I Work For Food

"Min Pin mixed breed dog."

“I work for food.”

I’m little.  I’m cute.  I’m a used-to-be-street-stray AND I work for food.  It’s a good gig if you can get it.  To live in the lap of luxury.  Down quilts to sleep on,  regular meals;  your own pack.

I am something called a “rascal,”  a “scamp.”  I am always busy.  I am WORK.

I’m just 18 pounds.  But.  I can jump from a standing position straight up,  over 5 feet.  Easy.

I WILL snatch one of those birds that swoops into my back yard.  Watch.  Me.

I came with something called “baggage.”  Deep male voices inside of big (human) men scare me.  Still.

I am WORKING on that.

I’m faster-than-a-speeding-bullet flat out fast.  And I DON’T have to work at that.  It is who I am.

And, I am SO all about food.  Could be due to that livin’ on the street thing.  Scrounging for any kind of food.  Not always finding it.

I think I was eating for more than one.  Know what I mean?

Food.  In a New York minute,  I will turn on a dime and streak back to where you stand, holding out the tiniest chunk of cheddar cheese or – be still my heart – a sliver of steak.

Like I somehow can’t believe my luck that I am here,  in a perfect sit,  looking up at food.

I will and I do WORK for food.

Postscript:  Some of you already know Tessa’s background.  For those of you who are just meeting her,  she owes her second chance to the folks at Another Chance Pet Rescue.  One of their volunteers in Indiana pulled Tessa from an animal shelter.  She came into Rochester on a transport over a year ago to find her forever home with us.





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