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At 38, I got my very first pet, Mocha (born 23 may 2000) , a miniature Yorkshire terrier. I honestly never understood till now what a difference a pet makes in one's life. I purchased Mocha from a breeder in Florida, who didn't tell me, or probably know, that Mocha required special nutrition because of her small size (10 ounces). Two days after bringing her home, I found her laying there, cold and stiff. I rushed her to the vet, who gave her maple syrup to increase her sugar level. I was told that the breeder should have kept her till she was older and stronger. She was then sent to the emergency pet hospital hoping we would get there on time. Two days later I brought her home from the hospital, and proceeded to inject her with food, with instructions from the hospital. (Mocha was too weak to eat). A few days later, Mocha was once again cold and non- responsive. I quickly gave her maple syrup and called the hospital. Guess what? The technician who released Mocha had made an error with the dosage to inject in her. But Mocha was meant to live. You see, I was ill for a while, and Mocha has made a difference in me that no medicine ever could. She not only shows affection and warmth, but through her I've learned that if a 10-ounce pup can almost die and survive, then we humans could overcome almost anything. I am glad to say that we are both doing wonderful. Mocha's loves people and loves the outdoors. She is very comical and knows how to get what she wants. She loves our food but doesn't get any except for an egg or pieces of apple or carrots once in a while. My parents adore her and she has helped my mom in her recovery. |