I am SOOO much happier now! I was hurt and homeless, but not any more!

Hey, I’m a rescue too (and that rhymes… woof). I’m just over a year old, but it was a tough year. Had an injured leg & distemper, but the sweet humans at the Humane Society took care of me until I was healthy enough to be adopted. I knew by this time my name is “Scooby Doo”, but I don’t remember who first called me that.

A couple of humans (why are the big ones always in pairs?) showed up that next weekend, and I could just tell they were going to love me. And I loved them! We played in the yard, I got my belly rubbed, and I leaned up against them as hard as I could when they were sitting & petting me so they’d know what a good boy I am. And it worked! They took me home!

It’s a small house, but has a nice big yard, and I love sleeping on the couches & chairs in the living room (though it seems I don’t fit quite so well in the chair these days). But then I made a big mistake. Dad had taken me to the park early one morning, then brought me back home, said goodbye, and went out again in that big rolling grey thing. Mom hadn’t been there since the day before, and I panicked. I found a way to get out of the yard to follow Dad. But his rolling thing was too fast. Somehow I found myself on an unfamiliar street. 🙁

But then, I saw some potential 4-legged friends heading my way! I was about to say “Hi, let’s play!” when they all attacked me – my dog friends in the yard next door would NEVER have done that, I couldn’t believe it! I still don’t know why they didn’t like me, but I guess I was just in the wrong place. The next thing I remember, Dad showed up and pulled me away from those awful dogs, loaded me in the rolling thing, and off we went – although I was barely conscious covered in saliva (ew!) and blood (double EW!), and in a lot of pain. Dad was very upset, and kept reassuring me that he would help and that I would be okay. I don’t think I really believed that at the time.

Finally we stopped, and Dad left the car. I didn’t like that, but I didn’t have enough strength to object. Soon Dad came back with two other very nice humans. Since I couldn’t walk, they stretched a big blanket between them, and carried me inside the building where we had stopped.

I’m not sure what happened next, I was awake, but foggy. And they gave me something that made me feel weird – but it helped stop the pain. Next thing I can remember clearly was Dad showing up to take me home. It was dark outside – had I been in that building all day? The nice humans helped Dad get me in the big grey thing (by now I know we use that thing when Mom or Dad says “go for a ride?”)

Dad had some trouble getting me from the car into the house by himself. I had already been getting big at the shelter, and had grown some more over those two weeks (and even more since then – I’m not really sure how big I am, but now if I “sit” on the couch when they’re sitting in the room, I’m taller