Chance's Story
Dear Potential Adopters:
My name is Chance and I'm a free year old West Highland White Terrier who lives in Illinois. My story goes like dis: I was born a poor white Westie in a nasty puppy mill. I neber knew my parents cuz I was taken away from dem at a young age. I still suffer from anxiety cuz of dat moment, but I put on a brave front. After I was taken from my mom and other westie brudders and sisters, I was sent to a pet store in Iowa where I had to live in another cage - at least dis one was cleaner! People poked deir fingers frew da cage, some would hit da bars and it would scare me sumphin terrible. Da store would put us puppies in a pen where folks could pet us and some of dem didn't pet nicely. Dey petted way too hard! I still brace myself at times when folks pet me, even dough I know my mom won't let dem pet me hard. I still fink dey might. Well, two people came and bought me. Dey were older and dey fought I was too active as a puppy, so dey brought me back. Den, a younger couple bought me. Deir dogtor told dem I had some problems wiff my skin, so dey brought me back. I didn't, but deir dumb dogtor put me on a line of shots dat are for MANGE (please note the photo of me with all my fur, but dey said it was mange - huh?)! I didn't have mange or nuttin like that, but I still had to finish dese dumb shots! Well, da petstore people didn't want me anymore, so dey called da person who sold me to dem (dey call dem a broker) to come get me. Dey weren't berry nice, so dey took me to a local dogtor to have me PUT ME TO SLEEP cuz, as dey told da dogtor, I was a 'waste of time and money'. WELL - da nerve! Dat dogtor was mad! He told dat person dey had to sign me over to him and he would take care of me at da end of da day. Well, he sure did! He was NOT going to put ME to sleep - I was just a puppy! So, he called da local shelter and off I went. Dey were berry nice and gave me my first toy - I still have it! It is a green and white tug rope all my own. It was da first time I had sumphin of my own, but all I really wanted was my own mom and dad. I was 12 weeks old.
I was 16 weeks old. Angie had free udder dogs, another white dog like me named Gracie and two Yorkies, named Riley and Chewy. We had lots of fun playing and I had dis place to romp in wiff grass and dese funny critters to chase called squirrels! Gracie and Riley showed me all da ropes.
Well, Angie found a nice couple to adopt me. Dey drove over from Indiana and spent da evening wiff me and Angie's family. As dey took me back to Indiana, I crawled up over dat woman's shoulder as we walked away and looked at Angie who stood on her porch watching me go off to my new home - Aren't you my mudder? I asked her.... but she didn't hear me.... or so I fought. Sumphin called 'worry' was seen in Angie's eyes. Da berry next morning dat wady called Angie and said her other dog didn't like me at ALL! So, Angie left work telling her boss he could fire her if he needed to, but she had to come get me. So, Angie drove to Indiana and met da woman who was crying as she handed me over. She really was nice, but dat other dog was MEAN as a snake! On da drive back I laid in Angie's lap and kept looking at her and asking - Are you my mudder. Den, sumphing weird happened - Angie's eyes started leaking! (I knew she was my mudder!).
Well, it turned out that Angie's brudder had an old Golden Retriever and a Westie dat was my age. Dey decided dat Angie would 'foster' me 'til da old Golden passed away. Only, he and I had a whittle talk and I told him - 'Wook, Angie isn't da brightest bulb in da pack as far as humans go, she is my mudder so you need to stick around a bit longer so I can get her to understand dis - okay?". Da old guy understood and as time went on, Angie came to realize - I WAS HOME! (Sadly, soon after dis realization, da old 'General' died, but I am berry grateful to dis day for him hangin on for me!) Dat night of clarity was a wonderful one! I wicked and wicked her face cuz I was so proud dat she FINALLY came to understand what I was trying to tell her all along - YOU ARE MY MUDDER! So - I got da name of Chance cuz of all da chances I had - more dan most dogs left behind in puppy mills and pet stores. I wonder to dis day if my Westie mudder and fadder ever made it out alive - or did dey die, cold and lonely, forever wondering if dey would eber have a mudder and a fadder who would love dem like mine love me. I sure hope so. However, as long as people keep buying from pet stores, dogs like my mudder and fadder have to live and die in cages wiff no one to love dem and give dem a "Chance" at da real life. Sincerely, ** Chance was named Boomer Times Furkid Fun Fair Cheater of the Year on October 30, 2004 in St. Charles, MO. Singer, Bob Kuban (The Cheater) awarded Chance his trophy. Chance was seen as a real 'Cheater' in many ways when it came to surviving death.
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I was at da shelter for a month and no one came to adopt me. I was startin to be a sad puppy, so da nice shelter wady called Westie Rescue of Missouri. Dis woman named Angie came and got me from Illinois. She said she would foster me 'til she found me a home. I remember when she opened da cage door. She smiled real nice and I was finking - Are you my mudder? She petted my head and let me ride next to her da entire four hour trip back to her house. I kept looking at her finking - Are you my mudder? 
Well, another home was located for me - dis time in Kentucky. Angie spent lots of time on da phone wiff dis family. It too was home checked and dey seemed perfect - and dey were - only dey had another dog from a rescue dey just adopted who it turned out didn't like other dogs!! Sadly, da week before I was to go home to dem, dey called and said it would not work out as deir new dog was not getting better wiff other dogs and dey worried a puppy might get hurt. Dat night Angie and I laid on da couch and I kept looking at her, asking - Are you my mudder?