LETTERS LIKE THIS WARM MY HEART!! -- Leslie
Hi, my name is Tara, and my family adopted a sweet little
basset from you guys a long time ago.
My best friend was named Annie, and we met her at your Basset Rescue
a long, long time ago. She was a silly, hyper dog who loved to tug
on the leash when we would take her out for walks, and she would bark
at bees that snuck into our house, and she would
laze about on the couch and have barking contests
with our other dog Sadie.
When we met Annie, we were trying to decide on whether
or not to adopt her or another basset named Hank.
Hank walked right up to us three kids and rolled over,
wagging his tail and begging for belly rubs,
while Annie walked up to my mom and did something
that helped to make my moms decision very, very easy.
She went and gave my mom a big, slobbery kiss right on her face,
then went and gave my dad a kiss,
then went right back to my laughing mom.
When we brought Annie home, it seemed to change a lot
around our house.
She almost immediately was taught by Sadie that
she needed to ask us to let her out when she needed to do her business,
and that the house wasn't to be used as a toilet
(which made it easy for us to realize if she was stressed out,
because then there would be more accidents). Sadie and Annie
became the best of friends, and when Sadie went blind Annie helped her
navigate around the house. She helped to keep Sadie company
in the long years they were siblings,
and grieved with us when Sadie was to be put down.
We had to move from our house in Butte about five years ago, and moved to Helena, MT
to temporarily live with my cousins. Of course Annie came with us, and I had come
to be very close to my dog-sister. We eventually found our own apartment,
where Annie learned to channel her inner mountain goat while climbing
from chair to chair, and she would go and sleep in the room I shared with
my sister every night, and I constantly woke up to seeing her snoozing on my feet.
We once took her out to a sort of family gathering, which ended up involving a hike
up a very large hill that looked out over a beautiful ranch. We had to lift up
some barbed wire to assist everyone before hiking (it was on private property
that was owned by the family that lived there, so we had the ok to be hiking there),
and so we lifted up some to help Annie get through. We had her on a leash all the
way up the hill, because we didn't want her running off on her own, but she
had a blast hiking up there! Sure, she was tired when we get to the top,
but despite her drooling she had the biggest doggy grin I ever saw.
We had to get the leash off her when we headed down the hill again because she
was practically running, and what does this silly dog do as soon as her
leash comes off? Well, she heads straight for the dangerous route down,
through a rocky outcropping littered with prickly pear cacti. But she took it on
like a professional, dodging every cactus and practically bunny-hopping down the hill.
We got a picture taken by my sister that we all agree was the best picture
of that goofy dog. A link of it is here, if you feel like checking it out
I was one of the first to get down and past the barbed wire, when suddenly
I heard everyone telling me to hurry back to the fence. Annie was galloping down
towards it, and I wasn't sure she could get past the fence without help
or without hurting herself. But as I got up to the fence, I found the cra
zy little dog
had managed to get past the fence unharmed and was waggling her butt
as she ran up to me and licked my face.
Two years ago, I moved to Portland to try and go to school there. I feared that the last
time I would see Annie was the day I went onto my bus headed out.
So I hugged her as if my life depended on it and I set out, never expecting
to see her again. However, as fate would have it, I was heading to move back
to Helena after 3 months. I was worried that Annie wouldn't recognize me,
or would ignore me and would think I abandoned her, but just as I got out
of the truck in front of my apartment, Annie ran up to the gate and barked happily
at me. I was so relieved that the doggie still loved me as much as I loved her,
and she continued on our old routine of sleeping at my feet and waking up at
odd hours in the night to go outside.
It has been a year since I last saw Annie. Her age unfortunately caught up to her,
and we had to see about having her put down. We estimated that she was about
fifteen years old, but sometimes with how hyper she was I swear she was still a pup.
We buried her out on some property that belonged to a friend of the family,
and her grave is marked by several rocks and a tree that holds her leash.
She has a nice view of a valley covered in trees, and I hope to come down
there and talk with her again. I know she would have liked that.
All I wanted to say was....thank you. For everything. My family has seen some
good times and some bad times, but the important thing to remember
I think is that Annie was always there for us, looking at us with
her smiling face and wagging her tail so hard she practically coined the
term "butt-waggle" for us. So thank you, so very much, for introducing my best friend to us.
If it wasn't for you guys, we probably would have never met her, and I wouldn't
have gotten so many opportunities to have such vivid and lasting memories.
Annie was more than a basset hound, or a best friend of mine. She was my younger
(so to speak) sister. And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving me
the opportunity to have her in my life, and to be a part of hers.
Thank you so much again. Sincerely,