Getting out of jail

My name is Chica de Tulear and I come from the noble dog family Coton de Tulear. The story I am going to tell you has its origins at a time when I had no name yet and lived with many other dogs in a dog prison. Such a dungeon is called a puppy mill, and I was there with the only purpose – to give birth to puppies. Dogs living there do not do anything else. The puppies are then sold by their prisoners to people who want to save some money (puppies from respectable breeders cost more and they come to new owners with a pedigree certificate). We from puppy mills do not have any similar document at all.

Not only did we have no names in the puppy mill, but no one even went out with us, so I did not know how to walk on a leash or even down the stairs. We could only dream of toys that dogs from the outside world have. We were locked in a shed most of the day, so we couldn’t even learn to pee and make poo outside. I knew no one but the dogs from my puppy mill, so I was afraid of people, other dogs, cars and all the things and sounds you normally encounter in the world outside.

But at the age of four, everything was about to change. At some point in space-time, two events occurred, the timing of which determined my future. The first one was very sad and took place a few weeks before our puppy mill was liberated. For my future human owners, their dog Pippin de Tulear died unexpectedly (he was also from our noble family Coton de Tulear). The owners were very sad about it, just as everyone is saddened by parting with a beloved dog. And it was at this sad time for them that they learned about the second event, which was the liberation of our puppy mill.

My future humans did not hesitate; they booked one of us by a phone call and came to see us. And so I saw them for the first time. When they showed up, all other dogs from my puppy mill were running around them, showing off. But I just stood aside and watched. My future he-human noticed me, pointed at me and said he would like to look at that one, with its ear turned up. Cheeky he-human, I had only forgotten to straighten my ear! And he was told that the one was exactly the four-year-old (by the way it was also enormous audacity to talk about a lady’s age, but I decided to put up with it for the time being) which they had booked previously by phone call.

So they loaded me in the car, I became their Chica de Tulear and at the same time I started writing this blog, because my humans are funny creatures and I can’t keep our stories to myself.

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