Some day when I have one home and am no longer shuttling back and forth from our coastal home to our urban dwelling, I shall have a dog…and a cat or two. And when the day comes, I will look for a dog like Winnie in character. She is ever so loving, loyal, and sweet. She is a joy to walk and hike with. Winnie is a rescue dog and she has brought so much joy to her adoptive parents as well as to me.
Winnie is a rescue dog and is from the Wenatchee shelter. When the time comes for me to select my furry companions, I will go to a shelter and rescue them. I did a little research on the cats and dogs found in the shelters and I was a bit shocked at my findings:
- Only 1 out of every 10 dogs born will find a permanent home.
- The main reasons animals are in shelters are the following: owners give them up, or animal control finds them on the street.
- Homeless animals outnumber homeless people 5 to 1.
- 4. 3 to 4 million dogs and cats are killed every year because shelters are too full and there aren’t enough adoptive homes.
- Each year, approximately 2.7 million animals are euthanized because they do not get adopted.
Winnie is perfect in every way! She is:
Into Taking Walks
Into Smelling Everything along the Trail and Beach
My dad used to tell the story about a dog his family had when he was a boy. Late 1920s and hard times hit. My father’s parents were struggling to put food on the table and in the dog’s food bowl. Some days, they all went without a proper meal. And some days, Nonna managed to scrape up some bread and meat scraps to make a broth. No matter how little they had, they always shared their meager meal portions with their beloved dog. One day, Nonno (Grandfather Gallo) announced he couldn’t stand it anymore, the dog was skin and bones. At this point in the story, my father’s lower lip would tremble. He’d try hard to compose himself to finish the story. The next morning, Nonno carted the dog off to a farm many miles away. The owner of the farm was a friend of Nonno’s who raised and butchered beef. At least, the dog would have enough to eat. My father’s composure broke down completely at the end of the story: About a month later, the dog showed up again at my father’s house. He had found his way back on his own! The arduous journey took a huge toll on the dog, but my father’s family nursed the dog back to health. They decided right then and there that they would keep the dog and make do, meager scraps and all. They would all survive together.