My Pirate Boy

Pirate – its what they called him at the pound.  It suits him.

He’s always been a bit mysterious, a bit unique.  When we met, I knew nothing about him.  His age? His breed?

I went to the ‘Young Animal Protection Society’ and the lady showed me where the dogs were kept.  Then she added ‘oh, there’s another dog down in the bottom paddock, but I probably wouldn’t bother with him’.  I strolled through the enclosures but no dog spoke to me.  I went to the bottom paddock, some kind of doggie solitary confinement. he’d been in a fight that day.  His eyes told me that it wasn’t his fault. I believed him.  It was love at first sight.  I brought him home and he and Nancy became best friends overnight.

He loves pillows alot.  Even if they’ve been shredded into a hundred pieces.

And he prefers it if his bum never touches the ground.  Cold floors, yuck, not for this mongrel!

Pirates has a tough year, he lost his dog-sister Nancy in March and its taken him a while to get his mojo back.  He’s probably 11 years old now (I’ve had him for 10), he’s getting grey around his chops and his legs and hips aren’t as limber as they used to be.  But my dear Pirate Boy, you rock my world. I rush home to see you every day and you bring me so much joy.  I’m glad that you got lost and that I found you, you are my special pirate xx

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