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Sometimes in our search for the "perfect dog" we get so caught up in our mind's idea of what it will look like that we miss the essential aspect of what makes a dog our friend. A good friend of mine in coonhound rescue, shared a letter that she wrote to someone about looking for a dog. She expressed it so beautifully I asked for her permission to post it here.
I'd like to tell you a story. Please read it through to the end. I think it might help you find the dog you're looking for.
In 1993, a starving, pregnant hound dog showed up at my family’s home. We had no idea what she was or where she came from, but we took her in and fed her and kept her warm. Two weeks later she gave us what would become the greatest gift of my life. Five puppies were born to her, four of which lived. She couldn’t feed them, so we bottle raised them. Only one girl made it. The other four were boys. That little girl was my Carrie Ann. We found out later they were Plott Hounds.
Carrie Ann was mine from the beginning. As soon as they were old enough to be separated, she and her brother, Muttley, came to live with me. She slept on my pillow until she got too big, then she slept as close to me as she could get. She was always with me. If I sat on the sofa, she was beside me. Or behind me. She loved to climb up on the back of the sofa or chair and sit half on you and half on the chair. She adored going for hikes in the nearby Bankhead Forrest.
The starvation her mother endured while carrying her was not without its price, however. Because she was deprived of necessary nutrients in the womb, Carrie Ann was born with almost no immune system. She developed allergies to almost everything outdoors. The last four years of her life were spent trying anything and everything to keep her from itching and chewing herself raw. Nothing worked for very long. In November, 2000, her little body gave up the fight. I held her as she crossed to the Rainbow Bridge, finally at peace and no longer in torment. She is buried on a ridge overlooking the hollows where she loved to run.
I didn't think I could ever love another dog like I did Carrie Ann. She was my heart and my soul. My grief over losing her is what prompted me to rescue. I thought that if I could stop even one dog from going through what she had, it would be worth it. I wasn't even LOOKING for another dog of my own. Mutts is still here and I have three others I love as much as I do him. But none of them filled that hole Carrie Ann's passing left.
Eight months ago, I pulled a Treeing Walker puppy from a shelter for another rescue. I wasn't even going to keep him. But a funny thing happened. I fell in love. That puppy wormed his way into my heart in just a day or two and filled a place I thought would be forever empty. On the outside he's not a thing like my Carrie Ann. He's a he. He's white with brown and black markings. She was a beautiful golden brindle. He's got longer legs. His coat isn't as soft.
But where it counts, he's EXACTLY like her. He has her heart. He has her courage. He loves to climb the furniture. My heart is whole again. Carrie Ann will always be a part of it, but now her memory doesn't echo so loudly. I truly believe she sent him to me. She knew what I needed. And like most dogs, the package it came in didn't matter to her. It's the inside that counts. If I had been looking for a dog that looked like her, I would have missed him.
Stop looking for a dog with your eyes. Look for one with your heart. Your heart will know when you've found the right one. No matter what your eyes tell you.
Beth Spillers