I adopted my first dog, Bonnie, shortly after moving to Texas. She was part of a raid made on a large puppy mill and was in a sorry state when I met her a few days afterward. She was approximately five years old, who knows how many puppies she had given birth to. Bonnie still had three pink staples in her abdomen from her recent spay, sores around her eyes, and little fur as she had been completely shaved because she had been full of fleas. She was also terribly dejected looking, underweight, and thoroughly exhausted. When I was talking to the rescue lady who brought her to my house for the home visit, she jumped into my lap and fell fast asleep! She didn’t even bark for about the first six weeks I had her. I even wondered if she could, but now I have no doubt.
Over the years I have fostered a few dogs and she has always been loving toward them, the “mom” nurturer in her I guess. We also visited assisted living facilities where she was a hit. She enjoyed all the attention and was very gentle with the residents. My friends all mention how pretty and friendly she is. Eight years later, and my little girl is still going strong. Bonnie now has brothers and sisters, and is the oldest of her pack. Now that she is in the twilight of her years, the things she enjoys most are sleeping late and her walks.