My little doxie is finicky and is currently on an all natural freeze dried food- I’d like to try this, so that he has food options but will need a sample first due to his picky palette!

Shortly after I escaped the domestic violence situation with Max, I adopted Miley the mutt and she has helped me to learn what unconditional love truly is. I adopted her at the ripe age of 8 weeks and she really has taught me how to love. She has been with me since I met my (now) husband and she has helped us to grow closer to each other. She has such a mothering and nurturing nature, I know for sure that I will never find another dog as sweet and loving as she is. She was also adopted from the pound and I’m so happy I was able to save her. She is my little love bug and has helped me to realize how easy love is to give. She loves everyone no matter what and if that isn’t the best way to live life then I don’t know what is.

And my poodle is ultimately the house clown, he makes us laugh with his silly antics and since he’s the youngest he definitely gets in the other dogs faces sometimes.. He is a good boy and always keeps his eye out the window to make sure my family is safe. We named him Gnarley, as in the surfer term for beyond radical/ hairy situation/etc. We like to keep his hair long to match his name. He’s a sweet boy and when I look into his eyes I know how much he loves me and my family. He’s a very friendly little guy and has taught me that I shouldn’t be so shy.

I love my dogs.

He just knows my moods and reacts accordingly. Daddy was a huge Dodger’s fan and the announcer Vin Scully was his favorite. So I named my angel Vinnie. God sent this precious dog into my life to help me heal and boy has he ever. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God and Dad for sending me this sweet dog.

Several years later, I wrote my first children’s book about him with the original photos as an inspiration to children. The message was that no matter how sad you are, things will get better. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Brownie was our forever companion for 17 years. His original photo could be used as a poster pup for unwanted
animals. With a loving family, he turned out to be a very happy pup and not only shared his life with us but with several other animal friends that lived here.

My mother was diagnosed with AIDS when I was six. Trying to explain this to a six year old wasn’t easy, so in the grand tradition of my family, she took me shopping instead of talking about it.

It was about a month before my birthday, (so maybe I was still five, I don’t really remember). I had never really met my father, but somehow or other he was wrangled into coming on this quest with us.

A drive that seemed like two hours brought us to a brick building with howling and screaching echoing everytime the door opened.

I don’t remember much. I remember a tall counter that I could not see over and two doors (one labeled “cats” and one labeled “dogs”). I remember pointing to one door and following my parents into it, only to find a sea of small cats and kittens. My father picked up one small, orange tuft of fur and dangled him in front of me saying, “Wouldn’t you like him? He looks like fun!”

I loved him when I saw him. Sometimes you meet a person, or visit a town, or see something that you fall in love with immediately. That was Milo. He was just a kitten then, so small. Little did I realize then that we would be inseperable.

My entire six year old knowledge consisted of Beauty and the Beast and Milo and Otis, so when I realized the kitten looked exactly like Milo, Milo he became.

We did everything together. My mother would go to the hospital for months and leave me with my Grandmother in a great big, beautiful house in Connecticut. Milo always stuck with me, through thick and thin. He would follow me to the bus stop every morning, wait until I left, and return home and go back inside to sleep. He would leave mice on the door for me when I got home (“Dang it, Milo!” I would yell.) He would sit at the table with me when I ate, but would never beg. He would curl up next to me when I went to sleep. When I cried he would lick my toes until I was laughing so hard I forgot all my troubles.

My mother passed away when I was ten and I was forced to move into foster care where cats were not allowed.

It broke my heart. I had always been sort of antisocial so Milo was my best friend and my whole world.

My Grandmother promised she would keep good care of Milo and she would keep him inside where it was safe. She promised to send pictures and letters about him, and that was all I could ask from her. She was eighty-six years old and I couldn’t expect too much.

About a week after I left, I received a devastating call from my Grandmother. Milo had passed away. He had fallen asleep on my pillow that I left behind and never woke up. She said it was because he was heartbroken. He wasn’t a young cat, so maybe it was just his time. However, the thought of him dying as soon as I left haunted me throughout highschool.

Last summer I went back to visit Connecticut, my Grandmother’s house, and my mother’s grave. It was six years after he passed away. I found a box in my Grandmother’s attic labeled “Milo”. Apparently this was a box that she had meant to send me at some point but had forgotten. Inside were hundreds of photos, and one very small catnip mouse that I had bought for him when I was in second grade at a school fair.

She had attached a note to it which read: “Some people go their whole lives and never meet their guardian angels. You’re very lucky to have such a nice one that will watch you forever. He was a wonderful cat.” On the bottom of the note she had glued a Polaroid photo of me painting a picture with watercolors and him lying across the paper. He was so goofy! Hahaha!

To this day Milo continues to brighten my day. I have pictures of him everywhere. He is the greatest friend I will ever have. I don’t consider myself a cat person in the slightest. I am most definately a dog person. Foremost, I will always be a Milo person. :0)