A wonderful story for you today that you will remember for a long long
time.
Our Gem, Roger Kiser, tells about a time when a deformed puppy was
rejected. You'll soon learn how, through the eyes of a little boy, that
same puppy became "the pretty one".
As always, thank you Roger, for enriching the world with your classic
stories.
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THE PRETTY ONE
This was the last litter of puppies that we were going allow our
Cocker Spaniel to have.
It had been a very long night for me. Precious, our only black
Cocker, was having a very difficult time with the delivery of her puppies.
I laid on the floor beside her large four foot square cage, watching
her every movement. Watching and waiting, just in case we had to rush her
to the veterinarian.
After six hours the puppies started to appear. The first born was a
black and white party dog. The second and third puppies were tan and brown
in color. The fourth and fifth were also spotted black and white.
"One, two, three, four, five." I counted to myself, as I walked down
the hallway to wake-up my wife, Judy, and tell her that everything was
fine.
As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare bedroom I
noticed that a sixth puppy had been born and was now laying all by itself
over to the side of the cage.
I picked up the small puppy and I laid it on top of the large pile of
puppies, who were trying nurse. Instantly, Precious pushed the small puppy
away from rest of the group and refused to recognize it as a member of her
family.
"Something's wrong," said Judy.
I reached over and picked up the puppy and I looked at its face. My
heart sank inside my chest when I saw that the little puppy was hairlipped
and could not close its little mouth.
We had gone through this once before last year with another one of our
Cockers. If there was any way to save this animal I was going to give it
my best shot.
The next day I took the puppy to the vet. I was told that there was
nothing that could be done unless we were willing to spend a thousand
dollars to try and correct the defect. He told us that the puppy would die
mainly because it could not suckle.
After returning home, Judy and I decided that we could not afford to
spend that kind of money without getting some type of assurances from the
vet that the puppy had a chance to live. However, that did not stop me
from purchasing a syringe and feeding the puppy by hand, which I did every
day and night, every two hours, for more than ten days.
The fifth week I placed an ad in the newspaper and within a week we
had taken deposits on all of the pups, except the one that had the
deformity. The little guy had learned to eat on his own as long as it was
a soft canned food.
Late that afternoon, I went to the store to pick up a few groceries.
Upon returning, I happened to see the old retired school teacher, who lived
across the street from us, waving at me. She had read in the paper that we
had puppies for sale and was wondering if she might buy one from us for her
grandson. I told her that all the puppies had been sold but that I would
keep my eyes open for anyone else who might have a Cocker Spaniel for sale.
Within days, all but one of the puppies had been picked up by their
new owners. This left me with one brown and tan cocker as well as the
smaller hairlipped puppy.
Two days passed without me hearing anything from the gentleman who had
placed a deposit on the tan and brown pup. So I telephoned the school
teacher and told her that I had one puppy left and that she was welcome to
come and look at it. She advised me that she was going to pick up her
grandson and would come over at about eight o'clock that evening. Judy and
I were eating supper when we heard a knock on the front door. Lo and
behold, it was the man who has originally placed the order for the pup. We
walked inside where I filled out the paperwork, he paid me the balance of
the money, and I handed him the puppy.
Judy and I did not know what to do, or say, if the teacher showed up
with her grandson.
Sure enough at exactly eight o'clock the doorbell rang. I opened the
door and there stood the school teacher with her grandson standing behind
her. I explained to her that the man had come for the puppy just an hour
before she got there and that there were no puppies left.
"I'm sorry, Jeffery. They sold all the puppies," she told her grandson.
Just at that moment the small puppy we had left in the bedroom began
to yelp.
"My puppy. My puppy!" yelled the little boy, as he ran out from
behind his grandmother.
I just about fell over when I saw that the small child was hairlipped.
The boy ran past me and down the hallway to where the puppy was still
yelping. When the three of us made it to the bedroom, the small boy was
holding the puppy in his arm.
He looked up at his grandmother and he said, "Look Grandma. They sold
all the puppies except the pretty one, and he looks just like me."
Well, Grandma wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes that day.
Judy and I stood there not knowing what to do.
"Is this puppy for sale?" asked the school teacher.
"My grandma told me these kind of puppies are real expensive and that
I have to take real good care of it," said the little boy, who was now
hugging the puppy.
"Yes ma'am. This puppy is for sale," I told her.
The old lady opened her purse and I could see several one hundred
dollar bills sticking out of her wallet. I reached over and pushed her
hand back down into her purse so that she would not pull her wallet out.
"How much do you think this puppy is worth?" I asked the boy.
"About a dollar?" he told me.
"No. This puppy is very, very expensive," I told him.
"More than a dollar?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so," I told him.
The boy stood there pressing the small puppy against his cheek.
"We could not possibly take less than two dollars for this puppy.
Like you said, it's the pretty one," said Judy, squeezing my hand.
The school teacher took out two dollars and handed it to the young boy.
"It's your dog now, Jeffery. You pay the man," she told the boy.
I think it is a wonderful feeling for a young boy to look into the
mirror and see "the pretty one."
-- Roger Kiser, Sr. <trampolineone @ webtv.net>
_________________________________________
Roger is a Heartwarmer Gem from Brunswick, Georgia. His story, Just a
Chance, is featured on the new Pet Tales CD. You can get more information
on the CD at http://www.songimages.com/pettales
Roger's book, Orphan, is available at bookstores and online.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1580624480/heart
__________________________________________
Have you ordered your Pet Tales CD yet?
What are you waiting for? Call (949) 548-9432, 9am-5pm Mon-Fri, Pacific
Time. Or go to: http://www.songimages.com/pettales
_________________________________________
For the Young Animal Lover!
Grruff the robotic dog, by Palm Puppies -- Only $16.99. Small, portable
robotic dog becomes more interactive when he visits with his friends. Check
him out at http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005NCG1/heart
_________________________________________
FROM OUR MAILBAG
Dear Petwarmers:
Feline-ology is the second story I've read about cats by Cat Fulton --
and they are right on and so funny! They take the thoughts out of my head
and put them into words! My cats talk about so much it's hard for me to
remember it all -- I'm glad someone is reminding me how much fun it is to
keep tabs on what they're saying!
-- Ginger <gsnap75 @ aol.com>
Dear Petwarmers:
I, too, have been saved by my "purry" partners. One evening, I came
home to find my roll of paper towels cowering under the couch, spewing
little gobbets of white from its wounds. It was most penitent and gave us
no further problems or signs of insurrection!
-- Beth <bspidell @ zekes.com>
Dear Petwarmers:
I just received my 3 set of "Pet Tales" as gifts, and for myself. My
husband and I listened to it together and both laughed and cried our way
through it. Our Border Collie went to the Rainbow Bridge 3 years ago and
we still miss him greatly, so the stories of our furry friends getting old
really touched our hearts. We, who love animals all feel this pain when
they get old and can't function anymore, and we have to make the decision
to put them down or not. Thankfully for us, Snoopy died peacefully on a
camping trip -- doing the things he loved the most right up to the end.
-- Margo <sunlover @ iowatelecom.net>
Dear Petwarmers:
Our cat, Gandalf, is the talkingest cat I've ever seen. He never sees
me without saying, "Hi, whatcha doin'?" You might think I'm crazy, but I
talk with him, too. Most of our conversations consist of "Hi, what's up?"
"Not much." "Okay." I wish I could understand more cat language, but I do
usually know what they're basically saying. I know the difference between
"play with me", "let me in/out", and the casual stuff "hi, how're you?"
For example, "prrrayowow" is "let me in/out", "prrt" is "hi", "prrrow" is
"what's up?", "prrru" is "nothin'", and "prrrowow" is "play with me". I
think.
-- Laura <yooneek1 @ juno.com>
Dear Petwarmers:
Can animals talk? You bet they can! Over the 13 years I have had my
Lhasa child, ScooterPie, I have bought him many things. I take him
regularly to PetSmart where he chooses his own toys and bones, visits the
kitties and bunnies, chases the fish in the aquariums and has one great
time. Last year, I found a line of toys I call the "talkins". So far we
have the kitty, the rooster, the cow, the chicken, the puppy, the monkey
and the moose. One squeezes the stomach of the "talkin" and a computer
chip makes the appropriate animal noise. Scooter adores these toys and
over time he has come to recognize their differences and names. If I say "
go get talkin chicken" he does. Then he bites the chicken in the tummy and
the chicken goes "cluck, cluck." Remarkably, the dog can imitate this
noise, as he can with the other toys. He has not yet mastered the moose
call, but he is well on his way. We both have gotten more joy out of these
little talkins than I can tell you. The best is to see him curled up on
his quilt surrounded by all the toys he has carried there with him, all
sleeping and... not talkin'.
-- JB <Featuremed @ aol.com>
__________________________________________
You can get Petwarmers' sister publication, Heartwarmers, three days a
week. It's free too. Just send an email to: [email protected] or
visit: http://www.heartwarmers.com
__________________________________________
[ November 15, 2001: Message edited by: shais_mom ]
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That is so bitter sweet!! Thanks for sharing!!!!!!
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