The dog in question, who I have decided to name Winston - after the glorious Mr. Churchill - was abandoned in the snow at the end of January, together with his brother. After spending a few days drifting through a local village, both Winston and his sidekick were eventually rescued by the French equivalent of the RSPCA. Both dogs were then locked in a cage, outdoors, at which point their last fourteen days of life on this planet slowly started to count down. (Fourteen days is the usual amount of time which abandoned dogs are held, before being put down, if they are not claimed by their rightful owners OR saved by kind-hearted people like my wife and myself).
Winston is very young, and a cross between a bichon frisé and a poodle, who has settled in well into our home, where he has been befriended by our other dog, a twenty-four kilo poodle, who goes by the name of Bess.
Winston was saved by us in the nick of time, and after a long shower, a decent haircut, and all of the usual vaccinations, he now resembles the dog that he is, and not the dirty, miserable, flea-bitten creature which was thrown out in the snow and sub-zero temperatures by someone who clearly had decided that keeping a dog is a wonderful, but only if it's for a few days.
May bad fortune and misery visit the culprit responsible for such a vile act. Well, this was my initial reaction on seeing poor Winston for the very first time, but although I would like to see the bastard who likes to abandon dogs punished, I suppose he/she/they will never be caught, and live the rest of his/her/ their life/lives uncertain as to what happened to the dogs they left to die. Of course, such scum-like individuals have no conscience, so I am deluding myself if I think these sort of people would ever spare just a minute to think if the dogs survived.
|I don't drink brandy or smoke cigars, but my name IS Winston!|