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Love is an eight-legged word… “Mayberry”

Gomer:

DogMom calls me many names… Goofy (like the Disney dog)… “dumpster dog”… scaredy-dog… snug-bug… You might think my name, “Gomer Pyle” comes from the TV show… but really, there’s another story that I’ll save for another time.

I was found along with my “real” dog-mom and siblings in a dumpster in AZ. Thrown out like garbage. It was late spring and getting hotter every day. Some volunteers from Friends for Life Animal Sanctuary found us and rescued us. I was about three months old, skinny and foraging for food. I’d been beaten; I was afraid of humans.

I spent some time in the hospital and in foster care. One day, I met DogMom at the shelter and started to trust her… JUST A LITTLE. She had just stopped in at the shelter to donate some stuff. (She had just helped Floppy cross the rainbow bridge.) She wasn’t looking for a puppy to take home.

But… she seemed to like my scared-little-self. Something about those “big eyes you have,” Gomer… Eventually, she adopted me. The first two days at her house, I hid under the counter and growled at her. She didn’t seem to mind. Whenever she looked at me, I growled. She sometimes growled back; she sometimes laughed at me. But, there was always food and water there… and she didn’t seem to want to hit me with the broom or kick me with her shoes like a lot of the humans I had seen before.

I was a real challenging specimen. The vets and behaviorists said I’d always be “feral.” I’d never be friendly and outgoing and happy-go-lucky; I’d never be a pet. But, DogMom wasn’t swayed. She kept taking me on new adventures (like on walks through the neighborhood) and exposing me to new experiences (like visits to PetSmart) all the time. The first time I went to the “bark park,” I sat in the corner, shaking, for an hour. The dogs scared me. The people scared me. The smells and sounds scared me.

Still, DogMom wasn’t swayed. She kept finding new things for me to see. She paid people hot dog bits and carrots and asked them to give them to me if they saw me on walks or at the park. Complete strangers giving me my favorite foods… how could I possibly NOT start to trust people?

Ok. So, men in baseball caps still freak me out. And, occasionally, I have relapses, which are usually just to see if I can get away with it. But, real four-legged love is nothing more than dogged determination in my book.

Opie:

Ok… Gomer might be goofy … but I’m the Dopey Opie! The cuddle-bug… the jumping bean… happy-hound. Guess I should thank him some day… ‘cuz my love story started when Gomer adopted me.

I had a family once. A different one than now. With a couple of human pups and everything. One day, we drove with the parents to the park to play. After a while, they left. Without me. Drove off. Didn’t come back.

There were lots of people and dogs at the park that day. They couldn’t find my collar, ‘cuz my family kept it and took it in the car with them. Anyways, one couple took me to Friends For Life, but there wasn’t any room, so they let me stay at their house for a while. Called it a foster home. On Saturdays, I’d go visit all the dogs at the shelter for adoption day.

One Saturday, Gomer and DogMom were there. DogMom was working in the office. I got to play with Gomer in one of the yards for hours. We were bestest buds, right from the start. DogMom said she wasn’t going to take me home with her. (Gomer and I had different ideas about that.) Gomer jumped out of the car window and came back to the shelter fence. Twice. DogMom caved and adopted me after all.

I didn’t “get” the whole adoption thing. Or the expectations humans have about family dogs. I liked being independent. I liked doing my own thing. I liked jumping the fence and going to the park… or just standing on top of the fence and looking at everything… I didn’t like obedience training. I didn’t like my crate. I didn’t like walking on a leash. I didn’t like being told what to do about anything, anywhere, anytime, by anybody.

I went to training. Trainers came to the house. I went to “therapy.” I went to behaviorists. In the end, I decided a maybe following a few rules was better than going back to not having a family. Maybe.

Was it that dogged determination thing from DogMom again? Or, is it this whole Bible quote: 1 Cor 13:4-7 (NIV)? Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.

DogMom says that about sums it up. Yea, that’s it. Love is a four-legged word… times two!

We’re the Dogs’ Aye View dogs: Gomer & Opie. If you want to read all about us, you can visit our blog at http://www.dogsayeview.blogspot.com… But in the meantime, that was our love story (ahem, love stories)…

 

Submitted by DogMom

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