271 days ago by BullyChick | 55 views | 0 barks

oh the weather outside is frightful

Man, it is COLD here. It was 6 degrees this morning when the gang and I woke up. We have a nice little routine going on. I get up and they stay in the nice, cozy bed until I'm dressed and ready to go and they know they're getting a "goodbye treat." Oh, to be a dog.

I think this is Tru's first winter inside. It might be Louis' as well, but I don't know that for sure. Since Tru is a puppymill  survivor, I can be fairly certain. Sometimes, when I look at him, my heart just breaks. Most of the time I don't think about it, because...well, he's my dog and he doesn't look weird to me. But once in a while I'll be watching him struggle to get up on the couch or bed, or see the scars on his legs from being chained, or get a good look at his teeth when he yawns and I'll think, "Oh God. He must be one tough dog to have survived where he came from." And it is no wonder sometimes he runs away when I try to pick him up. Or won't eat his treats near me. Or flinches if I move too quickly in his presence. It is no freakin' wonder.

I know some of you reading this must think, "Good Grief. Does she never talk about anything else but puppymills and horrible things like that?" I'm sorry. These are the things on my mind and I have to have an outlet. My friends and family have begun rolling their eyes (well, not all of them). And sometimes I think that if just one person who mistakenly or on purpose bought their dog from a commercial kennel or from a pet store reads what I've written and changes their mind or becomes active in animal welfare...well, then I guess living inside my soap box is worth it.