When I first met Cami, she was obviously traumatised, painfully thin and had the saddest eyes I had ever seen. Having been through a difficult few years myself, I was drawn to those eyes and returned two days later to take her home.
That first night she jumped onto my bed and fell asleep, snoring loudly and taking up most of the space. She had never lived in a house – only a kennel for three years - and she was scared of her own shadow as well as buses, joggers, people in doorways, children, swans, footballs and flies – to name but a few. But as our relationship progressed, the rewards quickly outweighed the frustrations – watching her run round a field, curl up in her own bed, wag her tail when I came home or play with other dogs in the park.
Four years later I wake up to see a robust, happy dog with smiling eyes and I wish the coward who threw her out in a sack could see her now. And I only think of her as a rescue dog because in her own way she rescued me. She may never completely escape her past but I would not be without her.