Anyone who knows me knows I am passionate about animals, especially rescue dogs. Growing up, we had cats as pets, and while I loved those kitties, I always wanted a dog as well. As a mother myself, I now understand why my mom didn’t want to take on one more creature to take care of (and though we promised we’d walk and feed the dog, you know she would’ve wound up doing it most of the time as I now do). So when my husband and I finally bought our first home, we immediately started searching for a dog, and per my husband’s request, a boxer.
The website Petfinder helped us to locate our first dog, a brindle, boxer mix puppy at a rescue in North Carolina. Her name was Mabel and it fit her to a T so we didn’t change it. I still get a little teary-eyed just thinking of that sweet girl. We had her with us from the time she was 12 weeks old (and looked like a tiger-striped potato) until two days before her 16th birthday. We lost her last year when she suddenly became ill with a stomach blockage. She was so wonderful that I thought no other dog could ever live up to her lovable quirks and sweet, constant loyalty.
Then one day about six years ago my husband came home from work in Providence, very excited that he had been the first to get our name on the adoption list for a purebred, ten month old boxer puppy that had been dropped off at The Providence Animal Rescue League (PARL). The pup’s owners had decided that after ten months of cuteness, the dog had grown and was too big and wild for them. I immediately told my husband no. We could not adopt a second female dog. I’d been told that it was not a good combination and could potentially lead to fighting between the dogs. But my husband pleaded and I finally gave in, stating that this adoption was on a trial basis and I had final say. Well, as I said, it’s been six years since the day he brought Peaches home and though there was certainly an adjustment period, the two dogs never fought or had a single issue. Peaches accepted that Mabel was alpha female, and Mabel welcomed the wild pup into her home and eventually even let Peaches snuggle up to her.
So Peaches, you snuggly little goofball, you are loved. You have your own sweet quirks and goofiness just as Mabel had hers. And you helped to ease my grief when we lost Mabel and keep my heart full.