Jan 27th, 2021, an old Florida dog came to become a Smith.
Picked up by animal control, he weighed 33 lbs at intake. This is two weeks later.
His first night at home, he crawled up into my guest bed, peed and pooped, then laid in it for warmth.
Whoever turned him out at the rip old age of 12 gave him no chance of survival.
His teeth had been mechanically filed down, he couldn't grasp any potential food or defend himself. Top and bottom incisors and canines ground right to the gum line.
My Dewalt grinder and I would love, love, love to have some alone time with his former owner.
Eventually his fur grew back, we whacked off some tumors, he put on over 45 lbs and bloomed into the most beautiful soul.
This is what I live for: their eyes. The journey from dead to joyful.
Couch potato who loved to carry around his purple dinosaur.
When cancer struck in January 2022, the pathologist gave him 3 to 6 months to live. He lost his spleen, but not his desire to live.
Sorry, ain't got time for dying, we had places to be, naps to be had.
Another large tumor was removed in mid August.
He rallied for a week, convincing me he was going to live until 20.
Not to be. Cancer from within was calling, no outrunning it this time. I made the call, he'd had 3 bad days in a row. My motto: maybe a day early, but never a minute too late.
Saturday morning, Connor Smith went over the Rainbow Bridge. It never gets easier. They live with me, sleep in my bed, we study together, they come to work with me. It's an amazing feeling to have a pack, it's utterly destroying to lose a member.
Then the Universe stepped in and a friend brought a Great Dane puppy in need of new digs.
Could he look anymore like Connor? This little 16 week old nugget graced my life for only a day before going off to his new home.
We made the most of it.
Life serendipitously sent me what I needed: the reassurance that love is a thread that winds its way through all of our lives. Let it in.