Hannie was a Katrina dog. He got lost during the hurricane and like so many others, ended up at an animal shelter in Austin, Tx. A family adopted him and took care of him for 7 years, but when the father got sick and had to have chemo, they had to give him away. I heard about Hannie through my friend's mom and she told me the family was going to surrender him to a shelter because no one wanted a seven year old dog.
I agreed to take him in for one weekend, to see if he'd get along with my roommate's sheltie, but I never gave him back. For three years, Hannie lived with me. He was the funniest little old man. A tiny furball of a Pomeranian with a lot of attitude. He barked at dogs ten times his size, chased after squirrels and snored as loud as a human when he fell asleep on his back.
The only thing that terrified Hannie were loud noises and thunderstorms. Fire alarms, microwave beeps, ovens, car alarms. He would shake non-stop and climb up on my lap, on my chest, and curl up as close to me as he could. It's not hard to imagine why he had a PTSD, with everything he must have gone through.
After a year of having him, I had to move back home. It was a long flight, but he was a trooper. He laid down half on his carrier, half on my lap and slept most of the way. And when we got here, he got even more spoiled with food and attention by the entire family.
Unfortunately, he became sick a year and half ago, even after surgery, he didn't make it. But I'm grateful for the time I had with him and for the company he gave to me during this transition in my life. Hannie was a wonderful dog and he'll always be my little old man.