The rain poured down, making it hard to stand up. My legs were weak; every step I took felt like needles shooting through me. I could barely make out the shadows of the bushes and trees I was trying to find shelter under. I have no idea how long I had been wandering in the big fields. All I know is I was glad to be out of the “prison.” The mean people at the “prison” only wanted me to make babies, but they always took the babies away from me.
My prison cage smelled really bad because I had to eat, sleep and mess in the same spot, with barely enough room to turn around. It was hard to stand up. My legs hurt terribly.
I lived like this for a long, long time. Actually, it was all I ever knew. This was my life.
That is until one day two of the mean humans took me out of my cage into a big metal box that rolled on round things. I think they call it a car.
I sat by myself in the back seat, trembling with fear, while the mean people took turns yelling at me to stop shaking. The more they yelled, the more I shook. I couldn’t stop trembling. It was almost impossible for me to see anything what with the infection in my eyes and the tears welling up. Sadness and uncertainty had overtaken me.
"Toss her out here," one of the mean people growled. The car barely slowed down as I flew through the air and hit the ground with a "thump." I could hardly move, but somehow made my way under a bush. I just wanted to lie down and sleep.
I don’t know how long I slept. When I awoke, I struggled to stand up, but fell right back down. I tried and tried and tried. If I leaned on one side and drug myself I was able to move a few inches. I had no idea where I was going; I just knew I needed to move.
I crossed over roads, through fields and water and more fields. Then, voices stopped me in my tracks.
"Oh no. The mean humans. No, please no." I froze. I lay very still hoping no one would see me. But the voices were different. They were softer, gentler.
"What’s that?" the lady asked. "I don’t know," the man answered. Next thing I knew I was up in the air, being held. But I felt safe. These people were gentle. Soft. Kind.
The nice lady took me to her daughter, Karen’s home, who lived close by. It didn’t take long for me to know I had found where I wanted to live. Other dogs, two cats and some horses also lived at the home. I liked it here.
By nightfall, I had been taken to a doggie beauty parlor and a doggie doctor. It felt so good to get all my hair shaved off. It was so matted, dirty and stinky, covering my eyes. It hurt just to move. The doggie doctor was so gentle. She gave me some medicine to relieve my pain.
I believe in miracles. They say I’m a miracle. Mostly, because what should have been a week, maybe a little more, before I went to doggie heaven, has become nearly a year since I came to live with Kathleen and Karen and my brothers, Chance and Max.
Sure, I had a few surgeries to remove dozens of tumors on my belly, had all but five teeth pulled because they were rotting in my mouth, and I can barely hear or see, but with all the love I get from the two nice ladies, and how much fun I have with my brothers, I couldn’t be happier.
From what Chance tells me, he was in a really bad situation before the nice ladies found him at an animal shelter. Other dogs that are trained to fight had beaten him up. When he came here, he was full of scars on his head with ears that were nearly ripped off. With lots of love and care, his scars are all gone. Today, Chance is a happy, happy dog.
Even though I’m so happy, I sometimes get sad. Sad, when I think about other dogs who live like Chance and I used to. Abused, neglected and unloved. That’s why I love my mommies so much. They help dogs, horses, cats and other fur babies like me.
I’m Delaney, a ten-pound Shiatsu … and you have just read my story.