It’s been a long while since I have added to my pet series, ‘Let’s talk pets’ but I am finally starting to feel myself and I think I’ve managed to get myself back on track, so there will be a lot more pet stories coming your way!
Thank you all so much for your patience and without any further ado here’s the wonderful Karalee’s pet story.
My name is Karalee, and I from Texas, but I currently live in Denmark. On my blog Tales of Belle, I write about beauty, books, and lifestyle.
When I was a young child, my parents adopted a husky-chow puppy and named her Angel due to her white color. Shortly after my parents adopted Angel, she became sick and it was discovered she had parvo.
My parents did the at-home treatment and Angel pulled through!
Since then, Angel grew close to me and my parents as well as our others dogs. As a puppy, Angel was very good and did not destroy our house. At one point Angel even taught herself to give paw when we asked her to sit.
When me and my parents moved to a new house, Angel slept in my room on my bed. She also had tons of outdoor space to run around, and she would take the occasional swim in the pond, but she hated when her paws got dirty when it was wet and muddy outside. She also enjoyed going for walks around the neighbourhood with our other dogs.
Since Texas could get rather hot and Angel had a thick husky coat I had to brush her frequently and she would enjoy her favourite treat while I did so which was the dog version of peanut butter ice cream. If I did not brush her enough, the whole house and my clothes would be covered in white hair.
For, Christmas I would buy presents for my parents as well as for Angel. Angel learned how to tear open the wrapping paper, and she loved getting new plush toys with squeakers inside and new dog treats. She also liked showing off the new collars I bought for her and her shirts and sweaters which she would wear during the cooler months.
When I was packing to leave for university, Angel laid in my suitcase wanting me to bring her. I missed her while I was at university, but when I returned home during school breaks I always brought her treats and a new toy and she was always excited to see me again.
After I had my daughter, Angel would lay by her and watch over her. Angel was a great companion during the brief time my daughter got to know her. Sadly Angel passed away after I moved to Denmark, but I will always remember the good times I shared with her.
What a beautiful and carefree soul your little Angel had! I’m terribly sorry that she’s no longer with you but the memories you have and as you mention above, the brief time your daughter got to share with her are treasure you can keep with you always.
Thank you so much for sharing your lovely pet story with us!
If you would like to share your pet story simply: Email me at: Littletinkable@Gmail.com With your pet story, pictures and a short bio of your pet &/or you. (If you have a blog and wish to add any social links feel free to do so!) I look forward to reading (and sharing!) the next pet story. _ If email isn’t your thing you can always contact me through my facebook page LittleTinkablee Blog or my Twitter @Tinakbleeblog
Darcy of Preserving My Sanity lives in Minnesota with her husband, two dogs, one cat, four chickens, and a handful of goldfish. She and her husband enjoy cooking, gardening, food preservation, fishing, hunting, and camping. When they aren’t working on their hobbies, you might find them drinking a margarita together on their porch
I was 24 years old when I got my first dog as a Christmas gift from my boyfriend, and we drove in a snowstorm to pick her up. She was a light blonde golden retriever, and she was perfect. She was always the sweetest girl with the biggest heart, and I learned so much from her. During a hard and scary time in my life when my relationship ended, when I wasn’t sure what was next, she was with me.
We travelled for my job together for 6 months, as nomad pals. Everything we owned was in storage except what fit in my small car, and she hung out in her crate during the day while I went to work. In the morning and at night, we walked on the beach. She was always with me.
When I bought my first home, she and I spent the first night on her dog bed since my bed hadn’t yet been moved in. She escaped from the fenced in backyard that first week, and came to the front door scratching to get let in. She missed me whenever she wasn’t touching me, and she was so soft.
Her name was Dakota, and she loved to swim. When we went to the lake or to the beach, it was nearly impossible to get her to stop swimming. When it was time to leave, she would just keep jumping back in the water, just like the children at the swimming pool who continuously beg their parents for “just five more minutes!” She also loved peanut butter, stuffed animals, tennis balls, walks, snuggles, and her beagle sister.
When I met my (now) husband, she loved him just as much as if she’d always known him, and she loved it even more when she got to come along in the boat with us. One time we were out fishing in the inlet and he cast his line out, and she jumped right off the boat to go fetch it. We struggled to drag her big wet butt right back up into the boat, and she didn’t do that again.
She was prone to cancerous lumps, like many golden retrievers. I continued to get them checked, and removed, and she was a pro at wearing the cone of shame. When she was 10 years old, she started having trouble regulating her body temperature and she was always thirsty. We took her to the vet and they diagnosed her with liver cancer, and said she had maybe about a year or so to live. I was so devastated. She ended up living 2 more years, until ultimately her body quit functioning properly and it was time to say goodbye.
I wrote this blog post: (https://preservingmysanity.com/2018/10/01/sweet-dakota/) about how to know when it’s time to say goodbye, as it was something I struggled the most with during the 2 years I knew she was sick. I didn’t want her to suffer, but I also wanted her with me as long as possible. In the end, the decision came in the right timing and we said good-bye to our sweet girl. We buried her in the yard, and planted a perennial garden there.
Today, we still have her beagle sister Mattie – who is 12 years old now and just had a (non-cancerous) lump of her own removed from her chest and is doing well. We also have a 3-year old Brittany spaniel named Bill, who is a total stooge and character and reminds me of Dakota in so many ways. He is my buddy and I love him too.
My husband and I don’t have children, and I truly don’t see a time in my future where I won’t be the momma of 2 dogs. The saddest part of being a dog mom is that they don’t live as long as we’d like them to, but I will just love them as hard as I can while they are with me, until it’s time to recycle the love.
If you would like to share a story about your pet all you have to do is email me your story with pictures of your pets (and of you if you wish) and you’re story could be featured on my blog! I post them every Monday and Friday’s.
Introducing the ‘Lets Talk Pets Series’ a series where I share YOUR stories about YOUR (or someone you know) pets. Here I’ll be sharing all kind of pet stories from heart harming to heart breaking, from crying to laughing. These are true stories of people’s pets or of people’s pets.
Today’s story is told by Danielle Calloway. Danielle Calloway currently lives in Ecuador as a volunteer teaching the deaf. In her free time, she writes. Her first novel, The Lost Child, based on a true story of an abandoned deaf boy, is now on Amazon. And with out any further delay here’s Danielle’s pet story! You can follow Danielle on Twitter by clicking on to her username – @AuthorCalloway
Charmaine and I were sitting drinking smoothies out of a plastic bag, watching the hordes of people in the bustling open market, when we saw a curious sight. A dog walked up to a small bakery, sat down and stared at the owner. She looked down at the dog and told him, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” After attending to her customers, she filled a bag with bread and handed it to the dog. The dog gently took it in his mouth and trotted off, tail wagging.
Seeing us watching her, she explained, “The
dog comes by every day. I can see that
he’s well cared for and loved, which means he has a family. The strange thing is, he never opens the bag,
just takes it and trots off. I figure
he’s bringing it home to his family and they must need the bread.”
“Aren’t you curious to know who he belongs
to?” asked Charmaine.
“Of course,” she said, “I’ve thought about
putting a note in the bag, but I don’t know, I think I like not knowing. And I don’t want the family to feel obligated
to pay me. This is something I can do to
help someone in need.”
Fifteen years later, while walking my dog,
a woman asked if she could pet her. We
sat down and as she pet my dog she said, “About 15 years or so ago, I had a
dog. He was the best dog I’ve ever
had. You know, he saved our family? We were out of work, didn’t even have money
to buy food. I didn’t know how I was
going to feed my children and they were crying from hunger. One day my dog went out in the direction of
the open market came back with bread. He
did that every day. And it was bread in
a bag! At first, I thought he stole the bag,
but since it happened every day, someone must’ve been giving the bread to him. He never opened the bag, never ate the bread,
just came every morning and gave it to me.”
As her eyes misted with tears, remembering her hero, I said, “Do you want to know what really happened?” and I proceeded to tell her what I saw that day, years ago.
I think we can all agree that this is one story I’m glad I read. What a good dog! And such a lovely ending to a lovely story about an incredible pet!
If you have story about someone’s pet or have one about your own and would like to share it please email me your story, at: firstname.lastname@example.org
I truly hope you enjoyed today’s first post of my new series of ‘lets talk pets!’ If you have any feed back I’d love to hear it in the comments below. Please don’t forget to subscribe, share and like. I hope you all have peaceful and lovely week. until next time!
(So I started writing this post last week during eating disorder awareness week and ended up putting it on pause and writing other posts instead, I guess I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was to have my full story out there but it is something I want to help spread awareness on and so without further ado here’s my story so far).
Some of you may already be aware of ‘Eating Disorder Awareness Week’. A week dedicated to spreading awareness about eating disorders, people who have them, what it’s like and how to help.
This one hits home a little personally as I have been suffering from an eating disorder for many years now that I haven’t really spoken up on and haven’t really sought out any help on until recently. I have only recently just accepted and become aware of my own issues, after living blissfully (or so I thought) in denial for far too long, allowing those who loved and cared for me watch me turn into something… that could barely pass as a hallow shell of who I once was.
I had easily convinced myself that I was fine, I didn’t have an eating disorder, that everyone was being overly paranoid about my weight because I was just skinny, being skinny through my years I’ve heard it all about my weight. But back when I was younger I never really had a problem with eating, I had what was probably a great relationship with food but as I grew and my body grew so did my taste buds and the food went from tasting like heaven to tasting and feeling as though I had ripped off a piece of cardboard and popped it into my mouth.
I had started going days and weeks without eating when I felt too bad I would drink a lot of tea and suck on a few pieces of chocolate to get me through the day… That was only a year ago for me. It was only a year ago that I accepted that I did have a problem with food.
Because I’ve had so many people talk to me about my weight, worry over me about my weight I never paid them any attention. I’ve had so many people ask me if I suffer from anorexia or some other eating disorder, I didn’t care for it and didn’t want to hear it, it just started making me feel self conscious about myself. I went from only mildly caring about what I looked like to spending up to two – three hours getting readying and checking myself in the mirror. I started wearing more baggier clothing and avoided people I knew instantly would have something to say to me.
It always got to me the way people think they have the right to tell me what they think about my weight, It always seemed cheeky to me that they’d feel comfortable enough to let me know they had been staring at my body and decided that I was too skinny for them. I’ve had people who work with people like me treat me like I’m some delusional fool, I’ve had them think they were helping me when in reality they couldn’t have made things worse. I’ve had someone laugh in my face after telling them something someone has said to me about my weight or lack of as well as my flat-chest. This coming from someone whose job requires them to be sympathetic, understanding and no judgemental unfortunately it’s a trait people don’t know how to rid themselves of.
I guess that’s why I had spent so long in denial so determined not listen to them, telling me they were only letting me know because they were worried about me was starting to come off a lot more like that of scolding a child. It’s never a nice feeling to have everyone around you knock your character down to something small, tiny and voiceless. People started looking down on me, assuming they knew what was best, assuming I can’t handle a life of my own. People already have their thoughts on what they think I want, and they’ve never been so wrong in all their lives.
So with people making me feel as though I was on my own, that we weren’t on equal footing it made me distance myself a lot more from everyone. It made me cloak myself in the saying, “Don’t care what people think of you.” And I had, I’d really stopped caring what people have to say about me, about my life about the things they think I will or won’t accomplish in life. Or at least I thought I’d managed to stop caring.
I started to loose a lot more weight. I wasn’t necessarily that under weight when all of this started, being a small and petite female I have a really petite body frame and of course because of all that I was lighter for my age than others. But I never lost weight to the extreme of fitting into my petite 10-11 year old sisters clothing, it wasn’t to the stage that I was forever seeing every bone that my upper body owned, I had thighs, I had bum and little boobs. I wasn’t bad.
2016 was when my weight started to really drop, my boyfriend was concerned and always trying to get me to eat whenever he could. I was worrying my mother and siblings but I wasn’t paying attention to the way my health was affecting them. I’d convinced myself I was fine, and so that’s what I was, I was fine.
But I had stopped caring about what I looked like, I stopped caring about the things I wore. I stopped fitting into my clothes and settled for living in tights, leggings and my boyfriend hoodies. Sometimes I’d make an effort in what I wore but I had to borrow my 10-11 (At the time) year old sisters clothes as mine were too big and she was the only one closest to my size.
In 2017 I’d got hit with a really bad virus that had left me bed ridden for a month. I had spent days and nights throwing up whatever I could while not being able to eat anything or keep any liquids down. My family and boyfriend were really worry for me by this point but I kept telling them I was fine. I’ll get over it like I always do and get on with life as normal. Except once I had recovered from it I had taken a look at myself in the mirror and got a shock of my life.
I had found out why everyone was looking at me with worried glances, why my boyfriend wanted me to eat or drink whatever I could, why my mum (who due to her own eating disorder is very understanding with mine) was practically begging me to go to the doctors and seek out help.
I went from being skinny to being…nothing. In that month I had wasted away into nothing and to see that nothing staring at me in the mirror? it was a truly terrifying thing to experience, to realise. The week after I got myself down to the doctors and I have been in the hopes that they have been able to help. So far I have had major struggle getting help from any professionals however I have made my own steps in gaining the weight back since then.
Right now I am waiting arrangements from Talk-Liverpool and an Eating Disorder Clinic in the hopes that they can help me. I have taken my own steps in helping myself including, by keeping an eating journal and through yoga practice.
Stay tuned next week as I’ll be posting what steps I took in order to help myself once I came to terms with my eating disorder and what other eating disorders there are out there, I’m personally shocked by how many there are that I was so unaware of! I’ll also be sharing what a year of yoga has done for me and what it could do for you.