'Tis the season (December 21 is Duchie Day, Kleenex alert)

[Rae]

Kleenex alert. Here it is.

for those of you who do not know my first furbaby's story, this is a very special time for us. Will try to keep it short and not too teary eyed.

On December 21, 2000, BlackHeartedSatanHeWhoseNameWeDoNotSpeak (my ex) was out in the barn getting hay for our bull. It was incredibly cold for KY, and we had had a major ice storm. God was with my little girl, as Satan chose to use his hands rather than the pitchfork that day. He reached in the middle of the bale and thought he had grabbed a rat (hey they like to keep warm too you know) . Thank goodness he did not have gloves on and felt the cold wet nose and the faint weak lick on the back of the hand.

He later told me that he figured out it was not a rat, and then "I just started pulling and there was this realllllllly long dog- it just kept unwinding"...

He called me at work and told me he had found a Bassett Hound, and it would probably be dead by the time I got home but if I wanted to try and save it I better come home early ... Bassett Hound- he never was too bright. After all, he let me get away!

I got home in record time to find this tiny little dachshund, emaciated to the point of near death, almost frozen, dehydrated, and with little will to live. I immediately put a basket of towels in the dryer and heated them up, then buried her right in the middle. Off to the vet, clothes basket in tow I went.

After a big juicy bag of IV fluid, he gave her a 50/50 chance of making it, and home we went. Dr Buddy assured me that if she had spent one more night outside it would have been her last.

I warmed up some (I know, I know) Alpo canned food and she perked right up when I waved it under her snoot. A whole can and a bowl of water later, we were snuggled up on the couch in a blankie with the heating pad on low. She was terrified of Satan at first, and for years she was scared of most all men.

I found out two days later on our vet checkup that she was 5+ years old and had been a puppy mill mommy. The scars and stitches and tattoo on her poor mangled belly told a horrible story. (She didn't even have the right number of nipples, they did such a horrible job sewing her up....) It seems there had been a mill operating in our general area but no one could find it.

We believe she either escaped or was kicked out, and she was either spayed (poorly) or had trauma because she never in heat after I found her.

OK OK... Wipe your eyes, and fast forward to the last several years of her life. HRH The Duchess of Wagoner slept on a fluffy pillow in her crate by the bed (or sometimes in the hoomon bed), she had plenty to eat and drink and all the belly rubbins any one pupper could ask for.

Most important of all she was loved and was part of two families, one at home and one here at the DLC. She went to "Gran's" when Mommy and Daddy would go out of town, and she got presents at Christmas. She was welcome anywhere Mommy went, or Mommy just didn't go there anymore.

She had no fear of her Hoo-daddy Sutton because he told her she was worthless and not worth the price of a bullet.... in baby talk as her rubbed her tummy and gave her a cookie.

She was and continues to be the best Christmas gift I ever received, and I firmly believe she was sent to me straight from heaven, because tinky breaf and all she was Mommy's Girl and dearly dearly loved.

The Duchess left this world for the next one June 21, 2012, and she will forever be in my heart. I always post this story near Duchie Day (December 21), because she's not the only wonderful Gift found in a barn this time of year.