Our lovely German Shepherd died last week. Snoring at my feet today
is a fat Staffie. "Blimey that was quick," I hear you say, "not much
love lost there then!" Of course there was, lots of love lost, because
he was the best dog known to man.
We got him when he was eight
from the Oldies web site. He was scraggy, emaciated and had sad cloudy
eyes. The day before he died, last Monday, he was trotting in the woods,
meeting mates and having fun. A neighbour remarked on his lovely coat.
He was at least 12 and had to take pills to help with his achey joints.
On Tuesday I came downstairs to find him dead on the kitchen floor.
Later
that day we set off for our local Blue Cross and met the Staffie. He
needs a home too. Whlle we are fighting tears over our lovely lad, other
dogs are desperate for a good home. So now we have something entirely
different. It's better that way. Another German would have a hard act
to follow.
A Staffie is new to us, but already he is proving to
be an affectionate, and very comical friend. Such dogs have a hard time
in kennels. They need to be with people. We need them, so really there
is no time to lose, is there?
