After our little dog died several years ago we didn’t have the heart to adopt another one. Too painful to lose them, but the lack of dog in your life is awful too. At my age, though, it just doesn’t seem fair to give a dog what might be a temporary home. What if I died before the dog – what would happen to it then? Anyway, I love dogs!
The story of Zoey Mojave began for us with the death of our Pointer, Choko. Choko died in January. He had lived with us for eight years, from the time we adopted him and he dove onto my husband’s lap for the brief ride home, licking my husband’s face and spinning in excitement as I strained to focus on the road. In March, we drove four hours to meet Zoey, at an appointment sanctioned by the Weimaraner Rescue group which was boarding her at a pristine private kennel behind a Modesto suburb orchard. When we arrived, the kennel owner wasn’t there but her assistant was expecting us. Despite the assistant’s pearl-smooth skin, she was graying at the temples and might have seemed a bit beleaguered, were she not so determined to do a good job.
“We’re here to adopt Zoey,” I stated matter-of-factly.
I can’t explain how but I knew from the moment I saw Zoey’s photo on the Rescue website that she was going to be our dog. In that photo, taken through the bars of her kennel, she appeared empty-eyed, slightly thin, sad and a bit lost but not as tragic as some of the…
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