Annie was old and covered with scars

Her soul was as deep and beautiful as her coat

I adopted Annie when she was 10 years old.

I didn’t mean to, but we fell in love. The minute our eyes met, we knew. Her foster mother warned me she might not come to me. But she did. She hugged her body to my leg and stayed there.

The whole time I had her, she stuck to me like glue.

But she as 10 years old. I knew, when I fell in love with her, that I was opening myself to the pain of loss. But I did it anyway.

Annie had been abused.

She was a purebred collie that had been used in dog fighting, probably because she was a large, mostly black dog. Her coat was thick and super soft, but it hid the terrible scars that covered her body. There were a few that were exposed, however, like one on her muzzle and a couple on her belly.

Her tail had been shot off. So she was a rare collie without that fluffy, brushy tail.

When I took her in for X-rays at one point, the doctor told me she had buckshot in her rear.

“Can we remove it?” I asked, horrified at the pain she endured.

“No,” said the doctor sadly. “There’s too big a risk because of where they are placed.”