dalmatian rascal sunset
Rascal is a now seven year old dalmatian that I have had in my life since he was only ten weeks old. In my opinion, he is star material and would have made the perfect addition to any family. Sadly, he had a horrible start at life. When he was born the family who owned his parents decided they did not want more dogs and when the puppies were only six weeks old they dumped then all out on the streets. This was towards the beginning of December, and it was a cold, windy, and wet month. I have no idea what became of Rascal's litter mates, but Rascal was a fighter and somehow managed to stay alive during this time.
Christmas eve arrived and my entire family was gathered at my grandmother's house to celebrate. She is extremely old and can hardly care for herself, much less another living thing. So that night she very casually mentioned to me that there was a puppy outside; "a sick puppy. I think he's dead now". I went outside and inside an old shoe box was Rascal. He was shivering, under weight, dehydrated, and covered in filth. I immediately took him inside with me and started trying to give him water and food.
A few months later Rascal was an energetic, happy, crazy dalmatian puppy; nothing like the state he was in when I took him in. Today he excels in obedience, loves to play ball, is the perfect dog for taking on walks, and is my son's best friend. He has permanent disfigurements of his toes and ear from who only knows what happened to him as a puppy, but to us he is the perfect dog. Rascal makes me think of the old phrase, 'one man's trash, is another man's treasure'.