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Annie was pulled less than an hour before scheduled death and I offered to foster her for a rescue that had tagged her. Because I was keeping her only until transport would be arranged, I tried very hard to not love her. In retrospect, I realize how foolish that was . . . and how it went against every fiber of my being. . . and how I was doomed to fail.

For quarantine purposes, she had the whole yard at the business facility to herself until I was sure the kennel cough was clear. Fortunately she never coughed and her first trip to the vet got her up to date on shots, and the vet also thought that animal control could be right about her being spayed, but I figured the rescue would be responsible for confirming that.  After all, I was just a “stopover” for Annie.

Her eyes were so captivating and she always waited patiently by the door until I came to feed her.  As it turned out, there was no rescue waiting for her or they backed out, so Annie had nowhere to go. Several people contacted some of the rescues to see if there was any interest  in her.  . . no one seemed to want her, despite the deep and kind eyes and her beautiful, unique coat.  So I made a decision and told her she could stay, and come to live with the rest of the dogs at home.

As I was brushing and stroking her, I noticed a “mass” in her abdomen.  All my dogs have always been spayed and neutered . . . so it’s a little difficult for me to recognize a pregnant dog until her teats begin to bag.

I called my vet and made an appointment for her . . . “she’s either pregnant or has a fast-growing tumor.”   Needless to say, she had 10 fast-growing “tumors” that arrived NOT within the estimated 2 weeks, but 3 days later.

This was going to be my first (and hopefully last) whelping and I was more anxious than Annie.  When I went over to feed her the morning of Wednesday, August 20th,  there they were . . . a nice little pile of warm puppies in a hole she had neatly dug as close to the house as possible.  She had delivered and taken care of EVERYTHING all by herself, as if she knew that I would stress had I been there.  One puppy was dead and she had gently moved him to the side away from the healthy ones.

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As I gave her breakfast, I gathered her babies in a blanket to move them inside.  Annie left her food temporarily to check on her pups, nuzzled them while they were in my lap,  her tail wagging as she looked up into my eyes.  It was clear that she was happy and proud of her little brood.  It was also clear that despite my efforts, I had fallen in love with her . . . a long time ago.  Love is love . . . you have no more control over it as you do over a thunderstorm.  What touched me the most was that it was almost as if Annie knew I was trying to not get “attached” . . . and she patiently and quietly waited as if to say, “It’s alright.  I’m going to love you anyway.”  That’s the heart of a dog.

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I have always said and firmly believe that dogs have a way of finding their way to the person or home that wants or needs them, and it’s magical when they do find you.

Yes,  Annie had found her way home.

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If you would like to help us save and retrain “death row” dogs like Annie,  please consider using the paypal button below to donate an amount that is comfortable for you so that we can continue to help those who are trapped on death row.

THANK YOU . . .  from ALL of us !





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