In Another Life My Name Was Albert

Sam speaks: How does my foster-mother (FM) know my name was Albert? I respond better to kissing noises than what they call me now. She says that she’s joking, that my name wasn’t Albert or George, either. It might have started with a B. Buddy maybe. I like the B sounds. I’m not sure about names, but I like happy voices.

I’m afraid of being hit, which FM found out by accident by making a quick arm movement around me. I was so scared I cowered. She told me that no one was going to hit me, even if I made mistakes, and I felt lots better after that. She explained that when she moved her hands and arms,  that was something called sign language and sometimes she talks with her hands instead of her mouth.

13876453_1438902136136499_3918490837425821010_nI’m so happy! I love everything. I love car rides. I love being outside. I love walks. I LOVE squeaky toys – love, love, love ❤ them. I don’t understand why FM took out her hearing aid. I don’t understand why my foster-sister (FS) whines after a while from the noise. FM says it is because my FS is getting older and likes to rest a lot.

I love to play. I love to nestle on the couch. I love to smile. I love to run across the floor, hit the rug and slide on it. I love gutting stuffed toys, and love the ones FM put on the table to preserve their lives so much I try to sneak them away – but she has eyes in the back of her head and says, “No!” and I stop – for a little while. She says I need a big rope toy but she only has smaller toys because my FS only weighs 10 pounds. I want to play with my FS, but she is so little…

I’m learning to walk on a leash without dragging FM. She says I’m doing better and that I learn quickly. I’m learning not to dart out a door. This will take some time and practice. She is trying to teach me to have a “soft mouth” when I play because she is not a dog. I’m not quite sure what she means yet, but I try to please. I have a big bark. If she says “Shhhhh” I stop barking. I’m good like that. I’d scare the heck out of a burglar.

I hope I get a nice Mom and Dad with a yard and a dog big enough for me to play with. I’ll settle for a nice Mom and Dad. The rest is gravy.

(I wrote this to facilitate Sam’s eventual adoption) Look at that big goofy Sam smile.

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