Adopting Pets

For some reason I’ve been thinking about strays and adopting and all that recently, which has me think of my first dog. I can still remember it near perfect how it was when I first got her. I was maybe about seven, and my family and I went over to a neighbor’s house, the guy being pretty much like an uncle to my brother and I. I don’t know how long it was until I asked where the bathroom was, got directions, and…went tot eh wrong room. I saw a Tweety Bird hanging on the outside of the door, assumed it was the bathroom because my favorite cartoon character was there or so, opened the door and out ran a black and brown dog into the living room. I of course followed. My brother and I pretty much fawned over her and how fluffy she was and how sweet. Considering how old she was, maybe eight or ten by then, it really was amazing how sweet and responding she was to us. My sorta-kinda uncle explained to us how he found her on the road, after having been hit by a car. How he took her in and might have to get rid of her.

And cue the pleading form my brother and I if we could keep her. Our parents said to ask Mr. J (that’s what I’ll call him for now), and we did. And…well, we brought Gypsy home with us. Of course my parents had known ahead of time about the dog and had already said they’d take her and all, but still. Gypsy really was much too sweet for her age, especially with how we were pretty sure she had been living on the street for a while; some of her habits made it obvious. Yes, she clearly had lived with people at some point, but not for a while. Her teeth were a giveaway…and how she may have eaten a baby squirrel once also was a giveaway. But she put up with me and my brother and only really snapped at either of us (my brother) when she was a few years older and had gray on her muzzle and elsewhere. And then, by some miracle and a dog jumping our fence, Gypsy gave us another little furry baby; my current dog, Oreo.

Gypsy clearly loved us. She lived a long time, much longer than most dogs do, for one. And, well, the day that it became evident she was at the end of it all, she waited for my dad to get home. She wanted to say goodbye to each of us, clearly, and she waited for him to come home and see her before she…left. It still makes me tear up now, because she was my childhood pet and I loved her dearly, but the fact she waited for us all… It makes me know that she loved us as much as we loved her.

People tend to not want to adopt older animals, and I get that. But…sometimes they are the sweetest things and the ones that need the most love. Don’t get me wrong, adopting younger dogs is a great thing, too, but people shouldn’t shy away from the older ones because they think they won’t adjust so well. They will. Dogs, well, they’re like people almost. They want love. Yes, some dogs are incapable of being nice and sweet because of everything that happened in their lives, but that’s not all of them. I cannot speak for cats, but I’m sure it’s much the same.

If you’re going to adopt a pet, adopt one that seems to speak to you somehow. Like…it just connects. Don’t worry about its age, it’ll love you all the same. Give the older animals a chance as much as you would give the younger ones.

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