AuthorAvokadoReading4 minViews687Published by11.05.2024
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The fact that some people choose to leave their devoted friends behind for the smallest of reasons pains us to the core. Heartless owners have given up on their pets or even attempted to have them put to sleep due to minor health issues or the simple reason that they are “too old.”
In one such tragic instance, the owner of a dog named Marcus decided to put him down because he barked excessively. Thank goodness, a second chance at life has been granted to this lovely canine.
Introducing Marcus, a 2-year-old mix of patterdale terrier and lab, who is currently in the tender care of UK-based NGO Lucie’s Animal Rescue. After barely five weeks, his owner gave him up due to his tendency of barking at people and other dogs.
But it was clear that Marcus’s owner had made no attempt to comprehend or modify his actions. She couldn’t be bothered to give him time or training, so much so that she had even tried to have him put to death at the veterinary clinic.
In a touching Facebook post, Lucie’s Animal Rescue stated, “Dogs communicate and express their fears and excitement through barking.” The owner of Marcus said, “He’s had none,” in response to a question concerning the training she had provided to assist him get over any potential apprehensive behavior.
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Because of his tendency of barking, the owner Obstained and decided to go forward with euthanasia despite the behaviorist’s offer of aid. “It’s disgusting,” said Lucie Holmes, the rescue’s founder, expressing her fury and heartbreak. I’ve been so irritated that I haven’t been able to sleep well. Canines emit barks. They just do it that way.
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Marcus was thankfully saved from such a terrible outcome and adopted by the caring rescue group. He is a kind and kind dog who hasn’t even barked since he arrived, according to his new guardians. “You are cherished and safe, Marcus. I can assure you that you won’t be treated in such a manner ever again,” the rescuer said.
Happily, Marcus has been mingling and making friends with other canines, according to the rescue group. Marcus no longer barks aggressively; instead, he just barks in a playful way, despite his previous owner’s problems. “I assume he’s been barking at other dogs in an attempt to greet and interact with them. Like all dogs do,” the rescue wrote with sentimentality. “It’s great to see him finally enjoying the company of friends and, most importantly, being a dog! He is very nervous and anxious.”
Marcus has been undergoing training since coming to the rescue, and he has demonstrated outstanding response time and command compliance. He is thriving in the rescue setting and adjusting well, though it is unknown when he will be available for adoption.
According to Lucie, Marcus’s tale should serve as a constant reminder to all dog owners that caring for a pet is a lifetime commitment that takes patience. She counseled, “You have to do your homework and give dogs time to settle.” “You wouldn’t bring a toddler to daycare and expect them to be content right away.”
Marcus’s surrender for no other reason than that he was barking excessively breaks my heart. We are ecstatic that he is now in the capable hands of people who genuinely concern themselves for his welfare, nevertheless.
If you love animals, please tell others about Marcus’s touching tale and contribute to the message of kindness and understanding for our four-legged companions. Let’s show them the affection and attention they merit.
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
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