MY COUNTRY DOGS....

After I had to say goodbye to my dear Daisy Mae Foxhound in 2015, my heart was broken.  Life does go on, and one heals.  I still miss her sweet smiling eyes.  Friends that run the Humane Society in my area were wonderful.  They rescued a little special dog, yorkie mix and nursed him to health and well being.  Then Kirk intruded me to him, telling me that he would steal my heart.  I, of course, said no, but just looked at him.  The next time I went, I said I would hold him.  The next time, just a few days later, I held him again and watched him play a little with other dogs.  Then I told Kirk that he was right, this little tough guy was stealing my heart, and mending it also.  I adopted him or as they say, rescued him.  He actually rescued me.  As he sleeps next to me on the couch tonight, I could not love him any more, and I admire him also.  He is 2.5 years old now.  Such a wonderful dog.  He needed playmates so we adopted a little Italian Greyhound which we named Mr. Molesley, and later Vincent vG from a person who could not deal with a 4 month old maltese puppy.  My three country dogs are little, and busy and strong and healthy and happy.  I have been rescued times three and am grateful.

 My sweet sweet sweet Hemingway, yes named after Ernest.

 Mr. Molesley, small and fragile, named after character on Downton Abbey.

Little Vincent vG named after Vincent van Gogh.