Yes, it's true. I think I may have an addiction to cute furry things with four legs. (reptiles need not apply!)
I've been bringing home strays for as long as I can remember--whether it was a kitten I rescued from under a dumpster or a dog I chased down a busy freeway while wearing three inch heels, I've always desired to save every single animal. And considering we had two dogs, two mice and three fish, I was already well on my way! (Chickens and pigs, I'm coming for you next!)
In hindsight, the hubs should have known better than to send me solo to the pound with the kids. I *may* have told him that we were just going to *look* at cats. We had recently discovered some mice--and not the sweet little ones that ran nonstop on that kickass wheel in their luxury cage, but the kind that had gnawed their way into the rice krispies. I used this tidbit of information to convince my husband that this meant we MUST immediately bring home the toothless, drooling tomcat that currently resided at the kids' music school. He countered with the idea of simply purchasing mousetraps, but I argued that getting eaten by a formerly homeless cat with no teeth would be a much more dignified way for a mouse to die.
He rolled his eyes. I chose to interpret this as agreement.
But alas, the homeless cat was nowhere to be found that week. Or the next. So I packed the kids after school one day and headed to the shelter. Apparently, we had stumbled in during Catapooloza--cats were $5 each! And the second was free! I texted this discovery to the hubs. He did not respond.
But as we sauntered down the hallway to Cat Cottage, our eyes were drawn to a crying puppy curled up in her cage. Most of her hair was missing and her eyes drawn and defeated. We crouched down to get a closer look-- it was clear that she had a terrible case of mange. Our last dog we rescued had also been mange-ridden, but not nearly as bad. This poor pup was missing over half her fur and seemed severely malnourished. The kids eyes filled with tears and they named her Lily on the spot.
Needless to say, we never made it to Cat Cottage. I bought mousetraps on the way home.
Twenty five pounds and several overpriced vet visits later, Lily is finally starting to resemble the dog she was meant to be--she's transformed from a scared little girl who trembled as she gulped her food to a confident young lady who loves life and other dogs. Her hair is almost grown back in, revealing an incredible golden coat that feels like silk when you rub her belly.
And we couldn't be happier. The hubs has even gotten over the fact that I *may* not have officially *asked* him before bringing Lily home.(Answer your texts, damnit!) And in return, Lily has stopped peeing on the floor each time he pets her. Last week, our vet whispered in Lily's ear how lucky she is. But I like to think that we are the lucky ones. (Except for the the two "presents" she left by my bedroom door this week--I could do without that...)
What about you? Love animals? Have a good rescue story? Tell me!