Thirteen years ago today, a dog came into the San Francisco SPCA to get spayed. Sometime between 8 pm on the evening of June 30 and 5 am the morning of July 1, while waiting for her scheduled surgery, she gave birth.
Instead of sterilizing her and killing every one of her puppies, a handful of little dogs were given the gift of life. Two of those puppies came to live with me. And I was given 11 years of unconditional love and great joy with Topham, who we lost in 2010. And 13 years and going with his brother Pickles.
There are many reasons why spaying a pregnant dog is wrong. Here’s one: Mr. Picklechips.
Who’s the birthday boy? Who? Who? You are Pickles!
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