Georgie Porgie, Puddin’ and Pie
I want to caution you: this post is raw, ugly and painful. It won't be flowered to ease anyone's discomfort of reading raw emotion, ugly words and painful topics. This is my therapy. I know I'm not the only one who needs it. I love dogs. My first dog was a black/white chihuahua/terrier mix named Tiger. Our family got him around Christmas when I was 5-6 years old. He was mean and I have the scars to prove it! Not too long after we got Tiger, we got Mary. Mary was a black and white dachshund. For all of Tiger's mean behavior, she made it up in love. They both lived very long lives. Our oldest son even remembers Mary. In our family, they were my brother and sister. No joke, I would get Christmas presents, even get well cards, from them. I knew better. I knew it was my Dad. So, I will blame my Dad for one of my greatest loves. Another person to blame for this craziness is my Aunt Clyde and Uncle Truman. That is who we got Tiger from. She bred dogs.