Hundreds of pet stories

[kuhio98]

Some of the stories are 3 or 4 pages long. Here's a short one.

Maternal Instinct
Wuffie may be a canine, but she plays mom to cats in need.

By Jen MacNeil, New York, New York

When spaniel mix Wuffie was just one year old, her owner, Gary Rohdee, brought some abandoned kittens to his Los Angeles apartment. Gary separated them from the dog, but Wuffie kept vigil on the other side of a closed door, alerting Gary to the kitties' every need.

Since that night 12 years ago, Gary and his friend Kari Winters, of California Siamese Rescue, have entrusted Wuffie with the care of dozens of kittens. "She can sense how sick a kitten is," says Kari. "If she ignores it, we know the kitten will be all right."

Otherwise, Wuffie tends to the kitten until it's well. Then it's on to the next sick kitty who just needs a little TLC from the sweetest surrogate there is.

[kuhio98]

Finding Gus a Home
A lost dog ends up right where he belongs.

By Nancy Rose, New Bloomfield, Pennsylvania

My husband has a soft spot for strays. Driving down the highway one rainy day, we spotted a hulking mass of grayish-black fur, with paws the size of a bear's, wandering along the roadside. "We already have two dogs and two cats," I protested as he pulled over.

"We can't just leave him there," he said. "No telling what will happen to him." He opened the door and the dog climbed in.

"Okay," I agreed, "but we have to try hard to find his owner." The dog seemed friendly enough, but there was a look about him that spoke of a wilder nature.

We called him Gus, and ran ads in the paper and on the radio, but no one claimed him. For the next year and a half Gus lived with us. He was a boisterous dog, and one day his energy got the best of him and he nipped someone.

A dog his size needed more space to run. Lord, help us find the home where Gus will be happy, I prayed. We started a new search, for a new owner, a home where Gus was meant to be.

One day a friend mentioned a family that might be interested. "They used to have a big dog out on their farm. The boys were real torn up when Sam disappeared," he said.

Two days later the Delancy family came to meet Gus. The kids piled out of the car. "Sam!" they cried, as the dog, tail wagging, bounded toward them joyously. "We thought you'd never come back!"

Sam, a.k.a. Gus, was the happiest dog in the world. He was going home at last.

[kuhio98]

The Dog Next Door
A golden retriever changes how a family feels about dogs.

By Sara Whalen, Middletown, New York

My 18-month-old son, Adam, called from the front porch. "Look, Mama! Doggie." I dropped what I was doing and stuck my head out the door. Brandy, our next-door neighbor's 11-year-old golden retriever, was over again. "Scat!" I said, scooping up Adam and brushing the dog hair off his T-shirt and shorts.

Brandy's owner had died about a month earlier. The woman's family emptied the house, and a real estate agent stuck a For Sale sign in the front yard. But the family had overlooked the old golden. For weeks she'd been sniffing around the neighborhood, living on scraps and handouts.

It wasn't that I disliked dogs or anything like that. I just didn't think about them much. I never had a dog growing up and never thought to get one.

Brandy loped off and I stayed out on the porch with Adam. The phone rang. I ducked inside to take the call. When I came back out, Adam was gone. I scoured the yard, front and back, then the basketball court and public pool down the block. No trace of him. My worry built to panic. I ran home and called the police, then my husband. Please, Lord, keep Adam safe until we find him.

Police combed the neighborhood. Amid the sirens and commotion of voices, I heard another sound: a dog barking. "It's coming from the woods," one of my neighbors said. We followed the barking to a wooded cliff overlooking a creek. There we found my son, flush up against the trunk of a tree just inches away from the edge of the cliff, fast asleep. Brandy had pressed herself against him. I picked Adam up and leaned down to pat Brandy. She sank down on her side, panting. She must have been holding Adam there for hours!

I thanked the police and brought a safe and sound Adam back to our house. Brandy too. She hesitated a moment on our doorstep, no doubt remembering the times I'd shooed her away. "Come on, girl," I said. "This is your home now." Brandy stepped in, and once she saw she was really welcome, she eased herself onto an old throw rug in the hallway, as if she knew that spot was now hers. She closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened. Her whiskers twitched as she slept. She'd done an incredible thing and I wondered if she knew it. She might have saved my son's life. She'd certainly touched mine in a way no animal ever had. What a shame a dog like Brandy was abandoned. Were there more out there like her?

I learned about other homeless goldens and took them in, and found homes for many more. It's become a kind of calling for me. Those with disabilities—the old, the blind, the sick—have a special place in my heart. A place I'd never known I had until Brandy opened it.

[lizbud]

Great stories. Thanks for posting.