This was Winnie when I found her at the pound:
I had the same dog from the time I was 7 years old to age 19. His name was Buddy and he was amazing. I grew up with him and he protected me and loved me unconditionally until he passed away of old age. Of course I was devastated, but I was distracted by school too much to need another dog right away. Until about 6 months later when I went through the worst breakup of my life--and hopefully it stays that way, by the way. It came at the end of, coincidentally, my worst academic semester of college as well as my worst emotionally. The relationship was bad and it took up my whole life. I lost touch with what was really important, came close to ruining important friendships with my sorority sisters and others, and then to top that semester off some idiot ran into me one night at the end of the semester, totalling my car and putting me in the emergency room. I knew I needed to come home for the summer, so I did. Then when I got home and didn't have Buddy, I knew I needed to also get a dog.
So one day I decided to go to the local pounds and find me a dog. It needed to be small because of our community, but I didn't want some little diva dog (Buddy was half australian shepherd, hald golden retriever). I looked through one pound and didn't find any dog small enough that wasn't a chihuahua (sorry, I'm not into those), then we went to the 2nd pound and I walked through 4 rows of stalls, and had pretty much given up when I got to the very. last. stall.
I saw that sweet little white fluffball in a stall with two other little dogs--one that already had a hold on it, and the other a cute little black terrior mix. I asked to interact with both the white and the black dog. My mom, my boy-at-the-time, and myself went into a little fenced in area with both dogs and the little black one was a lunatic. But a cute lunatic. The white one, on the other hand, was sweet as can be and actually cuddled with the boy at first. The black one was going a little crazy and kept bugging the white one, and finally the white one snapped at the black one--nothing mean or vicious, but it definitely was like she was saying "alright now, crazy, back the eff off me and calm your ass down!" I was in love.
It turned out the white one had been brought in as a stray (she was 3 months old) literally 2 hours before we got there. Two. Hours. I put a hold on her and had to wait a week for any owners to come in and claim her.
I called the pound every single day for that week, checking to see if she'd been claimed. Nobody ever did, so I high-tailed it back to the pound during my 3-hour window a week later to pick her up. They told me she'd had 4 other holds placed on her behind me, so she was a hot little commodity. I mean, I'm not surprised....
|Just being adorable.|
|Her favorite sleeping position.|
I had picked out the name Winnie for two reasons. 1) I love Winnie the Pooh. And 2) She's a cockapoo, and I thought I was being clever. Judge me.
Winnie saved my life that summer. She was what healed my heart when I thought I had been through the worst heartache ever (I now know I didn't, but you know how breakups go), and she helped make me happy again.
It turns out I did kiiiiind of get a diva-dog...she does love to wear clothes...
|When she graduated puppy school!|
And she sure can destroy any toy within seconds....
But she's my diva. She's my Princess Winifred, my Winnie the Pooh, my Winnie-girl, and my lovebug.
Now if only cuddling with her would burn the same amount of calories as going to the gym...
Ah, wishful thinking.
I hope your heart has been melted a little bit :)