Georgie porgie.

My heart is broken yet overflowing. How can people hurt innocent little animals? How can they leave puppies in a pit, in the middle of Detroit, in an abandoned building? How can they do such a thing and then walk away? And ever feel good about themselves again? I guess I'll just never understand. And I'm glad. Because even though my heart is broken for poor little George, my heart is filled with love for the amazing strides he's made in just a few days, and the trust he's already put in us.

I picked George up (yes, we named him George. And despite my mom's protestations, I think it's a good, strong name. And far better than the horrible "Cinder," "Blaze," and "Arson" the humane society suggested) from the shelter yesterday morning. While prepared, I never could have really been prepared. He's four or five months old, so he's as tall as he should be, but there's nothing to fill in the middle. He's skin and bones -- it's so hard to pick him up because he feels so fragile... You can feel every bone in his body. He was cowering underneath a desk when I got there and had no intentions of moving. When we got him in my car, he peed (probably in pure terror!). I brought him home, set him up in the chair, tucked him in with a warm blanket, grabbed a handful of food, and we were instand friends. He spent the afternoon in his chair, mainly because his legs just don't have any strength. But you could see in his eyes.... he wasn't going to give up! He got braver and braver as the day progressed, peeking his head around the chair, and even getting down for a few laps around the rug with Heidi. Brad got home, and I'd saved George's evening treat for him to feed him to make friends with. I can't tell you how sweet it is to see this terrified, weak little pooch give it his all and walk around the room. By bedtime, his tail even came out from between his legs and gave a little wag.

Today he's just been better and better every hour. He's been awake most of the day, has hopped off the couch all by himself to steal some of Heidi's carrots, and he even walked all the way down to the backyard on his own! Oh, and he totally killed two bones and could probably eat a whole bag of food on his own. That makes me so happy to see. After everything he's been through, our little guy can still enjoy the small pleasures in life. And when he snuggled up to my arm this afternoon? Melt.

Now it's evening two, and Brad and I are comfortably flanked by our sleeping pooches. Brad has observed that Georgie loves to be outside -- even though he can only handle a few minutes of scooting around, he's eager to explore and his tail wags wags away. Did I mention he loves to eat?

While Heidi is clearly unsettled by this new pooch in the house getting waited on hand and foot, she is being a good big sister. She hasn't overwhelmed George, has only barked a few times, and as soon as he's on the ground, she's at his side, his little bodyguard foster sister. She doesn't even try to eat his stinky puppy food!

Two Days: A Pictorial