Hugging our new dog, my daughter learns that no matter what the behavior, our family is forever.
By Mary Zisk
I hate him! I want to give him back! I wish we never adopted him!” My 10-year-old daughter, Anna, glares, not at a younger brother, but at Mills, our new, older miniature poodle. Mills snarls back, baring the few teeth he has left.
Anna was three when I, a single parent, adopted her from Russia. As soon as she could speak English, she began to ask for a dog. Last year, no longer wanting to postpone Anna’s life desire, I finally relented and began our search for a dog.
Mills joined our family through a rescue group. He was a stray, about 10 years old, found in the woods eating a dead deer. Soon after Mills arrived, Anna realized he wasn’t the perfect dog….