Little Helper

How would I ever get ready for work in the morning if it weren't for Snuffy's help. Bless his little heart he's always willing to sit on somethng I need or rub up against black pants and leave a layer of white fur. I think he tries to send me off with his own personal touch.

Trinket update:

Little Trinket is in the hospital. She is severely malnourished, has a slight upper respiratory infection and is anemic. I fed her this morning and she seemed in very good shape, even trying to eat Snuffy's breakfast, and I was really feeling good about her progress. I took her to work with me and when I went to feed her at 10:00 she was as limp as a dish rag. She wouldn't eat and looked as though she was about to expire.

To be honest, the vet wasn't particularly optimistic and said that we might lose her, but I'm going to hold positive thoughts because she is such a dear little thing. I know there's somebody out there who would love to be her person and she deserves a chance to have a good home.

On the upside, I have the neatest co-workers who have started a Trinket fund to help defray her hospital costs. Just when I begin to lose hope for the human race (brought on by the thought of the miserable person who dumped her pregnant mother out in the woods to fend for herself), I am overwhelmed by dear friends who are as concerned for her well-being as I am.

When I was a kid, my family was never without an animal. My mother was a dedicated, life-long dog lover rescuing any stray that came her way. My grandfather was known to judge a man by the way he treated animals. He said that it was perfectly okay to not like dogs or cats or any other critter, but it was never okay to deliberately mistreat or hurt them, and he never trused anyone who abused an animal. He always had dogs on his farm in Ohio and one of his favorites was an Airedale terrier who had been severely injured by some farm machinery. My grandfather was broken hearted when he took the dog to the vet because he never expected to see the animal again. Several weeks later the vet appeared at the farm and handed the dog back to my grandfather, fully recovered but minus one leg. The three-legged dog went on to live a long and happy life on the farm. My grandfather would always get a tear in his eye when he told that story.

So, everybody keep your fingers crossed for Trinket. Miracles do happen and it always helps to have a good vet.