Dallas' Story.

You can find all posts where I talk about Dallas here.

We adopted him when he was three months old and we still lived in Washington D.C. Along with his two siblings, he had been shipped up from a shelter in Tennessee. We were not looking to take home a dog that day, nor a puppy for that matter, but I am forever grateful that we did. God led us to that adoption event and to that puppy. Because, as we would find out a few days later, we most likely saved his life by taking him home. It was a Saturday. The following Monday I had him at the vet because his breathing was labored and he wouldn't walk. He had pneumonia. I had to take him to an urgent care animal hospital and he had to stay overnight. Hubs and I went to visit him that night. I will never forget how he reached out his paw to me from his isolation chamber. He seemed to say, thank you for caring. Thank you for adopting me and helping me. I will love you forever.

Dallas, our Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. He's eighteen months old with big honey-colored eyes. That match his soft fur. Seventy pounds but I don't think there is one ounce of fat on him. Well, maybe in all that lovably hug-able skin around his neck. Yes, he may be a dog, but he is definitely a member of our family. S's big brother. Protector. Acts like a big bad tough boy, but gets scared at the drop of a water bottle. Loves his rope, walks, and being outside. I have so much love for that dog.