Pam and Aly,
This ones' for you guys!!!!
TEARS OF JOY
by Bob Shaw
As a general rule, I'm a puppy and dog person, although I'm very fond
of kittens, cats, and most other members of the animal family.
One of our favorites was a little silver poodle named Fluffy.
We received a phone call one weekend telling us that her owner had
passed away, and the family was trying to find a new home for Fluffy. We
drove 150 miles and found her in a small cage in the basement. She was in
pretty rough shape, with only enough food and water to survive.
My wife, Ronni, held her in her lap on the trip home, talking to her,
and trying to reassure her that everything would be OK. From that time on,
she belonged to her. The trip home went smoothly, but the next few days
were pretty trying for everyone. Fluffy was so upset, she wouldn't let
Ronni out of her sight.
Slowly but surely, Fluffy became the feisty little critter we remember
so well. She was, from her stubby little tail, to her buck toothed little
grin, Ronni's dog. And she took her position quite seriously. Even
playing, if she thought some of us were hurting Ronni, she'd bite them.
Her first litter came about a year later. Everything went just like
the book said, normal all the way. She started around two in the morning,
and had four puppies. That afternoon, Fluffy brought one of them in to the
living room, and laid it at Ronni's feet, sounding a slight whimper to let
us know there was a problem. It had stopped breathing, and she did the
only thing she could do -- she took it to Ronni, whom she believed could do
anything.
As Ronni picked up the baby, she knew something was wrong. At once,
she started rubbing it, trying to get the circulation going. She pushed on
its little chest, and blew into its tiny face to get it breathing. This
went on for several minutes.
Just when Ronni was ready to give up, I noticed Fluffy perking up.
She'd heard something. Then a few moments later, we heard it too. The
baby made a slight whimpering sound.
It was alive!
After all these years, I still have an image of this moment in my
mind. It's a picture of one mother, trying desperately to save the baby of
another. I can remember thinking they were both keepers.
I've heard that animals aren't aware, or can't really understand
what's going on around them, but I can still see the tear tracks running
down that little dog's face.
For the next several days, she kept bringing the puppy in to be
checked over. Ronni would look at it and assure Fluffy that it was all
right. Then Fluffy would take it back and brood over them like there were
no other puppies in the world.
A few weeks later, we received a phone call from a friend. They'd
heard the story about the baby, and wanted to know if they could adopt it.
Things worked out well. Fluffy liked them, and the puppy was right at
home with them. And for the next nine years, it was a constant companion
and blessing in their lives.
Fluffy had two more litters of puppies. And each litter always had a
puppy that she thought needed a little extra care. Of course, Ronni was
always there to give it.
But, there was the day that she brought something in to be checked
out. As I came in from work, Ronni was just a little visibly shaken. All
I could get out of her was "she brought me a dead mouse.."
Fluffy stayed with us for many years. I have no doubt that she's
waiting, just on the other side, in a place called The Rainbow Bridge.
-- Bob Shaw <Caperabbit @ semo.net>
____________________________________________
Bob and wife Ronni live in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. They'd enjoy hearing
from you, and hope you enjoy the story. You can reach them by clicking
here: mailto:[email protected]
Reply With Quote
I'm a poodle mom 
Bookmarks