Danise, seems like a good reason to me. It is surprising what can trigger ones emotions, more than often it is little things, like Bear's birthday.
When you are ready, please tell the story of the day you got Bear.
Oh there isn't much to tell about that.
My dog, Solo, had passed away. It had only been about a week but I was really missing having a dog to greet me at the front door.
Mom was going to have eye surgery and I thought we would have to wait until that was over with before we could even think about a dog.
What she had done was laser surgery but neither of us knew what to expect. She came through the surgery that morning and since there was no blood or cut or anything except drops to put in her eyes she told me we could go look for a dog.
We had agreed that it would have to be a small dog because Mom was in her late 70's even then.
I called the pound (it was a Monday) and found out they were closed.
We went to Walmart to have one of her prescriptions filled and were in the car when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a boy bend over a very large box.
I told Mom that there were either puppies or kittens in that box. She said, "Let's go look!". I remember I told her that if it was puppies, if we looked, we would take one ( I knew her and myself to well). I reminded her that we wanted a small dog and had planned on getting one that was at least one year old so we would have an idea as to how big it would get.
She promised me we wouldn't just take any puppy.
Well, we went to the box and I picked out a fat little black puppy that was a male (Mom preferred males to a females) when she spotted a very tiny (much, much smaller then the other puppies) sitting in a corner of the box. She picked him up and lost her heart.
The woman promised he wouldn't get very big because his Mom was a full blooded bull terrier. They were going to breed her and she had gotten out on them. Bear is his Daddy's boy.
We were also told that he almost didn't make it because the other puppies kept pushing him away from his Mom. She had to take the others and put them in the box so he could get to his Mom's milk. He was the runt and number 13 of 13. He was all of 5 pounds when we brought him home.
And that was that.
The lady also said he would be 8 weeks old the next day. I counted back so June 7th is Bear's birthday.
She had taken the pups to the pound but had found it was closed so she brought them to the Walmart to see how many she could give away. Whatever was left would go to the pound the next day.
I can't tell you how many times I thought about that and how I wish I taken at least two of them. I wonder where the other 12 are. Were they loved? Were they tied to a tree someplace? Are they even still alive. I guess I'll never know.
I do know how much Mom and I both love Bear. He may have grown to a much bigger size then we wanted but neither of us would have traded him for the world.
She worried so about him. She kept saying she thought we were going to lose him because it was a big dog and they don't live so long. She wanted him buried with her.
I never imagined he would out live her. It hurts. I love Bear but it hurts.
