I was born in a kennel in Jackson, Mississippi but when I left it I was too young to remember much about it...All I know for certain is that I was the "runt" of the litter and had a bad underbite and no one seemed to want me. Then one day when I was 6 weeks old and the last one in the litter left, a nice elderly gentleman came and got me and seemed to love me. He was a friend of Ann's mother and she saw me first the next day. She said I was the cutest little thing she had ever seen. In a couple of weeks, the gentleman got gravely ill and had to go into a nursing home, so Ann and Aubrey came and got me. He gave them the papers on me and they registered me in her name. They kept me a while and then they moved and could not take me, so they gave me to another elderly gentleman and he took real good care of me. He liked to lie on the bed and read and he kept me right up there with him. Then he also died and Ann rescued me again.
I don't know anything about dying, but I do know that two people I loved and who loved me left me. Dying must mean that you leave everyone you love and never come back...Maybe someday I will understand.
I just wanted to tell you how an old dog thinks, especially one who has been rescued several times.
Gallman, MS
