I Rescued A Human Today

Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her.

I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn't be afraid. As she stopped at my kennel 

I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn't want her to know that I hadn't been walked today. Sometimes the overworked shelter keepers get too busy and I didn't want her to think poorly of them.

As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life.

She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship. A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well.

Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms.

I would promise to keep her safe.
I would promise to always be by her side.
I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes.

I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.

I rescued a human today.

Janine Allen




Written by Janine Allen CPDT, Rescue Me Dog's professional dog trainer. Janine's passion is working with people and their dogs. She provides demonstrations for those who have adopted shelter dogs, lends email support to adopted dog owners that need information beyond our Training Support Pages, and aids shelter staff and volunteers in understanding dog behavior to increase their adoptability. Copyright 2012 Rescue Me Dog; www.rescuemedog.org

A Senior's Sonnet

A Senior's Sonnet 

One by one, they pass by my cage, 

Too old, too worn, too broken, no way. 
Way past his time, he can't run and play. 
...Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way 

A little old man, arthritic and sore, 
It seems I am not wanted anymore. 
I once had a home, I once had a bed, 
A place that was warm, and where I was fed. 

Now my muzzle is grey, and my eyes slowly fail. 
Who wants a dog so old and so frail? 
My family decided I didn't belong, 
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong. 

Whatever excuse they made in their head, 
Can't justify how they left me for dead. 
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day, 
The younger dogs get adopted and driven away. 

When I had almost come to the end of my rope, 
You saw my face, and I finally had hope. 
You saw thru the grey, and the legs bent with age, 
And felt I still had life beyond this cage. 

You took me home, gave me food and a bed, 
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head. 
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low, 
You love me so dearly, you want me to know. 

I may have lived most of my life with another, 
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger. 
And I promise to return all the love I can give, 
To you, my dear person, as long as I live. 

I may be with you for a week, or for years, 
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears. 
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave, 
I know you will cry and your heart, it will grieve. 

And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new, 
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you. 
And I will brag to all who will hear, 
Of the person who made my last days so dear.
~ Anon


A Pup Guided by God’s Love

A Pup Guided by God’s Love

My yellow lab, Alex, a certified therapy dog, tugged at her leash and
trotted down the elementary school hallway, eager to get to the kids
we’d been visiting the past couple of months. She stopped at our usual
classroom. I straightened her red scarf and opened the door. But there
were no kids. Just the teacher. That’s odd, I thought.
For years, I’d prayed for the chance to raise a therapy dog, and Alex
was a natural. A whip-smart, energetic pup, she breezed through
obedience training and became certified at just a year old. Deep in my
heart, I knew Alex was meant to do good in the world. When one of her
instructors told me about Dog Tales, a volunteer group that visits
schools and libraries with therapy dogs, encouraging folks to read, it
sounded perfect. Alex loved kids so I signed her up. Our assignment
was the local elementary school. From our first visit, the kids bonded
to Alex. Every time we came back, the students couldn’t wait to sit
and read with Alex.
But that day, with our regular class missing, I wondered if we could
help at all. I worried about Alex. She needed to do her therapy work.
“I’m so sorry,” the teacher said. “I forgot to call you. The kids are
out working on a project today.” Alex sat next to me and whined.
“Could we visit another class?” I asked. The teacher thought for a
moment. “There is a class that would enjoy seeing ...”
“Perfect!” I said. She led the way down the hall, and Alex and I
followed. Then Alex stopped short in front of another door. “C’mon,
girl,” I said, tugging on her leash. But my normally obedient dog
wouldn’t budge. She wanted to, no, had to, enter this classroom. The
teacher asked the class if they’d like to meet Alex. Then she waved us
in. It was a small class, maybe ten kids. “Hi, everyone,” I said.
“This is Alex. ...”
Before I could finish, Alex made a beeline for a boy who was sitting
on the carpet, his head down. She snuggled up to him and put her chin
on his shoulder. The boy quietly put his arm around her.
I read a story to the kids. With each turn of the page, I caught a
glimpse of the boy stroking Alex’s coat. She never left his side.
That’s funny, I thought. Usually Alex makes her rounds and visits with
all the kids. After we said our good-byes, the teacher walked over.
“May I please speak to you in the hallway?”
“Of course,” I said, following her.
“I know you have a schedule, but could Alex visit us each week too?”
“We’d love to,” I said. Then I saw tears in her eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head and pointed to the little boy. “He’s been depressed
for months. We’ve tried everything, and we just can’t break through to
him. But it looks like Alex has.”
Alex and I kept going back to that classroom. Each week that little
boy brightened a bit more. Today he’s a happy fifth grader, who still
gets visits from Alex and me. Who could’ve known Alex would make such
a big difference in a child’s life? But that’s what happens sometimes,
isn’t it? We ask God to give us opportunities to help, and He leads us
to where we’re needed. Or rather, He led my dog.

There was no name attached.

The Last Battle

The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak and pain should keep me from my sleep, 
Then wil you do what must be done, for this — the last battle — can't be won.
You will be sad I understand, but don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest, your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years, you wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.
Take me to where  to my needs they'll tend, 
Only, stay with me till the end.
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me 
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do
We've been so close — we two — these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.


Author: Unknown

Why Rescue?

Why Rescue?


OK, so I’m not the perfect cat.   I’m not just right – I might be too big, or too small; too vocal, or too quiet. I may also have some medical issues, and I don’t have my complete medical history with me to explain why.  I may have been exposed to parasites: worms, fleas, ticks, or ear mites. I may have some kind of intestinal upsets, and I may not have perfect stools every time. 


Behaviorally, I have a little baggage. I may not be able to walk right into your home perfectly well adjusted.  I may take issue if there is another cat, dog or child, no matter what age or sex and may show my fear in a variety of ways.  I may not love everyone immediately and I may not do exactly what you want in the beginning.  I may not be able to adapt to any situation.  I may get confused about the litter box, and might even make a mistake, no matter what litter you use, where the pan is, or how often you clean it. 


Emotionally? I may have some idiosyncrasies. I may nip, swat, hiss, put my ears back, hide, cower or tremble. I may look at you with fear, and distrust, and concern. It might take several months, or even a year before I can begin to trust again. 


I am one of society’s throwaways. 
Is this the cat you’re looking for? 


If not, maybe you should look elsewhere. Please don’t ask to take me home, because I have already been rejected far too many times already and would rather stay at the shelter than be given one more reason to mistrust people again. 


I am one of a group of cats. A group that has been dumped in the shelters, booted out the doors, kicked, hit, beaten, yelled at, shot, cursed, thrown from moving cars, left to fend on our own. A group of cats that has learned that humans are NOT kind and society is NOT fair and life is NOT comfortable. A group of cats that didn’t have good prenatal care, that don’t know where our next meal was coming from, that have lived outside through hot and cold and dug through garbage to find enough to eat. We are the cats that have been flea bitten and worm ridden and burned with hot oil. We are the cats who have been hit by cars and left for dead; who have swallowed stones and ribbons and had nothing but intestinal upsets; who have loose stools or who have stools that are so hard they can barely pass. We have been told we were too loud, too messy, or we didn’t match the new furniture. We have been chased by dogs, had our tails pulled by kids, and been bullied by other cats.  Some of us have never known a litter box, let alone a clean one. We have watched our loving family drive off one day without a backward glance after 15 years; we have been replaced after ten years with a new puppy. We look at you with big round eyes full of fear and terror, and occasionally hatred, and yes, deep down, with a little hope. We are the cats in Rescue. 


Why, then, would anyone possibly want one of us? 
The reasons are endless. 


We need you. We deserve to be loved, to have a second chance, to learn how to trust again.  We have been at the mercy of our surroundings; it is up to you to care for us.  You, as part of the race that has caused this overpopulation of animals; you, who as part of the species, some of whose members have mistreated and misplaced these deserving creatures, owe it to us to care. You should be setting examples for the next generation – that this should not be a throwaway society that we can and should be doing something about it. We can be your FAMILY members, members who share in your joys, your sorrows, your misfortunes and your luck. We are here when you need someone to talk to, to comfort, and to be comforted. We lick your tears and pat your face and snuggle under your chin. We like you for you, and we ask so little from you.  A pat, a scratch, the toss of a ball, a kind word, we repay you with loyalty and adoration and faithful friendship. 


You may have to earn it, this is true, and we may be so damaged by our previous experiences that we'll never be "The Perfect" cat, but the appreciation that emanates from our eyes; the love that we share when we realize we are safe, secure, and home forever, is a gift that cannot be bought.  We have seen rough times, yes, but if we are willing to give you a second chance, why won’t you give us one?
~~ unknown ~~


I Tried

I Tried

Before you die, unwanted one,
I swear there was no way,
I tried --I did! -- I promise...
I cried, I cursed, I prayed.

I mailed, I called, I pleaded,
for one to make room for you,
but only Heaven responded,
and there you'll find your due.

You've the most honest eyes I've seen,
a heart so loyal and true --
but our society has decided,
you've no purpose or value.

I wish that I could change things,
you've been wronged -- it is not right!
But all I can offer, Precious...
a gentle passing into that good night.

Jim Willis , a rescuer, wrote this sadly beautiful poem

Interview at the Dog Pound

Interview at the Dog Pound

As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.

I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here. This is a Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.

The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.

We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.

"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."


I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. "Hello?" I said. "May I come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.

"Enter," was all he said.

I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.

"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not looking at me.

"Why are you here Pete?" I asked.

"I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police
came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?" Pete shivered even more.

A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.

"Thank you Pete." I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.


The kennel next to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.

"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head. "Are you here to take me home?"

"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."

"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?" I asked.

Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.

"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together." He looked confused. "Why
won't they stay in a group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a
month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here."

Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?"

"I will Popper," I said.


My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler . He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.

"Hello. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a reporter," I replied. "May I speak with you for a little while?"

"Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You can come in, I won't bite," he said.

"Thank you Spartan. I will."

I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.

"Spartan, why are you here?"

Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.

"Please excuse me," he said when it passed. "Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. "Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can't even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a
day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends with everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled.

When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn't a bad dog. That made him beat me more." Spartan's eyes clouded with grief. "Then he
brought me here."

I reached out and stroked Spartan's massive gentle head once more. "I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil." I gave him a kiss and left
his kennel.

As I walked away, Spartan called out, "What will happen to me, nice lady?"

I shook my head. "I can't say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope."


I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. "Hello?" I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.

"Don't go near her," a small female voice came from behind me. "She's mad."

I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.

"Thanks for the warning," I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Patsy." The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.

"My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn't bother to look into the type of dog I am." Patsy heaved a sigh.

"I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie, but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play." She glanced at her surroundings. "Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like.her." Patsy looked towards the still growling dog
across the way.

"What happened to make her so vicious?" I asked.

"From what we could gather," she replied. "she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbour came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace."

Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet.

I whispered to Patsy, "Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?"

Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. "SHE is a Rescuer. Can't you smell it?" she asked.

"Smell what?" I was confused.

"Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet." Patsy looked hopeful.

The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan's cage and spoke quietly to him.

"No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me. From here on in, it's all going to get better."

The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.

Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.

"I am so sorry Patsy," I said in a whisper. "But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon." Patsy's brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.

I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved.
I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete's kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.

The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say "I'm sorry old boy."

He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog's head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.


~ author unknown

Pet Store Puppy

Pet Store Puppy

I don’t remember much from the place I was born.It was cramped and dark, and we were never played with by the humans.I remember Mom and her soft fur, but she was often sick, and very thin.She had hardly any milk for me and my brothers and sisters.I remember many of them dying, and I missed them so.

So many sights and sounds, and smells! We are in a store where there are many different animals!Some that squawk! Some that meow! Some that Peep! My sister and I are jammed into a small cage, I hear other puppies here.I see humans look at me, I like the ‘little humans’, the kids.They look so sweet and fun, like they would play with me!All day we stay in the small cage, sometimes mean people will hit the glass and frighten us, every once in a while we are taken out to be held or shown to humans.Some are gentle, some hurt us, we always hear “Aw they are so cute! I want one!” but we never get to go with any.

My sister died last night, when the store was dark.I lay my head on her soft fur and felt the life leave her small thin body.I had heard them say she was sick, and that I should be sold at a “discount price” so that I would quickly leave the store.I think my soft whine was the only one that mourned for her as her body was taken out of the cage in the morning and dumped.

Today a family came and bought me! Oh happy day! They are a nice family, they really, really wanted me! They had bought a dish and food and the little girl held me so tenderly in her arms. I love her so much!The mom and dad say what a sweet and good puppy I am! I am named Angel.I love to lick my new humans!

The family takes such good care of me, they are loving and tender and sweet.They gently teach me right and give me good food, and lots of love!I want only to please these wonderful people! I love the little girl and I enjoy running and playing with her. Today I went to the veterinarian.It was a strange place and I was frightened.I got some shots, but my best friend the little girl held me softly and said it would be OK.So I relaxed.The Vet must have said sad words to my beloved family, because they looked awfully sad.I heard severe hip dysplasia, and something about my heart… I heard the vet say something about back yard breeders and my parents not being tested. I know not what any of that means, just that it hurts me to see my family so sad.But they still love me, and I still love them very much!

I am 6 months old now. Where most other puppies are robust and rowdy, it hurts me terribly just to move.The pain never lets up.It hurts to run and play with my beloved little girl, and I find it hard to breath.I keep trying my best to be the strong pup I know I am supposed to be, but it is so hard.It breaks my heart to see the little girl so sad, and to hear the mom and dad talk about “it might now be the time”.Several times I have gone to that veterinarians place, and the news is never good.Always talk about congenital problems.I just want to feel the warm sunshine and run, and play and nuzzle with my family.

Last night was the worst, pain has been my constant companion now, it hurts even to get up and get a drink.I try to get up but can only whine in pain.I am taken in the car one last time. Everyone is so sad, and I don’t know why. Have I been bad? I try to be good and loving, what have I done wrong? Oh if only this pain would be gone!If only I could soothe the tears of the little girl. I reach out my muzzle to lick her hand, but can only whine in pain.

The veterinarian’s table is so cold.I am so frightened.The humans all hug and love me, they cry into my soft fur.I can feel their love and sadness.I manage to lick softly their hands.Even the vet doesn’t seem so scary today. He is gentle and I sense some kind of relief for my pain.The little girl holds me softly and I thank her, for giving me all her love.I feel a soft pinch in my foreleg.The pain is beginning to lift, I am beginning to feel a peace descend upon me.I can now softly lick her hand. My vision is becoming dreamlike now, and I see my Mother and my brothers and sister, in a far off green place.They tell me there is no pain there, only peace and happiness.I tell the family, good-bye in the only way I know how, a soft wag of my tail and a nuzzle of my nose.I had hope to spend many, many moons with them, but it was not meant to be.“You see,” said the veterinarian, “Pet shop puppies do not come from ethical breeders.”The pain ends now, and I know it will be many years until I see my beloved family again.If only things could have been different.

(This story may be published or reprinted in the hopes that it will stop unethical breeders and those who breed only for money and not for the betterment of the Breed. )

Copyright 1999 J. Ellis

Just A Dog

Just a Dog

From time to time, people tell me,
"lighten up, it's just a dog,"
or, "that's a lot of money for just a dog."
They don't understand the distance traveled,
the time spent, or the costs involved for "just a dog."

Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."
Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog,"
but I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog,"
and in those days of darkness,
the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's "just a dog,"
then you will probably understand phases like
"just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise."

"Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.
"Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person.
Because of "just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.

So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog"
but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future,
the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
"Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and
diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog"
but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a man."
So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog." just smile,
because they "just don't understand.


~ author unknown

Foster Poem

Foster Poem

There I sat, alone and afraid,
You got a call and came right to my aid.
You bundled me up with blankets and love.
And, when I needed it most, you gave me a hug.
I learned that the world was not all that scary and cold.
That sometimes there is someone to have and to hold.
You taught me what love is, you helped me to mend.
You loved me and healed me and became my first friend.
And just when I thought you'd done all you do,
There came along not one new lesson, but two.
First you said, "Sweetheart, you're ready to go.
I've done all I can, and you've learned all I know."
Then you bundled me up with a blanket and kiss.
Along came a new family, they even have kids!
They took me to their home, forever to stay.

At first I thought you sent me away.
Then that second lesson became perfectly clear.
No matter how far, you will always be near.
And so, Foster Mom, you know I've moved on.
I have a new home, with toys and a lawn.
But I'll never forget what I learned that first day.
You never really give your fosters away.
You gave me these thoughts to remember you by.
We may never meet again, and now I know why.
You'll remember I lived with you for a time.
I may not be yours, but you'll always be mine.

- Author Unknown

Dogs Live Here

Dog's Live Here 

If you don't want to be greeted with paws and swinging tails,
don't come inside-because DOGS live here.

If you don't like the feel of a cold nose or a wet tongue,
don't come inside-because DOGS live here.

If you don't want to step over many scattered toys,
don't come inside-because DOGS live here.

If you think that a home ought to smell like perfume,
don't come inside-because DOGS live here.

But if you don't mind all this, you will instantly be loved when you do come inside-because DOGS live here.

David Lester
Humane Society Volunteer