My first home wasn’t a very nice one. The people didn’t like me. They didn’t pet me or talk to me. Sometimes they forgot to feed me or let me in the house, even when I cried. But I didn’t know life could be any different.
And then it was.
My mother found me on Craigslist. The ad said, “Dog needs home,” and then a phone number. That was it.
And so she called. She wanted to know why they didn’t want me. Why did I need a new home.
They said they were too busy for the Dog. The Dog wanted too much attention. The Dog made their house too dirty.
I didn’t have a name then. They just called me The Dog.
When my mother saw me at their house, I was curled up in a corner on a little towel. She looked at my sad eyes – that was all she needed to know.
She sat down on the floor next to me, rubbed my head, scratched under my chin, and asked if I wanted to go home with her. I put my paw on her arm. It was a Yes.
When we got home, she gave me my first name ever. She gave me a bed with a pillow and lots of kisses on the nose. It was all new to me. It was a different life. I was happy for the first time.