In December of 2006, my beloved dog George died of cancer. He had been my constant companion, and I was devastated to say the least. The following March, one of my best friends called me about a dog. He told me that a friend had rescued her from a parking lot in the bitter cold, and she had been adopted out four times and returned each time. “Nobody wants this dog, and she deserves someone who will love her,” he said. The words broke my heart, and I agreed to take her for the weekend.
When I first saw her, I gasped. She was skin and bones, had been the victim of abuse and neglect, and she was obviously terrified. I put her in the car, and she settled in, seemingly comfortable to be with me. She looked at me, and I looked at her, and I knew she was my dog. I named her Tallulah, and I’ve never regretted my decision.
Her first year with me was a tough one. Being that she had been abused, there were a lot of issues and fears that I had to conquer with her. I believe she trusted me from the beginning, and she knew somehow I would be kind and never hurt her. That is the amazing thing about dogs — they love unconditionally, and they bounce back from even the worst of conditions.
I have had Tallulah, or Lulabelle as I normally call her, for seven years now. She is the funniest dog I’ve ever known, and I treasure every moment with her. I’m so glad I opened up my heart to get another dog. She has brightened every day of my life since she entered it!
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