Thirteen years ago, we adopted a dog who was perhaps about one years old. Hed been found by pet rescue running out by a highway. We named him Zip, which he did when young. He also could jump, could go from sitting on the floor to sitting on the sofa back in one move! He was gentle, timid, liked eating more than anything. When brand new, he ran away, but went a block away to the grocery store. He used to grumble under his breath if dinner were late, was happy to hear those pots and pans rattle. He insisted on his share. He was big-hearted and polite, afraid is storms, as well as serious discussions and loud laughter. He had Cushings syndrome, epilepsy, genetically rotten teeth, and other dogs liked to bite him. He loved all dogs and was submissive to all. In spite of his ailments and bites, he lived well with us, becoming a bit of a hypochondriac in his later years. But tumors in his intestines and esophagus finally got him. He went to that big ice cream shoppe in the sky this morning. A good life in all. That would be 98 in dog years. Not bad for one abandoned so young. But my heart is broken.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Mar 2014 18:02:25 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015