We had a major debate about what to do. We couldn't take him to a shelter. We knew how crowded they became this time of year with unwanted "Christmas presents." And Buddy was so sweet and good-natured we feared what might happen if he managed to get adopted.
We know all-to-well that some people think dogs are things to be kicked around, not living beings. Our last two dogs were rescue dogs that had been horribly abused. It had taken a lot of patience and a lot of love for them to trust humans again.
Tuesday morning, January 1st, DH and I planned one more round of posting pictures of Buddy this week. We decided if that didn't work, we would keep him. He'd already claimed me as his human. Sleeping with me. Snuggling on my legs while I wrote.
Then, amazingly, we got a call from Christie, the Lost Pet coordinator, on Tuesday afternoon. Did we still have the Yorkie? She feared we had found another home for Buddy or had taken him to one of the local shelters.
Nope, he was still here. A few minutes later, DH spoke with the owner who was on the verge of crying over the phone.
Turns out Buddy's name is Toby. He's the companion of an older, disabled gentlemen named Enrique who feared he'd never see his beloved dog again. Unfortunately, Enrique and his wife were out of town for the holidays when they got the call from Christie. Within a couple of hours though, Mrs. Enrique was at our door, and Buddy/Toby's excitement at seeing her confirmed we had the right people.
All's well that ends well, right? Except I missed the little ball fluff who curled up and slept next to my chest for the last three weeks.
