therapy
Pets are more than just playmates; all about pet therapy and the healing power of animals.
I and My Girl dogs Life Unleashed
OK this is a short story about me and My Baby now her name is Nicole and I found her a couple of months after another one of my dogs, my little Joey Jr. was born in June 2005 in which I bought a couple of months after my little Joey passed and I
By Vicky 'A' Blevins Reavis2 years ago in Petlife
Saint Linus
When I was 28 I decided to quit my life. Figuratively. Call it a quarter life crisis or crazy or brave or stupid or all of the above. Call it what you want, because the truth is, any of those things would be appropriate adjectives. However, no matter what you call it, it was the most terrifying thing I have ever done on purpose.
By Morgan Longford3 years ago in Petlife
We Didn't Get the Dog We Wanted
Sometimes we don’t get the dog we want; rather, we get the dog we need. Case in point: Sunny, a part-border-collie rescue dog, returned to foster three times before he came to live with us at 10 months of age. Sweet but traumatized, he was a dog who needed a stable environment. We were frustrated by his excessive neediness and fear-based aggression. As a border collie, he was whip-smart and learned quickly, but we never believed he would end up teaching us to love, grieve, and be more empathetic.
By Catherine Kenwell3 years ago in Petlife
Cages
I am trapped in a cage I didn’t make. My wings have atrophied from a lack of use, and I no longer know if my voice works. Even if it did, I do not know of what I would sing about. If anything, I think I would scream. My throat would become raw, but at least I would know that I still have a voice, even if I could hardly recognize it. My words would be those of a disembodied voice, reminiscent of the days that I still had hope that things would get better. But sometimes things don’t get better. Sometimes your wings atrophy and your voice fades and you are left not quite broken but out of use. At least broken things can be fixed. I have forgotten how to be alive. If I ever had a purpose, I have forgotten what it was, and it’s likely that it was never that fulfilling in the first place.
By Stella McKay3 years ago in Petlife
My Fiancé's keeper
This is Dagda. We call him Daggy of course, as well as little buddy, baby, big boy and other nonsense. He is a Groeenendael x Bull Arab cross, who likes to chew on his toy skunk and sit on people when they're trying to watch TV . The name 'Dagda', derives from 'The Dagda' of the 'Tuatha De Denann', a supernatural race from pre-Christian Gaelic Ireland (can see the obviously Wikipedia sourced article here). My fiancé named him as such because Dagda can be seen as a big hairy Hagrid mutha who protects and teaches, and represents strength and wisdom. Our Daggy is an assistance dog, and his primary roll is to provide physical, psychological and emotional assistance for when my partner cannot keep her head above water all on her own.
By James Durl3 years ago in Petlife
Cassi is My EmPAWee of the Month (and Year)!
This year, change arrived for both of us. We adopted Cassi from Romania in May 2021, with no idea of her background, other than the fact she was rescued from a kill shelter. She's such a special, beautiful pup, and she settled right in! My employer cut my full-time hours, so I started freelance work in July 2021. I went from a traditional 9-5 to a less typical 12-12, from stability to aaaaaagh. Cassi has been wonderful company and a fantastic motivator: After all, she relies on me to feed her!
By Victoria (@fodmapfeasts)3 years ago in Petlife
Echo
September 10, 2021 This morning I feel good, like really good, probably the best I have felt in nearly six weeks. My sleep was mostly uneventful, except for the crazy dream that woke me just before midnight. Looking around the room, my lamp still on, helped bring me back to reality: I was at home and not in Afghanistan. Back to sleep.
By Desmond James3 years ago in Petlife
My Life as an EmPAWyee
My name is Dozer. That's me in the picture. I am a 73-pound English Bulldog, and I am standing under the table looking up at Dad. He is working from home again, and it seems like he never has time to pet me. So here I am, trying desperately to get his attention and affection. It's not that Dad never pays attention to me; it's just that he seems to only want to pay attention to me when he wants to, not when I want him to. So, this is my life.
By Mike Johnson3 years ago in Petlife