When I found "Goodboy," he was on the side of a country road chewing on an old piece of pig hide. He was so small I could hold him in the palms of my hands. I brought him home and gave him a bath as he was covered with fleas. The next step was to call animal control to come get him. I waited a week for their call back and by the time they did call we had decided to keep him.
My husband's boss told us if we kept the dog they would pay the vet bill, to have him checked out. They almost wished they had not offered as my poor little dog was very sick from lack of food and care, and the bill was over three hundred dollars. The vet did not expect him to live. We brought him home and gave him medications and fed him Mighty Dog canned food. I didn't tell him the bad news and so since he did not know he was expected to die, he didn't. I ask the vet how big he might grow to be and he said like a beagle-sized dog. Yeah, right. Goodboy grew to be the size of a german shepard. The reason he ended up being called "Goodboy," was because he would not come when called any other name. So the name stuck and we enjoyed him for ten long years.
Wow!
This is a very heartwarming story. I was reading in disbelief. I am very glad that he overcame the obstacles and is now a very healthy dog.
Usually in these situations they need an owner or a friend to hold and take care of them and most don't get that.
There is actually a movie called Goodboy which is of course about dogs but more of a family film. I would recommend watching since you are definitely a dog person.
Hope you enjoy and thank you for sharing something so personal!
Goodboy, had a good life for 10 years. One morning I went out to get him out of his pen and found he had passed away during the night. I was so heart broken for I loved him so much. He was smart and listened most of the time, and was a very good watchdog. It took me two years to get over his loss and then one night I dreamed about him. I was in the woods at our favorite spot and he appeared through the trees and came up to me, pressing himself against my chest and whining low in his throat, like he did when he was alive. Then he stepped away and looked deep into my eyes, turned and walked away. I knew in the dream and afterwards that he was okay and I did not need to be sad any longer. The next day I felt a deep release of all those sad emotions and a sense of peace about his death.
