I was looking through all my pictures on my Smart Phone yesterday and realized I had 23 of Charlie; far more than anyone else; even my ten grandchildren, even The Queen.
If you're a regular reader you've heard the story before on how he came into our lives. Did you know there are folks from faraway places who read this blog who don't know about the guy so here goes.
My pal was born on Jan. 14, 2014 and one month later adopted. The people who did decided they didn't want him so took him back to Pet Smart or wherever. He languished in a cage for one year. It was at that time he was then adopted out to a man, a professional, who took him home and had him for five years. The man went to work at 8 am and put Charlie in a cage until he returned home at 5. It makes me sick to think about it. Anyway, the guy re-married and the new wife told him to get rid of the pooch. We were asked if we wanted him. I was reluctant because I never go over losing our dalmatian and that was in '94.
The Queen insisted so on February 10 of 2019 Charlie finally found a permanent home. It took me a long time to fall in love with him. Hmmm! Let's see. My son drove him up from Cincinnati at 2 pm. We fed him dinner, played with a rope and when I went to bed at 10, well, he followed us upstairs and-----------yeah, that's how long it took.
Typically, when I run errands Charlie comes with me. When I go outside Charlie's by my side. The only place I wouldn't take him is to church.
I just happen to be a very lucky guy. If you've ever had a dog pal you know what I mean.
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