July 3, 2014

White Dog watched the tiny plane flying barely above the treetops. She looked at me. "You know what this reminds me of?" she asked. I rubbed her ears and raised my eyebrows. "The stories dad tells of going to rescue Puff. Now THAT was a tiny plane; Puff was so brave!"

"It is Throw Back Thursday, you know," I told her. "Do you want me to dig up those photos?"

Puff came to us in November of 2010, the sole remaining pup at the once proud kennel that bred White Dog but due to misfortune and cancer had slipped to backyard breeding and greatly reduced means. Puff at 12 was past use as a breed dog and lived in the open elements in the Kansas dirt. We didn't know it then but she was heartworm positve, stage 3, and nearly feral. But she trusted Steve enough to fly in his arms in a noisy racing plane and begin a new life as the fourth member of the White Dog Army.

We quickly learned Puff would steal things and hide them outside.