This is my "Ginger Bear Focht" story: I finally went to the Humane Society after the third week in a row that I told myself I was going. That was 3½ years after losing our Chihuahua, Penny. Her wind pipe collapsed and they couldn't save her. I got her at the Humane Society also. She was a loving little girl also and it took me that long to bring myself to look for another one. They are like kids: one can never replace the other and I felt there was no one that could ever come close to being a loving companion like her. Of course, I was wrong.
I went to the Humane Society in the afternoon of August 2, 1996. I went down the rows and rows of poor little ones all anxious to be taken home, and some were barking trying to get attention and the one that caught my eye was this little floppy-eared, short-legged puppy on the bottom row of the three rows stacked. They handed her to me and when I looked into those big brown eyes of hers I knew she was going home with me. She was such a little thing weighing 16 pounds. I asked what they knew about her as lots of the little dogs were brought in as strays. They said she belonged to an elderly lady that was diagnosed with cancer and she had no one to give her to and that she was worried about her care. She did go and take her home again then a week later took her to the Humane Society. Then I felt really bad that she was there, then home, and then back there. And that her name was Bear. I said maybe a Ginger Bear... and that was her name from then on.
I paid for her, her license, and bought her a new collar and leash, and I walked her out to my Blazer. I sat her up on the driver's seat and she walked right across the console and curled up on the passenger seat and we were on our way home. She never moved, except that whenever I slowed down or turned she would stand up on the arm rest to see where we were.
I also had three cats at the time: Casper, Willie, and Garfield, who are gone now. And I was thinking all the way home, "What if she doesn't like cats?" I pushed that thought out of my mind and figured she was young enough that she would adjust. Well, I carried her in and set her down right inside the kitchen door... she looked around and saw the couch, and the coffee table that has a footstool on each end with the table in the middle. She took one look at it and went running in, jumped up on the footstool, over on the couch, and stretched out like, "I'm home!" As for the cats, they never fazed her. She was focused on the couch and a nice nap. The four of them were good friends until the cats crossed over the bridge!
If I had gone to the Humane Society the first two weeks that I thought about going I would have missed her. She was on that couch most of the day. My husband, Dave, didn't know I was going for sure so he wasn't expecting to see the little pest when he came home from work. I met him on the sidewalk and told him to close his eyes, that I had a surprise... I came in and got Ginger and when he opened his eyes all he saw was that beautiful face of hers, the wagging tail and I told Ginger to say hi to Dad. She just starting licking his face like she knew him. It was such a meeting of souls. I was just meant to find her and for her to be part of us. And she isn't partial to me or Dave. She splits her affection, so to speak. She's my girl in the daytime, Dave's in the evening, and mine at night when we go to bed (she sleeps on my side because she knows if she gets cold Mom will cover her up). I might add that she is the only one that can out-snore her Daddy! To this day, I awake at night and I have to think before I tell Dave to turn over or nudge Ginger to move so she stops!
There are so many, many stories to tell about her that I wouldn't know where to begin. I have many memories to hold dear and loads of pictures. And all I have to say is, "Dad's home," and she's to the door standing at the top of the steps to greet him with lots of kisses and her whole body wagging. She walks up and lies on his chest until I clean up the dishes and sit down for the evening, and then she's over with me.
Our life was changed for the better the day I brought her home. This August will be 8 years. We celebrate her birthday on the first day of spring since we don't actually know when she was born. I thought this would be a nice day to celebrate the beauty of her. We both feel so lucky to have her, and when she was diagnosed with diabetes on August 28, 2003, we decided that we would do whatever it takes to keep her with us. We're hoping your healthy foods and treats will add years to her life.