We rescued Sparky last year. We were actually looking for a little Yorkie terrier, only because a friend of ours had one named Griz and he was just the cutest thing - great personality and very affectionate. So we were lookin' for our Griz. Ironically, we always thought we wanted Westies, and sure enough, we came across Sparky on petfinder.com. We actually saw him for about two months, and while we thought him cute, we kept looking for a Griz.
Then one day, Special K calls me into the den and sez, "You gotta see this - Sparky's message has changed," and sure enough, now next to his picture, it said "Help! I've only got two days left!"
So, we called the number - it was a 360 area code (up in Bellingham) and it was a woman who ran a poodle rescue. The dog, however, was down in Arizona, she explained. Her daughter worked for a vet, who had taken Sparky in from a kill shelter and housed him until they could find him a home. After several months, the vet said enough - gotta go by the end of the week, which would have meant back to the kill shelter.
So we ponied up the $100 for his airfare and $80 for him to be fixed and tagged, and picked him up two days later. The ad on petfinder stated he was six years old - his paperwork said eight years old. Our vet said more like nine or ten. My goodness. Rough not knowing the exact age or what his birthday is, but all they could tell us is that he came from an abused situation. And you could tell, too. He was so timid. Got him home and he just walked over to the wall and stood facing the wall with his head down and his tail between his legs. Every time we reached to pet him, he flinched.
We had gone out the night before we were due to pick him up and gone to Pet Co on a shopping spree - bought everything we thought a dog would need. A carrier, a bed, a blanket - bowls, food, leash, collar, toys, etc., etc. He did not like that carrier. Found out much later that all his bottom teeth are fractured. The vet said it was consistent with grabbing on to a fence or cage and trying to yank it open. He had no interest in the balls or toys. Ate like we were going to take his food away. And he was so sore from his operation - he kept trying to sit or lay down, and you could just tell he was in pain. I really wish they had stated his true age - then I would have protested having him fixed. That didn't need to happen. He was such a little sad sack. Growled whenever you tried to pick him up or got too close to his face. Not a snuggle bunny at all - I don't think he ever knew love or affection.
He's very handsome in his face and I suspect he was a stud for a puppy mill. He's our little ole man, now - sway back, bow legs and all, but he is just so dang cute.
Now, a year later, he's like a different dog. We get home from work and he's so excited to see us, tail a'waggling, jumping for joy. Then he does this race up and down our long hallway from the living room to the back bedroom (where the sliding door leads out to the carport). So very cute. And while he never got into balls, he loves his Bobo, his papaguyo (toy parrot) and a plush bone. He now lets us pick him up and snuggle him - he loves it when we lift him up onto the bed with us and he gets double lovin' from us both. Or up in our laps while we're watching TV - it's just amazing how far he's come. Gotta be careful - he still flinches if you reach for him too quickly, but he certainly knows he's the king of the house. Loves his walks, especially when we take him to one of the many, beautiful parks around our house.
So, we don't know his birthday. We're calling it Sept 7th, cuz that's the day he was reborn, when he came to us. And we love the f**k outta this little guy - I am amazed just how much he's woven himself into both of our hearts. I can't imagine life without the Sparkster.
I'm so very glad he rescued us.