Four years ago we were living in South Carolina, a happy little family of 5. We had gone to a local shelter to apply for one of several pit bull puppies, wanting to raise one the right way, to have a loving, joyful terrier join our happy little clan. There were MANY people applying for the 5 pups available, while waiting we went around and had a looksie at the other animals available.
This is when I came to realize just how much of a softie my husband really is.
Outside in the back was a seemingly empty pen, however, if you looked hard enough you could see there was a dog inside the dog house. D went in to see if he could coax the dog out with a biscuit. With no attention from the dog at all, he crept closer, even reached in to pet him, only to realize there were two dogs. They were pressed to tightly together one couldn't tell where one started and the other ended, the only clue was that there were far too many feet. When he touched their little bodies the already stiff puppies stiffened even more. These were not your average 7 month old puppies.
They, and their 3 siblings, had been dubbed the "Africa Puppies" and all named after countries of the continent: Sudan, Kenya, Chad, Zambia, and one other that had been fostered immediately, Ruphus.
We went home discussing names for the pit puppy, rattling off random names and words to each other, mainly place names out west like Zion and Sutter. Nearly home on that 45 minute drive I shouted out "Colbert!", we looked at each other and knew we had a winner.
Despite not being selected for the pit pup, Zambia and his siblings had struck a chord with D. So began the campaign to let us foster one of them. After training seminars at the rescue we were permitted the chance to foster one, Zambia.
Four years ago today D brought home an 8 month old scared, stressed out, feral little fluff ball of a dog named Zambia. 5 months later this puppy, now called Colbert, would be adopted as my Valentine's present. <3
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