Adopt 08

Hello my good friends. I am participating for the third year in the row at the most generous contest: ADOPT! For all of you and, of course, for the judges here is my story told by mom:

He was one of the many stray dogs living in our neighborhood. He was captured by the dog-catchers and taken to a death camp. He was bailed out by one of our neighbors, an animal lover. Unfortunately the guy has a large family, kids and two German Shepherds so he sheltered him in his garage. We took pity on him and offered to take him in our apartment.

Comu' has been a popular figure for a couple of years in the surroundings apartment buildings that make up our neighborhood. During his walks he covered an unusually large area, so he had the opportunity to make many friends. Many people volunteered to feed him and occasionally to let him spend the night on the threshold of their apartments. But he also made some enemies. One of them reported him to the dog-catchers' company and requested his capture. After his release from the dog-catchers, my husband and I decided to adopt him. During our first walks with him we were happy to notice how many people in the street and in the park greeted us and congratulated us for adopting him and offering him the opportunity of a new life. His popularity actually surpassed our imagination. Everyday more and more people stop to bow to him when they meet us in the street and keep asking him: How are you? How does it feel to have a master? How nice and clean you are. And they tell us: We've known him for long, he used to see us to our place and what a good dog he has always been.

I'm telling you, my friends, every day in my new home is a party. Today, May 6th, I'm celebrating 715 days since I found my furever home. I wish that all the stray dogs in this world were as lucky as I am.

In This House.....

Although my only link to poetry is my friendship with Gunner and family, administrators of Pet Poetry Group, today I received from Miss Mystique this lovely poem which beautifully expresses what I feel sometime:

I will never know the loneliness I hear in the barks of the other dogs 'out there'.
I can sleep soundly, assured that when I wake my world will not have changed.
I will never know hunger, or the fear of not knowing if I'll eat.
I will not shiver in the cold, or grow weary from the heat.
I will feel the sun's heat, and the rain's coolness,
and be allowed to smell all that can reach my nose.
My fur will shine, and never be dirty or matted.

Here in this house...
There will be an effort to communicate with me on my level.
I will be talked to and, even if I don't understand,
I can enjoy the warmth of the words.
I will be given a name so that I may know who I am among many.
My name will be used in joy, and I will love the sound of it!

Here in this house...
I will never be a substitute for anything I am not.
I will never be used to improve peoples' images of themselves.
I will be loved because I am who I am, not someones idea of who I should be.

I will never suffer for someones anger, impatience, or stupidity.
I will be taught all the things I need to know to be loved by all.
If I do not learn my lessons well, they will look to my teacher for blame.

Here in this house...
I can trust arms that hold, hands that touch...
knowing that, no matter what they do, they do it for the good of me.
If I am ill, I will be doctored.
If scared, I will be calmed.
If sad, I will be cheered.
No matter what I look like, I will be considered beautiful and known to be of value.
I will never be cast out because I am too old, too ill, too unruly, or not cute enough.

My life is a responsibility, and not an afterthought.
I will learn that humans can almost, sometimes, be as kind and as fair as dogs.

Here in this house...
I will belong.
I will be home.

(author unknown)

All I want for Christmas...

So, this is my second Christmas. As many of you already know, I've been a stray dog for seven years, but suddenly my luck has changed. Now I know what Christmas means.
One year and a half ago, when my folks just took me in, I was... grateful, of course, but sad at the same time. I mean, it was summer, the weather was wonderful, just perfect for roaming round the neighborhood. They walk me all right, long walks, I must admit, but life out in the open seemed far more attractive. So when the walk was over and we were supposed to go inside, I used to brake and refuse to go in. I told them: "Come with me. I'll show you where to lie in the shadow under the parked cars. I'll teach you how to find food in the trash cans. We shall fight together the rival packs. I’ll let you know where to beg for food, I know several grocer’s shop assistants.” But they wouldn't listen to me. Now I'm glad they didn't. The summer was over and the freezing winter followed. It was much better inside.
Now when we are heading home from our walks, I'm leading the way inside. I just can't wait to arrive at my warm place, where my toys and my armchair are waiting for me.
So all I want for Christmas...

... is YOU!

My present

Probably you all want to know what I've received. Well... Guess what!? I received a dental stick.
Although I don't believe that I have a bad breath, mom does (and apparently St. Nicholas, as well), but since I like dental sticks, I play along.

Now, as yummy as they are, they are however sticks. STICKS!!!! Do you believe that St. Nicholas is trying to tell me something?

Saint Nicholas

Saint Nicholas (Greek: Agios Nikolaos, "victory of the people") is the common name for Saint Nicholas, a Lycian saint and Bishop of Myra in Anatolia (in modern-day Antalya province, Turkey, though then it was a Greek-speaking Roman Province). He was born during the third century in the village of Patara. He had a reputation for secret gift-giving, but is now commonly identified with Santa Claus.

Saint Nicholas Day is a festival for children in much of Europe related to surviving legends of the saint, and particularly his reputation as a bringer of gifts.

In Romania children typically leave their boots on the windowsill on the evening of December 5. By next morning Moş Nicolae (Sfântul Nicolae), as we call him in Romania, leaves candy and gifts if they have been good, or a stick if they have been bad (most kids end up getting lots of candy but also a little stick).

I just can't wait to see what St. Nicholas has in store for me.

Raincoat again

My dear friends, you won't believe my luck. The rain has stopped and today it's been a sunny and warm day. I am a happy dog. I didn't have to wear that coat! Woohoo! Not that the other day I was too unhappy with it. I must admit that it has its advantages. Like when we get back from our walk, mom has less of my fur to wash. She washes only my paws, not my belly. Like I've said, yesterday was my first rainy walk with mom. She wanted to see for herself how unhappy I am. Well, either dad exaggerated or I am getting used to it. I ran and I ran like I do when I am happy. I am happy when it rains. So mom is convinced that wearing the raincoat won't kill me. It has only one downside. It seems that I'm not very comfortable when I have to poop with it on me. But I did poop some, so it wasn't that bad.
Anyway, let's hope that it won't rain soon. I like my walks better without the raincoat.

Invitation

Hey, my dear friends, Halloween is around the corner and I know you are looking for the spookiest place to spend it. Well, Mr. Ralph Martin recommends Bran Castle in Bran, Romania, as one of the 13th (sorry) scariest places in the whole world. That's right, Romania, my country (Bucharest is not that far away, so do come visit me). Here is what Mr. Martin has to say about Bran Castle:
A vertiginous hilltop climb leads to a storybook castle that seems to have no horizontal surfaces: Endless stairways and towers are all that is visible. Inside, underground passageways connect dozens of rooms containing rococo antiques and suits of armor. All that's missing from Dracula's Castle, as Bran Castle is known, is a stormy night and a lightning bolt to illuminate the scene. A cloud of legend, local folklore, and literary pedigree hang over the dramatic fortress, perched 200 feet above the Romanian town of Bran. The castle has certainly reaped a PR bonanza as the setting for Bram Stoker's Dracula, with a reported 450,000 visitors a year—not bad for an isolated spot in Eastern Europe. The name comes from the notoriously sadistic tyrant Vlad the Impaler, known as Vlad Dracula, who is said to have used the castle as an occasional base of operations. Vlad earned his nickname by hoisting tens of thousands of enemies on stakes; one engraving shows him feasting alone at a table surrounded by a veritable forest of his victims hanging on spikes. Bram Stoker got wind of Vlad's legend and, after a visit to Romania, modeled Count Dracula's castle on this one. The castle is quite tourist-friendly, but just be aware that it closes at 4 pm, lest the sun set before visitors are safely away.

Bran Castle
Tel: 40 268 238 333

Rain, rain, go away!

You won't believe it but it's raining. I got to try my new raincoat this morning. Well... it's too big for me. Mom did measure me yesterday, but... I don't know, something is wrong. I'm not happy with it. It was an awful morning. It rained hard and the wind was blowing and I didn't exactly want to get out. I took only a few pees and no poo. Dad was upset. He said it was my raincoat's fault. It's still raining. Mom will insist to dress me up for my afternoon walk. And dad will be instructed to remove it in the middle of the walk if I don't poo again.
Wish me luck.

Autumn is here

I have good news. Well... sort of... Today mom bought me a raincoat. It was pretty expensive, but it's cool. It is red. I kind of preferred blue or green, but I look good in red, too. They didn't have another color. Mom wanted a yellow one, the kind firefighters have. I've seen The Fun Loving Family's video and WOW! I want a firefighter costume, too! I could be a hero, too. But you won't find such fancy outfits here. Mom is surprised that she found the raincoat. All I have to do is waiting for the next rain.

Hot, hot, hot... dogs!

I am one hot dog. We have like 39 degrees Celsius here, in Bucharest. I suffer terribly.
Mom was very worried about me yesterday. I acted very weird. We got back from the evening walk (one hour by the lake, no breeze, I'm afraid, but it was nice) and I went to the hottest room in the apartment and lay there. She tried to get me out but didn't succeed. She thought I was dying of heat or something. She sprinkled water over my head (very annoying but I just sat there, not moving). Only this morning she understood the cause. He, he, he! She brought some sausage from the hospital (grandpa refused to eat it) and wanted to feed the stray cats in the neighborhood. She forgot about the sausage and it smelled so good that I didn't want to leave its proximity.
So you see, for a hot dog, I’m ready to hot dog.