Quote:
Originally Posted by !@#$%!
o man
that fucking hurts
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I am torn the fuck up about it. She was a great dog. And a rescue. She was that special kind of dog with tons of character, who’s both fiercely independent and totally nurturing and maternal. If I was in a bad mood, she was there. She’d plop her head down on my foot or lick my hands, and try her damndest not to chase things because she could tell she was needed.
I found her in a blizzard, bounding through snow drifts in ‘05. Her feet were all messed up and even a bit frost-bitten on the pads from being out in the cold for so long. I still tried to contact her owner, and put signs up, because I thought certainly nobody would abandon this majestic beast to the elements... surely someone is missing her desperately.
No calls. No complaints to animal control. After a few weeks I said fuck whatever owner let this poor thing nearly freeze to death, and I took the signs down.
There was a puppy mill nearby, out in the boonies. I figured, and my vet at the time also suspected, that’s where she was from, as she looked undeniably and classicly like a pure-bred Border Collie. Fuck puppy mills.
She came to me in a blizzard at a dark time. She just appeared while I was driving along a back road. She was like an angel.
Sweetest dog you could imagine.
Shit.