04-22-2016, 01:50 AM
A wild dog born under our home when I was 13. actualy 4 which we gave away 3 and nobody took the last. We had a champion bred white husky, King, but sadly on a chain because he was a runner. One night he wouldn't eat but after watching him, it turned out to be love. Their was a wild female, kind of brown beagle looking but certainly mixed of who knows what. It was very hard to see her as she was too scared but, we managed to catch glimpse from time to time. Fast as, any motion of our curtens and she'd disappear into the nights shadows. . About a month later we gave away King because it wasn't fair or right to keep on that chain. Months after that we'd herd puppies under the floor and my brother and I crawled under the house to investigate. 4 pups 3 with mixed colored fluffy husky hair and 1 light and short haired with natural short, tail. which As, we had just been watching the old TV series, 'Blondie'.
She had crawled deeper and further than we could get to so, we, at that time, didn't know what or who the mother was however, eventually we spotted her. Hence, it was then which we understood the love story that had occurred as King would not eat until she'd had her share.
So, anyways it was easy to give away the long haired pups and eventually 'Blondie' grew and began disappearing with his mother. I think he'd been 5-6 months or so old whenever I decided to trap him and make my own. That wasn't too tough because we feed him and his mother while she was raising the pups, and although he was timid, I could not touch or get near the mother, he'd let me touch as long as I didn't make any sudden moves.
In a short time he'd become best friend, we'd hunt , well actually chase stuff, in the hills, he'd go with me everywhere for the next 5 or so years. But after I returned from the service he'd gotten old, weak and uncared for, seriously poor condition kept in the home, unclean, unhealthy conditions, mange fleas etc.
I bathed him and began taking him out again yet my mother warned me harshly, that bathing would kill him. I didn't care for rhetoric. as, anything other than the care he'd had was 1,000 percent improvement. My mother and her husband were irresponsible alcoholics. She was a wonderful person but that's another story. He was a seriously happy camper once more but, as it turns, she was right.
the strangest thing happened a few weeks later. I was watching something on the TV as he crept out from the hallway with a scared look in his eyes. He walked up to me and from the look in his eyes, it was as if he was thanking me and saying goodbye at the same time. Telling me "Thank you, my friend" and that he was about to die, as he sat at my feet.
I didn't want to see that and seriously, what? MY dog just told me thanks and but I am going to die, right now? I went across the street to hang on porch where many kids had gathered through the years and told them of this.. Of course, none had believed me, how could they. But about 15 minutes later I figured it was over and returned to discover, it was true.
The bad part: when he died, he'd expelled the nasty-ist death poop ever. It took some time to try and clean out of carpet, yet, seriously, I don't think it could have been cleaned enough other than replacing the whole carpet.
Yet, we had such good times together and during my return too. Sadly he died but, for all the good times, I wasn't sad at all. Just happy to have been there for him. That all through those last few weeks, we were able to pal around granted, he was weak, but, buddies once more. And the best part. He totally communicated his last words to me.
So, don't be sad, be happy for all of the good times.
She had crawled deeper and further than we could get to so, we, at that time, didn't know what or who the mother was however, eventually we spotted her. Hence, it was then which we understood the love story that had occurred as King would not eat until she'd had her share.
So, anyways it was easy to give away the long haired pups and eventually 'Blondie' grew and began disappearing with his mother. I think he'd been 5-6 months or so old whenever I decided to trap him and make my own. That wasn't too tough because we feed him and his mother while she was raising the pups, and although he was timid, I could not touch or get near the mother, he'd let me touch as long as I didn't make any sudden moves.
In a short time he'd become best friend, we'd hunt , well actually chase stuff, in the hills, he'd go with me everywhere for the next 5 or so years. But after I returned from the service he'd gotten old, weak and uncared for, seriously poor condition kept in the home, unclean, unhealthy conditions, mange fleas etc.
I bathed him and began taking him out again yet my mother warned me harshly, that bathing would kill him. I didn't care for rhetoric. as, anything other than the care he'd had was 1,000 percent improvement. My mother and her husband were irresponsible alcoholics. She was a wonderful person but that's another story. He was a seriously happy camper once more but, as it turns, she was right.
the strangest thing happened a few weeks later. I was watching something on the TV as he crept out from the hallway with a scared look in his eyes. He walked up to me and from the look in his eyes, it was as if he was thanking me and saying goodbye at the same time. Telling me "Thank you, my friend" and that he was about to die, as he sat at my feet.
I didn't want to see that and seriously, what? MY dog just told me thanks and but I am going to die, right now? I went across the street to hang on porch where many kids had gathered through the years and told them of this.. Of course, none had believed me, how could they. But about 15 minutes later I figured it was over and returned to discover, it was true.
The bad part: when he died, he'd expelled the nasty-ist death poop ever. It took some time to try and clean out of carpet, yet, seriously, I don't think it could have been cleaned enough other than replacing the whole carpet.
Yet, we had such good times together and during my return too. Sadly he died but, for all the good times, I wasn't sad at all. Just happy to have been there for him. That all through those last few weeks, we were able to pal around granted, he was weak, but, buddies once more. And the best part. He totally communicated his last words to me.
So, don't be sad, be happy for all of the good times.
