Art, Dogs


Honey, here.  I am a nine-year-old Rat Terrier mix. 

I found myself in a precarious situation and was rescued.  My foster mom, Terri, spoiled me.  She thought I was special just because I was me.  She seemed to know I just wanted to feel safe and spoiled a little.  She saw my loving heart.  I planned to stay with her always, but her job was to find me a new, forever home. 

Along came Ken and Ann, my adoptive parents.  We had an introductory meeting which went well.  The next day, after a microchip implant, I was put in their backseat. 

I learned a lot about them on the way home, my new dad tells mom how to drive.  I knew then that she needed me to give her moral support.  They talked to me all the way home.  Home.  That strange place with new smells, rooms, food bowls and my new peeps.

My foster mom told my mom to give me some chicken fingers each meal with my dry food.  I barked at her when I saw her getting the chicken bag out of the freezer.  She thought I was a little bossy, but I was just being grateful as I rushed her along.

I try to bark for a treat each time I come in from outside.  That does not work.  Can’t blame a girl from trying!

My first morning, dad forgot to take off the alarm and it was loud.  Guess he is not used to a trip out before coffee.

Training my new peeps is a big job.  They are probably worth it because they loved me from the start.  I see a new routine of Wheel of Fortune, walks to the mailbox and visits to the park. 

That is all I have for now.  I will update you again when I teach them not to expect me to chase a ball.  If they throw it, they can go fetch it.  People!!!


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