Pootie was sick last week, and it looked like she wasn't going to make it. I cried and cried. We've only had her for a few years, but shes about 12 or 13 now. She was near death when she found me outside, starving, ulcers in her eyes, exhausted. She cried at me so persistently, she was determined to get help. She saved me in this weird way. Being able to scoop her up, so easily in her frantic state, and taking her inside to sleep for three days on my bed. She's been my furry little girl ever since.
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