It was just over a year ago that we got the news that Ozzie had lymphoma. Just three months later, I had to let him go.
If you've ever lost a furry baby, then you already know what the last nine months have been like.
Yeah. That. And in the past several weeks, I think I have felt that emptiness just as much as I did during that first month or so where I was still expecting to see him in the morning and laying a certain way so as not to kick him!
My mother has asked me several times if I wanted to get another dog and I've said no. And then the other night, at the conclusion of an episode of "Property Brothers," the twins brought their client family a dog … a little Yorkie. It was more than my heart could stand. And I lost it.
I know my mom felt bad herself and then more so for me. "Isn't there a Yorkie rescue?" she asked. "There are lots of babies out there that need a home." She is so right. I really don't want to go the puppy route again. This time, I'd like to give one a home for whom it would be the equivalent of winning the lottery.
So I did something I hadn't in a while: I did a local shelter search (less than 50 miles) and about five Yorkie/Yorkie mixes came up! There is one little guy who sounds perfect but I can't get the shelter to respond.
I figure though that if it's meant to be, it will be. Otherwise, I'll keep looking.
Hopefully, you'll see me back here regularly again soon, this time posting about our new addition. It would be nice to have such happy posts again!
