I got my beloved pooch when I was around seven years old. My grandparents bred and sold pure bred Pomeranians. Around the time my Grandmother got custody of me, one of her dogs just had a litter of four puppies. The only boy was a stillborn, which left three darling girls who were a handful. But I was a kid, and my "job" was to get puppies used to kids around. Since we never got a complaint, I assume I did my job well.
Eventually our ladies were 6 weeks old, which normally meant they were of age for selling sheet they had their shots and checkup. By this time I had been paired with two other dogs, one was not friendly to kids. And while she never bit me, it was clear we were not going to work. The other had a few bad habits that we couldn't break so she was moved to the kennels, which were well cared for.
So my Grandmother decided to try a fresh start. My Aunt had already picked one of these puppies. Leaving the other two for picking. My dog, now named Ferggie, sat next to me as if making up my mind for me.
Years passed and she eventually passed on due to age (14 years) and acute kidney failure. I was broken up by the loss of Ferggie and, as one would expect, I was moping around.
One night, however, my dog visited me in a dream. Her coat was healthy looking, and felt wonderful as we laid on my bed cuddling like we used to. When I woke, I almost expected to find her there. I then had a good cry and thanked her for that one last visit and a wonderful "I'm fine now, I love you, goodbye."
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