My name is Cruze. I don't think it has always been my name but I forget it now. I found myself at a very high kill shelter and United Yorkie Rescue saved me from a sure death. I am going to tell you what I know about myself. I have asked Phyllis to tell you my story as I tell it to her.
Someone took me out of the shelter right before I was going to die. They were from United Yorkie Rescue. I went to a vet where they found out that I weigh 4.5 pounds and that I am at least 8 years old and that some of my teeth like my canines are short because I probably lived in a wire cage and wore them down trying to get out. The vet found out that I had a big tumor on my spleen and it had to come out, the whole spleen, I mean. I also had a terrible operation so I can't make anymore babies which is what I think I was used for. For the last two weeks I have had staples in my chest and stitches in my private parts. I have to wear a plastic collar because I love to lick my stitches when Phyllis isn't looking. I also have something wrapped around my middle because I think Phyllis does not like when I lift my leg in the house. Nobody has ever told me I can't but I can tell Phyllis would rather I do everything I need to do outside. And I do when she takes me but when she goes away I get nervous so I have something like a diaper called a belly band.
So, I was with a lady and she called Phyllis to see if she would take me in because there a lot of dogs saved and not always enough people to take them. Puppy mill auctions and raids sometimes when people go in and take some of us so we can be happy. Even though Phyllis only wants to foster one dog at a time, she just couldn't say no to such a little dog like me.
When the lady called Phyllis it was on a Friday and Phyllis had just gone to Disney in Orlando Florida to celebrate her 70th birthday. She had never been there before. I know this because she talks on the phone and tells people so I hear it. I am at least 8 and can speak several languages so I understand it all. Phyllis has told people that she never had so much fun and liked her meet and greet with Winnie the Pooh, whatever that means.
The lady who took me out of the hospital dropped me off at Phyllis's house on Sunday before she even got back from Disney. When I was dropped off I went into a house with two girls that were taking care of Phyllis's dogs, Elvis, Cookie and her other foster dog Barney. I don't like Barney by the way. He keeps trying to play with me. He weighs 11 pounds and I weigh just a little over 4 but when he tries to play with me I jump out of my bed and snap at him and then he does the most rediculous thing. He lays down on his back and then runs away. Size means nothing. Just a couple of hours ago Phyllis took her Elvis out. He weighs 12 pounds. A big boxer game at him and Elvis bit him on the nose and the other dog was bleeding. Phyllis was horrified but since she doesn't hit her dogs she just made him lay down like a time out. Dogs will be dogs. The bigger the dog, I understand, the more agressive Elvis can be. Strange that he has fostered oer 30 dogs and gets alone or ignores all of them.
So that's the beginning of my new life here and I will keep you posted. I must say it's not bad here, I get good food and sleep in Phyllis's bed. Sometimes I want to sleep on her pillow so she moves over.
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