When Mrs. Stones and I got married, almost 1/3 of a century ago, I knew our lives would be enriched with family and pets. My family had never been great pootie fans but the years have brought many wonderful pooties and woozles into our lives. We are now down to three with an average age of 13. It is always a shame to lose one, but the love they give (and take) makes it all worth it.
Over the years we have had many furry children, all of whom were respected and loved members of the family. When we moved to the lowcountry of SC, there were three pooties and two woozles. Last year we lost two furbabies, one of each. That's what happens when you are running a retirement home for beloved critters.
Woozles First:
Rebel passed away in September at 15 years old. He'll be always young to us:
A little sun, a breeze and life is good:
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I'm a Happy Boy says Wilber:
Better known as Willie, he will help you any way he can. Licking is his specialty.
He is a real woozle when he says:
"Please save me from the lightning."
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Pooties Next:
We lost our diabetic Velvet Kittie last December after a long struggle. She was the only one who did not know she was sick:
Velvet liked to play guard, but was really a mush at heart.
Always on guard for the food to hit the bowl:
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Then there is Hannah:
The world's most curious pestulence. She can find the best hiding places and fits almost anywhere. (Thanks to Kossack Patch Adam for the caption.)
Who?? Me spoiled?
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Misa is almost as spoiled as Hannah, spending her nights under the covers or on my feet.
What's for dessert?
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Pootie and Woozle love:
or maybe just safety in numbers.
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Finally, OUR original woozle, Sugarbear (apologies to pandoras box):
When Mrs. Stones passes away, her ashes and Sugarbear's will share a place at the top of Bearwallow Mountain.
"No heaven will heaven be if my dog's not there to play with me." - stolen from a Kossack somewhere.