Today is not my actual birthday, but it's the date mom chose for me because it's the day she rescued me 3 years ago. No one really knows the exact date I was born, which is kinda sad, but it's all about how my life ended up that counts, right?
February 9, 2003 is the day I began my new life. God must have been watching over me that day. How I did not end up getting hit by a car or mauled by a large animal is a miracle. Here I was, a little 6 lb. toot, wandering around a busy intersection. On top of that I had mange, among other ailments.
Mom, Dad and I wish only good things for the kind souls who removed me from that dangerous situation and brought me to the animal clinic. That's where I locked eyes with my mom and we've become inseparable ever since.
I wish I could tell everyone about my life before, but since that's not possible, we'll simply accept our good fortune at having each other. The past is not really relevant at this point.
Yes, February 9th is a great day in my book. I think I should receive at least 9 treats to mark the occasion. Doesn't that sound reasonable?