Trixie is napping and I’m taking the opportunity to introduce myself and share a different perspective on her human momma with you. My name is Angel ... at least that’s what they call me now. I didn’t have a name before I came here. I lived on the streets of Houston and I’m not even sure how old I am because that’s not important when every day is a struggle to stay alive. I can’t even remember how many humans have been cruel to me or how many cars have almost hit me. One car did hit me and dislocated my hip and I got wrapped up in some sort of metal that tore my side up pretty badly. But that was all before I came here.
I didn’t know love before, and to be honest, I was pretty scared at first. I was not used to people touching me and talking to me and all of the sudden, she wanted to touch me like I wasn’t horrible or anything. She spent hours talking to me. Her voice was soothing and I would fall asleep listening to her. She would use towels to scratch my skin, and oh my goodness, it felt so wonderful. Like I was rolling in fresh grass! My skin was so itchy but I couldn’t reach all the spots and somehow she knew just where to scratch me. Every day was easier to trust her. I wondered, Is this what love felt like? Was love when someone knew exactly where to scratch without being told?
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