I lost my beloved Katy this week. She was my thirteen year old Aussie who, with her sister, I adopted from a rescue group when they were nine months old.
Katy was a gentle soul who happily greeted everyone on walks and wanted nothing more than to have a home. Whereas her sister, Allie, would run off to try to find other beings to herd, Katy wanted only to stay at my side.
She’s had a hard couple of years. She had operations on both her rear legs, then had arthritis and Cushings disease which eventually won out. But her tail never stopped wagging.
After losing her, I did what I’ve done before. A hole in my heart needed filling. I went to a dog adoption hosted by a rescue group and found a small elderly dog in dire need of a home. She’s still in the shy stage, not quite sure what is going on after being shuttled from foster home to foster home, but she’s now following me everywhere and making herself at home. She’s just leaning how to go for a walk.
Her name is Anna. I think Katy would approve, having followed another one of my dogs.
She joins Little Guy, an elderly poodle I adopted after Katy’s sister died. Little Guy is a true joy and he seems just fine with the newcomer. Older dogs, I’ve discovered, are very hard for rescue groups to adopt out. Little Guy, for instance, was up for adoption for eight months, and he is such a happy, joyous little fellow now.
Dogs — and some times other animals, including a pig in one of my westerns –often play major roles in my books. There give so much and want only a bit of care and love in return. How could my heroes and heroines turn away from them.