I first saw my MOM through the wires of a cage at the SPCA in August of
1998. She had been told of a little dog who was expecting and in
need of a
foster home. That was ME. MOM said she would talk to her
husband and come
back for me. She returned as she promised, but I was not ready to
go
anywhere. I was very frightened by all the new sounds, smells, and
people.
A nice lady had to cover my head and TEETH to help me safely out of the
cage. MOM took me home and nine days later, I presented her with
seven
puppies. When my babies were six weeks old, they all went to happy
homes
across the bay. And something wonderful happened to me, too. I learned
that I was not going to be a foster dog any longer. My MOM had
gone back
to the SPCA and formally adopted me. I was so happy that I would
finally
have lots of stability and lots of food in my life. The only thing
that
could make my life more perfect would be MOM only calling one name,
MINE,
when it's time to eat or go "winkie."
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