Where's ma' Story, Mom?

Has it been long or has it been long?

This dog has been tied up with adjusting to everybody's new schedules. The big humans have been away from home a lot and in some faraway place called 'The Office', where dogs aren't allowed. (Humph!) Mom's started going to school at night and on Saturdays. (I really miss her!) The runty humans are here and there and all over the place, as always. Then there was COVID and dengue in the house that caused some upheaval in the sleeping arrangements and got me really confused as to who I was rooming with.

Thank goodness all that's over and life is normal again.

Except that Mom brought some furry dude back.

(No, I'm not referring to Dad.)

... and who are you?

Well, I never!

Mom says he's called Murry and that he's a sloth. He's here with us because he's got a story to tell and Mom's going to help him bring it to all the Humans out there.

How about my story, Mom? I asked her. I've got this dog blog and all. But we've never told my story, have we? And you're telling Murry's story? Tell mine first!

Mom thought about it and said That's true. So today, we're going to tell you the story of Miso (that's me!) It's short because there's a lot that I don't remember and Mom only knows whatever my previous owners told her. But here we go.

I was born 12 years ago. Or so we think. Nobody really knows for sure how old I am. But that's okay, the Humans say that age is just a number. (At least, the big Humans do. The little ones still like to keep count.)

For the first 5 years of my life, I lived in puppy mill. That's the name for a bad place where girl dog are kept in cramped and unhygienic conditions and made to give birth to as many babies as we can have. The babies are then sold for money. I lived in a small cage with just enough space to sleep and to stand. I had to eat off the bottom of the cage. Bath time was when the cages were sprayed with water from a hose to wash the pee and poo from the cages, and I suppose, to wash the dogs too. Back then, my name was May.

Life was pretty awful. When an animal charity rescued me and freed me from my cage, all I knew how to do was to stand on the spot and turn in circles. My front legs had developed abnormally due being cramped in the cage and having to bend close to the floor to eat. My teeth had rotted away. My skin was in poor condition. I was terrified of baths, having been forcibly sprayed by a hose.

I was fortunate to be adopted despite my poor health. My first pair of Humans renamed me Coco and took me to live with them for 5 years. They took me to the vet to get my health issues sorted, gave me warm home-cooked meals and gentle baths (still hate baths though), and took me on walks around the neighbourhood. The years went by and they had their own two little humans join the family. Life got extremely busy for them and they felt awful for not being able to spend time with me. What's more, the new humans, albeit little, were much larger than me and very playful, and I felt anxious and afraid around them. So, my first family had to make the difficult decision to put me up for adoption through the SPACA Rehoming Noticeboard that lets pet owners rehome their pets directly with another family. This was good because I didn't have to live in the animal shelter while waiting to be adopted.

That was when Mom saw my picture on the noticeboard! She had been searching for a small dog with a hypoallergenic coat (that's a fancy name for fur that does not shed) to live with her family. What's more, my name back then - Coco - was what Mom and Dad called the first of their three small humans! The small humans were less small now and had agreed to bear the responsibility of looking after a pet.

Mom, Dad and the small humans came to visit me at my previous owner's home. They arranged for me to sleep over for one night at my new home, just to make sure that I'd be okay when I came to stay for good. Everyone did really well during the trial! Mom made some adjustments to the house to accommodate my bed and my meal and pee spots, while my previous owners brought me to the vet for one final check up and all-clear. (I had just recovered from surgery to remove lumps in my chest.)

Two weeks later, I moved in for good. My other owners were really sad to see me go and checked in with Mom often to see if I was doing okay. And I was! They were happy and comforted to see me happier, healthier (less stressed) and well adjusted, and knew that they had made the right decision to let me go. My new family renamed me Miso.

So here I am! Miso Dog. Mom was inspired by Plum Dog to keep a diary and built me a website of my own: mesodog.com because Me. So. Dawg! Awesome, isn't it?

Murry says that Mom has set up a new Facebook Page and Instagram account to tell our stories. So I'll be doing some crossovers now and then. How exciting!

See you on the other side!

Love, Miso

Mom has this really bad habit of reading in bed.

But this MY bed, Mom!