Tuesday, August 19, 2008
When Rascal was a puppy trying to take him anywhere, in the car, in a backpack, on his leash was an ordeal. He screamed bloody murder like he was being tortured. He screamed when we held him, he screamed when we put him down. He must have come from a terrible place. I think he was taken from his mother before he was old enough. I had an awful time trying to get him to ride in the car with me.
Then one day he and I were between Buffalo and home and we got caught in a monster hailstorm. He scooted over onto my lap and snuggled there until we got home. After that, he was
Here's a picture of him when he was about 2 months old. God Bless You, Diane