367 days ago, my life was great. Scott and I had been in our new home for 15 days. My mom had been living with us for the past 10 years and we made sure that the home we built was big enough that she could always stay here with us and be comfortable. 366 days ago, I woke up to find her dead at the age of 63. It was very traumatic for me. I was no longer living, just merely alive. I wasn't sure that I would ever find my way back to "me".
Early in March, I saw a sad, little, one-eyed boxer on Facebook that needed a temporary foster for no more than 2 weeks. His face pulled at me and we drove to Desloge the next day to get him.
All Paws agreed to take him, and by extension me, in and 2 weeks turned into 2 months. I rescued Max from life on a chain, but that big dumb-faced boy taught me that it was OK to open my heart again. He put me on the road back to me. And with every dog we take in, or I transport, I feel myself getting a little closer.
Without even knowing, you all (and your doggies) have been a part of that, so I just wanted to say thank you.
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