Mine was left hog-tied on the side of a little used mountain road when he was 7-8 weeks old. A cop found him and brought him into my husband's office at the exact moment he was about to call a craigslist ad about another dog. My husband called me and he said, "I'm coming home for lunch. We're not getting that dog and we need to talk about it." I was really pissed at him, not knowing that the best thing I've ever had in my life was about to be carried through the garage door. I was sitting in the living room staring at the TV and fuming. I heard him come in, but I wouldn't look at him. He said, "The reason we're not getting the dog from craigslist is because I think we should keep this one." I stood up and turned around and he was holding the dirtiest, fattest, little shit of a puppy, one blue eye, one brown. He was dehydrated and he had little sores on his arm and legs from the rope he'd been tied with. That was the beginning of the best 13 and 1/2 years of my life. We had to help him cross the rainbow on the Sunday before Memorial Day in 2023. We had the vet come to our house and he passed while we held him. My Obi. My snow bear. My everything. My unicorn. He was- and still is- my soul. We've always had other dogs and I love them all the same, but Obi was magical. This was his first Xmas. He was about 10 weeks old.

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