Littles

Six years ago I pulled a little white bug eyed Chihuahua from a shelter in Spalding GA where they still gassed their dogs.  He was a rescue only because of his temperament.

I had him brought up on a transport in January of 2009 intending just to foster him. I went to reach for him out of the crate where I met the transport van and he tried to bite.  I had to shake him out of his crate like salt shaker to get him out. He was emaciated terrified and full of fleas.

I took him home and bathed him in  the sink at the horse  barn where there was warm water to get rid of the fleas before introducing him to Cali and Sadie.  After I got him in the house he took right to me. I was his.

Because of how terrified he is of strangers and his willingness to bite when cornered I decided to keep him. Out of 50+ foster dogs he was my only "foster fail".  I don't generally name my foster dogs. They are referenced by their gender or breed as I know people will change their names but will always default and say good boy or good girl. It would be familiar.

Littles was how i referred him at first and it stuck. This picture is from 2009.

Interestingly enough a bad break up with a guy named John prompted me to bandaid my heart with a distraction...Littles needed me and I needed him.

Talk about foreshadowing. Another silent John. The first one 6 years ago broke up with me by simply never talking to me again after we departed per usual one morning. As in I never heard from him again ( until 2 years later when he apologized and I gave him a second chance....and after 8 months of dating he did it again! Haven't spoken to him since).

Coward.

The both of them.