by Jerilee Wei

Created on: May 29, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Fondly remembering my grandmother's pet Chihuahua, so small that she was carried around in Gram's purse wherever she went - I answered an add ran by a local dog breeder. The gentleman met me half way to our farm, at the local convenience store, with a wooden crate of puppies of various breeds on the back of his pickup. He, of course, failed to mention on the phone that he no longer had any Chihuahua's.

The pups were cute but all over-priced. As I chatted with this pleasant, but crafty man, it didn't take long for him to ascertain that we lived on the last farm on a dirt road with a number of ponds - all of which were well known to locals, as a prime fishing spots. Thus, came the usual inquiry, of "Can I bring my boys out to fish?" It was a little hard to say no this single father of three little boys, when their little faces were eagerly pleading from the back window of the truck.

The next day, he showed up with fishing gear and boys and more. Chained on the back of his pickup was a fawn Great Dane. She was so skinny, you could see every rib and every bone along her spine. By his definition, she was supposedly "well trained." I guess it was my fault for agreeing to him letting her loose to run. Run, she did, right for me. She was so happy to see me that she stood on her hind legs, front paws on my shoulders and twirled me around like a long lost dance partner. Though underweight, she was the taller of the two of us. There was no way I could escape the slobbery wet kisses, because I was too busy trying to maintain my balance. All I could think of at the time, was that somehow I was now living a Marmaduke cartoon.

It turned out that "Queenie" was a rescued Great Dane. He was trying to find a good home for her. By the time he told her sad life story of being locked the basement day and night until rescued - I was completely aware that this animal breeder wasn't an avid angler. He was desperately looking for a home for this dog. Before he left, needless to say, we agreed that she could stay "temporarily."

Well, we may have had seven hundred acres, but we only lived in a 25' x 25' cabin. The dog could hardly turn around in some rooms. She'd never lived outdoors and as thin as she was, she'd never survive outdoors even for a night. Queenie stood taller than our kitchen stove top, and taller than the kitchen sink. She was so starved for love, that if I got up to do anything, even go to the bathroom, she would not only walk with me, she would lean on me the entire trip.

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