My mom has become quite interested in the animal rescue movement.
First of all, we live near a PAWS adoption center. They have mostly cats and no more than one small dog.
Every time we go by, my mom says, “See how lucky you are, Gracie? You have a good home! And you complain about everything.”
Who, me? Just because there wasn’t enough peanut butter in my kong toy… that’s a legitimate complaint, I’d say.
Then my mom became Facebook friends with Karen, who is Pumpkin’s foster mom. She gets all the bulletins of desperate dogs. And she sees the Puppy Mill stories, which make us all very sad.
“Imagine, Gracie,” my mom says, “some of those dogs have spent their lives in cages. They’ve never even had a tummy rub, according to that article. You get massages all the time from total strangers who want to give you a butt rub.”
The cats are rescues too but for some reason they never get lectures.
On the other hand, my mom took to heart the story of the poor dogs who never got a tummy rub. Now I get one every day.