Sunday, July 7, 2013

New Kids Two Years Later

I cannot help but marvel at the diverse personalities of my furry kids who have spent their later years in my home.

Cyrus was the eternal misbehaving boy.  Entirely my fault and I blame it on my youth and inexperience.  But so loved by me. 


Sheba and Sasha.  I mention them together because my calico and tortie/calico were just a year apart and left just a year apart.  My cuddle birds who would swipe anyone who petted them. 

Smokey.  18 years ago, neighbor kids knocked on the front door with two wee kittens.  Which one do you want, they asked.  I didn't realize I was looking for another kitty, but... I apparently chose the kitten with the most attitude.  In September, we will celebrate his 19th birthday.  And he still has a 'tude, but deaf now, he doesn't know it.
Britty.  She spent 9 years tied out in a back yard until the owner tried to encourage her to run away.  I’ll leave my comments about him off here.  Needless to say my terrified girl came home to me and spend her last 4 years in comfort.

Berry.  The bounceback greyhound and my first grey.  Adopted from wonderful fosters, but through a divorce, found herself unwanted.  And I suspect not treated well.  Her remaining 6 years were spent making her comfortable and learning to trust.  Newness was not a good thing to her.  My friend taking her leash on a walk resulted in wide eyes and backing away.  A remodel of the kitchen, the gutting of it had her unglued.  Sweet little girl.  MI REGAP, thank you!!

Schemie.  Ah, what can I say.  My black GSD/lab boy.  Coming up on 2 years now he left.  My sidekick and the most amiable boy in the world.  And my world.

And now.

DeeDee and Craigie (adopted the year I lost Berry and Schemie).  So diversely different. 
USA Defenders of Greyhounds, thank you!!!

Dee is the little prissy girl.  Craig is the BOY.  Pure boy…

Princess learned to dig from Dork.  Nice…

I only started writing this after I watched them eat tonight, so I may as well finish it.

Dee must sniff every morsel of food first before she will eat.  She spits out kibble bits until she gets to the homemade food.

Craigie would plow through a bowl of mud and not notice.  So he “hoovers” the food, then shoves her away from her bowl to get the kibbles on the floor.

Can mom get a bit of appreciation here?  You came from tracks and the racing industry.  Guessing you weren’t given homemade food there… 

Candlelight meals for them are out of the question.

A post not worthy of sharing, but the joy these 2 rescued houndies bring me is noteworthy.  2 more saved from the racing industry.  2 more in loving homes.  2 more to patch a broken heart.


Adoption rocks!!!

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