I found Toby at a local animal shelter. He was lying in a cage with another dog. His back was to me, and he appeared to be sleeping. I inquired about him at the front desk. They told me he had been brought in as a stray. Through his microchip, they located his owners. They were an older couple and could not take care of him anymore. For some reason he was out wandering around on his own. Luckily for him, he was brought in where he could be safe. They told me he was 12 years old, and he had a bad heart condition. His hair was terribly overgrown, dirty and matted. In his paw areas, there were tiny wires embedded. His nails were curled under and digging into the pads of his paws.

I decided that this was the kind of dog I was looking for. I wanted to help a dog that was not only in need, but would also have a harder time getting adopted.

Older dogs, especially those with health problems have a harder time being adopted. Most people want either puppies or younger age dogs.

I brought Toby home on October 29, 2011.

I quickly set about grooming him. I was used to doing my own grooming. I always groomed our other dog that we already owned. It was almost a case of where to start first. I had to cut through thick mats all throughout his body. It took some time, but I finally got through all of the mats. I shaved him down to where he finally looked normal again. He was given a bath, where quite a bit of dirt came off. I decided to leave the nail trimming to a vet.

He was like a whole new dog. I knew he had to feel so much better. He could actually see without hair and mats in front of his eyes. After he went to the vet, he could now walk without his nails digging into his mats. Besides his bad heart and some arthritis, he was in reasonably good shape.

Toby ended up being a wonderful dog. He was loved and pampered. We loved his little quirks and personality. I wish he could have been with us longer, but eventually his kidneys failed. He passed away in my arms at home. I am so glad he was ours, even if it was only for a short time. We now have those memories to remember and enjoy. If we had never adopted him, we would not have had those memories to treasure. Even though it hurt to lose Toby, I would not have traded the joy and privilege of having known him.

— Karen from Bountiful, UT

It was my master’s wife’s fault from the very beginning. I really didn’t even find out about it until I was older, old enough to have earned some respect. For the first six months of my life, I thought my name was Kipper, a reasonably fun name for a studly square-faced boxer like me. I don’t like to brag, but I was beautiful with my brindle coat, perfectly cut ears and tail and a “chest line” to die for.

I didn’t walk, I pranced. I was the master of my domain, until of course, my master came home.  He was one of those kind of humans who tried to act stern, but I could win him over with just a bounce or two and a tail wagging for all its worth.

“Hi Kipper” he’d say.

I would shake with excitement. I’d jump around, wag and being a boxer, salivate, or as “she” called it, “slobber.” She was very nice and fed me well and regularly. But the master was the MASTER, and boy did I love my master. He had a couple of kids, a girl and boy, but he was the real boss. Anything to make him happy was my main goal in life, and when I heard that proud-of-me tone in his voice, it was a thrill and a chill. I could be deliriously happy for days.

The boy kid was named Rand. He was great fun and played with me all the time, but he knew who my heart and loyalty really belonged to…his dad.  At about 6 months after my ear forms were removed, I remembered a conversation the boy had with the master’s wife, his mother.

They were talking about my name “Kipper” and he asked his mother where she’d gotten the name. To my shock and chagrin she said “Oh, I took it from a can of Kipper Snacks.  What did she think I was a fish? I was burned. I’m not a fish. I have papers to prove that I’m a full-fledged registered, good-looking if I do say so myself, Boxer. I have my pride, ya know! But it only got worse.

The wife tells the kid that Kipper was just my nick name.  Oh great, if my nick name is taken from a can of kippered herring, what name did this woman put on my official registration papers. I dreamed, of course, that if I could read, I would read on my papers: “King the Magnificent,” “Lord of the Manor and Grounds,” or “Glorious Idol of Dogdom.” My mind flew into ever more fanciful dreams of my glorious name.

Then I heard it. I was more than bummed. It was, well, embarrassing that a splendiferous specimen like me had the officially registered name of, I can hardly say it: “Jotta, Jotta, Jing, Jing.” Where in heaven’s name did this female person come up with that? I should have taken a dump on her kitchen floor! That would have taught her.  She told the kid that they used really strange names on the official registration papers so that was the name she gave me.

I’ll tell ya, I could hardly prance for nearly a week after that. But my master always loved me and was my real link with my inner perfection. I quickly suppressed my ignoble name deep into my brain and regained my princely place in the den.

When I was about a year old I began hearing a strange word these humans started calling me. They kept saying I was really smart. I didn’t know what smart meant, but the respect with which they used it meant something so I decided to accept it with honor.

I think I started hearing the “smart” word when I learned how to hold the screen door open, push on the inner door and come into the house all by myself.  I was supposed to be invited in, but because everybody loved me, I always got away with it.

As great as I was, I had this one tiny, little, trivial habit that was not welcomed by my master. Frankly, I didn’t think it was a flaw at all. It was just me and my natural “talent.”

I told you about my ability to get into the house. Well, when I did that I headed straight for my master’s chair, settled beside him and reveled in my closeness to the alpha dog.  But there was this “thing” I kept doing and my master would explode furiously because most of the time, I’d snuck in beside him usually without him knowing I was even around. He’d read the newspaper and watch TV and I would bask in his glory dreaming of coming to his aid in his time of need in an instant.

But, there was that one little flaw that kept interfering with our harmonious communion. The humans called it “cutting the cheese.” I had no idea what that meant, but with me, they called it “cutting the blue cheese.” My master would rail and scream.

“This creature is turning the air blue!!!”

Since most of the time he didn’t realize I had crawled flat on my belly to my position of honor right beside him under the arm of his chair, the only way he knew I was there was when the air turned that unmistakable shade.

He’d come unglued and I knew I had to get out of there before it all hit the fan, so to speak. I’d scramble like a scalded squirrel, legs flailing and sliding on the linoleum in every direction just to get out of there. Hey, it wasn’t my fault that I was blessed with a prodigious digestive tract.

Life in the master’s den was heaven. But one day I decided to head out to see what was “out there.”  Having lived in luxury for all my years on earth, I was not prepared for the outside world. Within a few blocks of the den, I got lost and was forced to eat anything I could find. Posters, rewards, searchers and animal lovers looked for me.  But I was gone a whole week before I was found. When I was found and brought home I was emaciated and sickly. Weeks of the best food and veterinary care, unfortunately, were not enough.

The report from the vet was grim. He said I’d eaten something that had hurt my heart. I was only seven.  Now, when I played with the boy, I’d jump up on his chest and then go completely stiff and collapse shaking onto the ground.  My master said it was cruel to allow me to continue in this pain, so with what the humans call prayers and tears I was taken to another place.
Of course, I never knew my end.  My master took me to the Humane Society.  The boy went with us.  I didn’t know what was happening, but then I was terribly sick.  The kindly man at the society told the boy that he knew a lot about dogs might be able to fix me.  My master knew the story was to give the boy a little hope that Kipper was with this kind man.  But the truth was, my heart could not be repaired.  The man’s story was simply a way to alleviate an excruciatingly painful experience for the boy.  My master knew the impossible truth. Later that day I went to sleep.
My master said he could never have another dog because none would ever match up to “Jotta, Jotta, Jing, Jing,” Also lovingly known as Kipper.

— Rand from Springville, UT

My husband and I wanted another member to our family.  We had lost Johnny Ringo about 2 years before and felt the time was right.  I began looking at the website for the Humane Society in our area.  We live in a country setting and have a lot of area to offer.  I was searching the site and found the article about Koal.  He had been in the shelter for a long time and was scheduled to be euthanized that next weekend.  They described him as being about a year old and part Catahoula leopard dog.  They said he was good with other dogs and also good with cats.  (I did not have a cat at that time but I thought that I would get a cat later on (maybe))  I called the shelter about Koal and let them know we were interested.  That very next weekend we went to the shelter.  We did not go to the shelter empty handed though; we brought treats, blankets, bleach, laundry detergent, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, dog and cat food, and more stuff.  I brought treats in my pocket to give to the other dogs.  The shelter personnel took us to go and see Koal.  He was in a medium (small) dog house within a fenced cage.  He unfolded himself to come out and greet us.  I fell in love with him instantly.   The shelter tested him for heartworms and he tested negative.  I would have taken him anyway.  Good gracious he was stinky though!  He seemed to be so happy to be with us.  I had bought some fancy dog food to feed him when he got to our home but  within minutes he vomited it right up.  Maybe it was the excitement on going to a new place or the new food I did not know.  Now, we know that Koal has a sensitive stomach and treat it accordingly   He is a great dog.  I wish that all the animals in shelters could be adopted.

— Susan from Kemp, TX

We adopted both of them from the York SPCA  a little over a year now.  They were both in abused situations.  The big one Snoopy, he was put in a barn because the owner could not take care of him.  The small one in the front, molly. She was found in a dumpster and she was pregnant.  They are the best dogs ever together and with other people despite the situations they came from.  I think all pets should be adopted.  People will spend thousands of dollars on special bred animal when there are plenty of pets out there that need a home and love.

— Margaret from Dillsburg, PA

While driving home from work on a busy L.A. street , I nearly hit a small fluff ball peeking out from under the tires of the cars parked alongside the road, trying to cross the street. I knew if I continued on, that fluffball would become a pancake in short order. I turned the car around and eventually snatched the (now barking at me) fluffball, which turned out to be a four month old pup.

After finding the owner and discovering that the pup had started out life in a dumpster along with her siblings, and that she had had a broken front leg that was healing incorrectly due to no vet involvement, and that the owners were not all that excited about owning her, ‘Annie” came home with me. Quite possibly the luckiest day in either of our lives!

— Don from Glendora, CA

It’s amazing how life happens when you least expect it. I adopted Flynn a labrador bull terrier mix, three months after I graduated and had a job. After being laid off in July, and moving back home with my parents, Flynn has been my best friend through it all. I promise him that one day, when I have a good job to afford an apartment or home, he no longer has to live in a cage and be free in his own home. He drives me to keep in shape and be at peace with myself.

— Cesar from Miami, FL