We had already been discussing another dog. After all, maybe Millie could do with a pal, right? I contacted a local rescue and considered a few dogs but none seemed right. Then we got a call. A relative was housing a wiggly Yorkie-mix puppy but could we please take her?
Turns out, the puppy had been trotting up and down a nearby road, and when followed, she took off towards what appeared to be an abandoned house. But it wasn't. An old man lived there and yelled at the puppy rescuers to take the dog, I don't want it. So they did.
She had a broken back leg. She was cold. And she was severely malnourished. We took her on the spot.
The leg's doing better. It didn't require extensive surgery, for which we were relieved. The veterinary surgeon is pleased with the "function" of the leg and aside from it being crooked, you can't tell she was ever injured.
And boy, is she rambunctious. The silly thing loves to be outside. Yesterday, after letting her out and not hearing from her after 10 minutes, I went looking. She was in the yet-untouched part of our yard, digging.
I texted Josh and told him the source of that mysterious pile of dirt we saw the night before. And then I sent, "but how can I be mad at this?!":
Little dog, you've been given a second chance. Welcome home.