up sometime if you’d ever like a behind-the-scenes look at the world of canine competition.

Bernese Mountain Dog

I used to show dogs back when I was in middle school, thanks to an English teacher who noticed me reading an AKC rulebook in class between assignments and called me up to his desk to tell me all about how he and his wife bred and showed Bernese Mountain Dogs, and would I like to come along to a show with them one day? Yes, in fact, I would like that, and like it I did. I began showing one of their young females, Peggy, in both breed competition and junior handling classes throughout Oregon and Washington. Turns out, I wasn’t too shabby for an awkward seventh-grader and started attending more shows, meeting more people and allowing myself to start dreaming a little bigger.  Beyond youthful visions of one day perhaps earning a living as a professional handler, competing at Westminster was most certainly at the top of my list of goals.

But then, as it often inconveniently seems to, reality stepped up to rain on my parade. Between health problems for my teacher and financial strain for my family, eventually it wasn’t so feasible to fund my dog habit, particularly when I was too young to enter the workforce and bear a bit of the load. The dog shows had to be shelved for a while and suddenly the years began to fly by.  One thing has a funny way of leading to another and, often, that chain does not involve circling back around to revisit glassy-eyed childhood aspirations.

That 12-year-old girl happily prancing around the ring with a big black dog certainly had no idea that 14 years later she’d be standing in a dimly-lit bar across the country, clutching a cup of booze and a pool cue while watching clips of the dog show she once thought she’d make it to.

“That’s terrible.” My boyfriend, Thomas, declares. I agree, on principle of disappointment over lost ambitions, but then I shrug and try to briefly think what I’d be doing with my life now if I had kept showing dogs throughout the years. Would I have ended up in South Carolina? Would I still be in the process of actively pursuing a writing career, something I’ve dreamed of far longer than I ever dreamed of Westminster?  Would I have developed such fierce affection for turkey bacon and rice cakes?

Who knows. Bottom line - I’ll never know what might have become of me in the dog world, but the point is that none of us ever really know what would have happened if we’d made different decisions or followed alternate opportunities. The only thing we have is the reality of where we are now and the open doors before us that we either opt to explore or refuse to walk through. Honestly, I really don’t even miss showing dogs anymore and I haven’t for quite some time. Westminster each year is mostly a distant pang of, “That could have been me once” more so than it is a, “Why, oh why isn’t that me?!” and quite frankly, I think we can all stand to benefit from those types of pangs from time to time. Gentle reminders to stay alert and focused, to remember what our goals are and follow our passions even as they shift with the changing tides of daily life. Thus, is America’s most famous dog show really a “failed” dream of mine?  No, it isn’t.

That being said, here’s my tip for the day: stop wasting energy complaining about the past, use it to make something happen for tomorrow.

In Memory Of My Father, Richard Baldauf

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By: Mary Pat Baldauf

On Sunday, December 11, my father, Richard Baldauf, lost his brave struggle with dementia with Lewy bodies (DLB). I am feeling so many emotions, but instead of focusing on me, I want to share an amazing story of God’s grace that I experienced firsthand …

Mary Pat Baldauf

Five years ago, my father was diagnosed with dementia with Lewy bodies (DLB), a form of dementia that shares characteristics with both Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases.  From day one, I felt helpless because Dad could no longer enjoy the many things we used to do together like talk politics, do puzzles or work around the house. Up until this summer, I felt bad that I couldn’t do more for him, but that all changed when I found Gizmo, a rescue Pomeranian pup who changed Dad’s last six months in a way that I couldn’t.

Dad never really had indoor pets, but for years had a loving Chow mix named Lucy. As Dad’s illness progressed, Lucy came in during the day to keep Dad company. Unfortunately, Lucy was diagnosed with cancer in November of last year and died at home the following February. My mother, sister and I gave Dad some time to grieve, but we were anxious to get Dad a new canine companion, perhaps even a little lap dog. We made several attempts and even brought one home for a trial visit, but Dad was adamant that he didn’t want another dog.

As Dad’s somewhat rebellious daughter, I wasn’t going to take Dad’s refusals lying down. My sister and I kept our eyes open and even checked local rescue websites, but we hadn’t been able to find the right dog. Then one fateful Saturday, I was shopping at Harbison and stopped by PetsMart on a whim. There were several rescue groups on site, but I only saw puppies and larger dogs. I sighed in disappointment and decided to try again later.

On my way out, I spotted one last rescue group, Fairfield County Animal Adoption Center. At first glance, I saw no small dogs, but a volunteer told me they did have a rescue Pomeranian named Gizmo, but he was outside being walked. As we waited for his return, she told me that Gizmo’s first home was with a wheelchair bound man and that the dog would sit in his lap all day. That was my first tinge of hope. Dad used a walker, and any dog who rode in a wheelchair probably wouldn’t mind a walker. She went on to explain that when Gizmo’s owner passed away, the dog went to an abusive home where he was beaten with canes and brooms and generally neglected.

At that time, in walked a volunteer with a precious little bundle of fur that was Gizmo. I may’ve been on the fence before, but I was immediately determined to adopt Gizmo for Dad. I tried to call my sister to get a second opinion, but couldn’t reach her; I just took a giant leap of faith and adopted Gizmo. Janice screened me well and asked a lot of questions, but thankfully was as convinced as I that this was meant to be.

Fast forward to Mom and Dad’s house, where I walked in with Gizmo.  Dad had no more made that funny face and started to say no when Gizmo jumped in his lap; the rest is history. Within the hour, he was telling us, “This is my dog!” And indeed, Gizmo was Dad’s dog. He took to Dad immediately, and in the coming days, their bond grew exponentially. Quite simply, Gizmo gave Dad unconditional love and friendship that truly enhanced his quality of life in his final days.

These are just a few of the examples of how amazing Gizmo was for my dad:

  • Gizmo stayed by Dad’s side practically 24 hours a day, seven days a week. During the day, he sat on Dad’s lap in the easy chair in the living room, and at night, slept right beside him.

    My dad with his faithful companion, Gizmo

  • Gizmo made it easier for Dad to have guests.  With Gizmo, he always had something to talk about.  He could easily make conversation about the dog, while remembering current events or previous visits were more difficult for him.
  • In addition to the love he provided, Gizmo also became Dad’s smallest care giver.  On many occasions, Gizmo sounded the alert that help was needed. Once, when Dad was struggling to get out of the bed while Mom was making breakfast, Gizmo ran into the kitchen and barked until Mom figured out what he was trying to tell her.
  • Gizmo was loyal to Dad to the end. Gizmo camped out on Dad’s bed, and even when Dad could no longer speak, he nearly always had a hand on Gizmo. Even after Dad passed, we couldn’t pry Gizmo from Dad’s side, so we let him stay and say his goodbyes.

These days, Gizmo is still supporting Dad – this time by pouring out his love on my mother. He’s already sleeping with her, and with Gizmo there, Mom is never alone. For my sister and I, visiting Gizmo is like having a little of Dad right there with us.

In the opening, I mistakenly suggested that I found Gizmo. That’s not quite right. I was just God’s conduit, a way for Him to deliver the gift of Gizmo to my father. There are a lot of things I don’t understand about God, but this I know for sure: God bundled up his grace and love in that sweet, furry package especially for Dad.  And for that, I am most thankful.

For the Love of Buddy – Part 3

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By: Shannon Shull

I promise this will be my last blog entry focusing on my crippled dog. But, I absolutely could not resist sharing with you the unique way that my, now Bionic Buddy, sleeps. Ever since he was smacked in the road and brought back to being, thanks to a surgery that placed a metal plate and many screws into his tiny hips, well, I think you’ll see by my pictures that our little Bud has acquired a very different way of sleeping.

Buddy Passed Out in the Kitchen Doorway

Buddy Sound Asleep at my Feet by my Desk on Hardwood Floor

I have to admit that I’ve become quite obsessed with getting pictures of Buddy in his range of unique sleeping positions – it honestly cracks me up and I cannot help but want to take his picture. I mean this dog can be smack dab in the middle of a room on the hardwood floor and be asleep laying flat on his back!  Half the time the dog looks dead when he sleeps!  I’ll come across him in the craziest places, on his back, feet straight up in the air and sound asleep.

We have this kid chair that we’ve had since our days in California – I used to like to sit in it when I was pregnant with my 2nd child so I could be close to the floor to play with my 1st baby, but up just enough so that I could actually stand back up with my big prego belly. Well, as you’ll see by the pictures, our Buddy has now claimed this chair. He will twist himself into this chair and I swear you wonder where his head is – it’s quite entertaining watching him climb into the chair and get himself positioned! And it’s unbelievable that the dog is comfortable and will actually sleep like that for hours.  The family will be hanging out together, I’ll get up in the middle of one of our family shows and someone will say, “What are you doing?!” and you’ll hear the response from one of my children, “Oh Mama’s just taking Buddy’s picture AGAIN.” I seriously can’t help it – I’ll be utterly exhausted and ready for bed but if look over at the kooky dog and he’s in one of his crazy positions, I have to take a picture!

Buddy Sleeping in His Chair - Can You Find His Head?

Buddy says, "Stops Waking Me Up With That Flash!"

I can assure you, our pet is no typical dog – he’s one of the most outstanding, bionic buddies on the face of the planet. Now, if I could only figure out a way to make money off the little rascal! Hmmmm…..

Share stories and pictures with me of your pet doing wacky things! Hey, it may not be an ultra important subject, but I figure if it brings a smile to someone’s face, then it’s worth the time and effort!   Cheers to you all and thanks for reading about my little Buddy. I hope I was able to bring a smile to your face!

Buddy Passed Out Flat on his Back Up Against the Door

Buddy - I Promise He's Not Dead!

For the Love of Buddy – Part 2

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By: Shannon Shull

So now that I hopefully have your heart strings in a bit of a tether after my blog entry, “For the Love of Buddy – Part 1”, I’d love to put your heart at ease… My fellow animal lovers and/or sympathetic, supportive blog readers, take note! My little Buddy is A-Ok! After a long, grueling healing process – the dog that could’ve easily been left for doggie heaven is now alive, well and most importantly – healed and immensely loved. This little bugger has taught my little family many a lesson, whether it be to hang in there – the excruciating, healing wait is worth the while, or to lighten up and just enjoy the little things in life. Our little Buddy reminds us to take light, to chill out and enjoy life.

See the proof in my video that our once broken pup is now our “Bionic Buddy” –

“All of the animals except for man know that the principle business of life is to enjoy it.” ~ Samuel Butler

Isn’t that a great quote? If only we could be reminded of that principle more often and actually apply that principle! Those little moments when you run around the house playing fetch, tag and wrestling with a rascal dog are moments in which I’ve learned need to be cherished, because they remind me to take a “daggome” breathe and not take life too seriously. I should really take heed of my own advice here, because I have to admit – especially lately – I have not been very good at taking a moment to chill and enjoy life!  But, you know those folks who take the time to play with or love on an animal and they seem to enjoy the heck out of it? Ever asked them if it was worth the effort? Worth their time? Probably not, because you were possibly too caught up enjoying watching them, watching a human and a pet enjoy the little things in life. Nothing wrong with that – as I’ve said before, if we let them, these little rascals can bring us a whole load of happiness. And this is coming from a human that’s not your average crazed animal lover. But I tell ya what, after experiencing having my own pet be crushed by a car and then saved by the grace of love…well, a certain appreciation happens that’s just well…unavoidable.

There’s a saying that has always rung true in my experience in life. “The purity of a person’s heart can be quickly measured by how they regard animals” ~ Anonymous. It isn’t the tell-all of a person’s inner being by any means, but you sure can get an idea of a person by how they treat animals.

It seems I constantly run into folks who are mentioning their dear pets and sharing tales of either their silliness, aggravation or sweet stories of friendship and such.  Pets are a big part of a whole lot of people’s lives. Do any of you happen to have a touching story of pet triumph? A pet that saved yours or someone’s life in some way? A simple story of an animal that made ya smile? I’m eager to hear your special pet tales – come on, do share!

Stay tuned for my next blog that will demonstrate the crazy way my dog now sleeps after having been smacked by a car. You will not want to miss the pictures I will be sharing! And after my next blog, I promise to lay off the pet talk and get back to other super cool, passionate things. Seriously, I promise.