MY STORY
It was Saturday and I knew the Dog Pound was only open until noon. It would be closed until the following Tuesday, so I didn't have much hope left to be adopted. My time was almost up here as the fourteen days were ready to expire and they would take me to be killed on Tuesday.
I was just 18 months old when my master brought me to this place. He'd kicked and beaten me so much I was glad to be anyplace else. I heard him say that he didn't want me anymore because I kept running away. I wonder why?
The local prisoners (called "trustees") came in to care for us. There were about 300 dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds and ages. All that barking got on my nerves! I wasn't feeling well as I needed to be neutered and was malnourished, underweight and dehydrated. All I wanted to do was go to sleep.
Still, I had some hope left that someone might still want me as I was just 18 months old. I was a black & white, mixed breed, mainly a border collie with a tan face. My name was Nic-Nic and I was born May 25th, 1996. I had no training and felt abandoned and neglected; I missed my mother!
People often stopped outside cage Number 195 to remark that I was "cute" or had "sad eyes" with Michael Jackson eyeliner. I never said a word; I was quiet and laid down instead of hopping all over the place like some of the others. I had manners!
On this hot, Saturday morning, a woman and boy stopped to observe me. I laid low, head on crossed feet; no use getting my hopes up; still, I glanced up often. I would like to get a walk in , as I did have to pee.
They returned to study me in more detail and I heard the boy telling the lady that he had narrowed his selection down to three dogs; I was one of them! My competition was a puppy and an adult poodle.
The "trustee" unlocked my cage to put a lease around my neck to allow the dark haired lad to walk me. I immediately cocked my leg to pee on the lady's purse. But she just smiled and we continued walking. She smelled good!
When they talked and decided to adopt me, I couldn't believe it! I was so nervous that I got car sick & threw up in their white convertible. And once home, I bled all over their beige carpeting! And I refused to even eat or drink; I was so scared they'd send me back! Or beat me up.......
But they wanted me & never gave up. They patted and petted me all the time and told me how handsome I was. They made me a bowl of warm chicken-noodle soup and seemed so happy when I ate it all up. A Doctor kept me at his place all day on Monday and gave me shots and stuff. The lady even bought a health insurance policy in case I became injured or ill. I started to eat and grow. I slept with the boy and had a wonderful life; my favourite thing was to ride in the car. And the neutering wasn't so bad after all.
I just wrote this to say thanks and I hope I can live to please them for many more years. I'll be 12 in May; and they never forget my birthday. I feel like I was really born in Nov. 1997 when they named me "Camo" and saved my life.
Now I own most of Cape Sable Island, have been a "trucker" and I am wintering down South. How many people can say that? "Woof woof!!"
It was Saturday and I knew the Dog Pound was only open until noon. It would be closed until the following Tuesday, so I didn't have much hope left to be adopted. My time was almost up here as the fourteen days were ready to expire and they would take me to be killed on Tuesday.
I was just 18 months old when my master brought me to this place. He'd kicked and beaten me so much I was glad to be anyplace else. I heard him say that he didn't want me anymore because I kept running away. I wonder why?
The local prisoners (called "trustees") came in to care for us. There were about 300 dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds and ages. All that barking got on my nerves! I wasn't feeling well as I needed to be neutered and was malnourished, underweight and dehydrated. All I wanted to do was go to sleep.
Still, I had some hope left that someone might still want me as I was just 18 months old. I was a black & white, mixed breed, mainly a border collie with a tan face. My name was Nic-Nic and I was born May 25th, 1996. I had no training and felt abandoned and neglected; I missed my mother!
People often stopped outside cage Number 195 to remark that I was "cute" or had "sad eyes" with Michael Jackson eyeliner. I never said a word; I was quiet and laid down instead of hopping all over the place like some of the others. I had manners!
On this hot, Saturday morning, a woman and boy stopped to observe me. I laid low, head on crossed feet; no use getting my hopes up; still, I glanced up often. I would like to get a walk in , as I did have to pee.
They returned to study me in more detail and I heard the boy telling the lady that he had narrowed his selection down to three dogs; I was one of them! My competition was a puppy and an adult poodle.
The "trustee" unlocked my cage to put a lease around my neck to allow the dark haired lad to walk me. I immediately cocked my leg to pee on the lady's purse. But she just smiled and we continued walking. She smelled good!
When they talked and decided to adopt me, I couldn't believe it! I was so nervous that I got car sick & threw up in their white convertible. And once home, I bled all over their beige carpeting! And I refused to even eat or drink; I was so scared they'd send me back! Or beat me up.......
But they wanted me & never gave up. They patted and petted me all the time and told me how handsome I was. They made me a bowl of warm chicken-noodle soup and seemed so happy when I ate it all up. A Doctor kept me at his place all day on Monday and gave me shots and stuff. The lady even bought a health insurance policy in case I became injured or ill. I started to eat and grow. I slept with the boy and had a wonderful life; my favourite thing was to ride in the car. And the neutering wasn't so bad after all.
I just wrote this to say thanks and I hope I can live to please them for many more years. I'll be 12 in May; and they never forget my birthday. I feel like I was really born in Nov. 1997 when they named me "Camo" and saved my life.
Now I own most of Cape Sable Island, have been a "trucker" and I am wintering down South. How many people can say that? "Woof woof!!"
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