I’m seventy-five years old, born and raised in Tennessee, and over the years I’ve developed a habit of giving second chances to things others overlook. It wasn’t something I planned. It simply happened, slowly, over a lifetime.
As a child, it was injured birds I carried home from the creek. As an adult, it became stray cats that found their way onto my porch and stayed. After my husband passed away, the house grew painfully quiet. That’s when the dogs entered my life.
Not puppies or perfectly trained pets. I welcomed the ones who had already been through loss.
That’s how Pearl and Buddy came to live with me.
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