Our three sons kept begging for a dog so we set out to find a pet shop. Entering the first one we came across, there was a 92 pound dog laying on floor in the center of the room. Beautiful dog, part German Shepherd and part Husky.
Our three young sons wanted to pet him so I asked the man working there if he was friendly or was he the guard dog? The man said he was friendly and good with kids. I checked this big guy out and he seemed really gentle, quiet, and laid back. This dog looked at me with the kindest, wisest eyes I have ever seen on a dog. He also looked sad.
After just a couple moments of checking him out, the man came over and said his name was Sinbad. I gave the okay and our three boys rushed over to shower love and affection upon this big furry beast. My husband and I looked at the puppies, but none of them seemed right for us so we went back to fetch the boys to leave, when the man once again approached us and asked what we were looking for. I said the boys wanted a dog. The man said, "I've gotten a brand new, little dog and have to get rid of Sinbad. I've told him, he's going to the pound tomorrow."
I thought to myself, that sucks, here's a big, beautiful dog, evidently he's had him awhile and he's throwing him away like a thing.
Looking at the man I remember saying, "Ahhh don't tell me that. You and I know what they do to big older dogs at a pound." Man replied, "Well I have to move into an apartment and can't bring a big dog with." Sinbad was really looking at me now, pleading.
The boys were shouting, "Oh mom, he's perfect, he's so friendly. Can we take him home, please?" I asked, with baited breath, "is he potty broke?" The man said "yes, he's never gone in the house since he was a puppy." The man added, "he's free." Michael started begging with the other two chiming in.
Asking my husband "what do you think?" John replied, "He's really big but I guess if the kids want him."
I sighed and said, "Load him in the car." With that, Sinbad was like a shot and raced to the front door, with the boys running after him.
Once outside, Sinbad politely sat on the parking lot while the boys piled into our big LaManns. The three fit perfectly in the back seat but there was no room for this big furbaby. Sinbad continued to sit and waited to be told what to do. I asked the boys if Sinbad could ride home stretched across their laps and they were near hysteria by now saying, "Yes yes, come on boy." Sinbad waited though until I said, "It's okay, get up on their laps and lets go home."
Michael had told us that was one of the happiest days of his life. He was overjoyed when Sinbad jumped up and onto their laps. They were so happy riding home and I felt good rescuing a dog.
This was my introductory to dog (and later cat) rescue.
Our "free" dog ended up costing us over $400.00 because he had heartworms which required a treatment at the vets for several days. Not all dogs make it through this treatment but Sinbad did, thank the good Lord because by now the kids were really attached to him. Secretly I was too.
Once he came back home from the vet's we settled back into our regular routine. It did not take any adjusting, Sinbad, true to the man's word, was perfectly potty broke and was very good at letting us know if he needed something. At around supper time he would bring his empty bowl telling me he was hungry. He would also bring his water bowel if it was empty.
All the neighborhood kids came over to visit him. He had more friends than anyone else but at night, he would go lay in the laundry room the first two weeks. He missed his previous owner.
Sinbad made me realize that dogs have feelings just like people do. He clearly was depressed at night so I would go down and sit with him in the laundry room and talk to him. I told him that his other companion couldn't keep him but we would take good care of him and he would never have to worry about going to the pound and that we already loved him.
Eventually his depression lifted and he would bed hop. We gave him his heartworm pill religiously every month.
The only time we ever saw Sinbad get angry, was when there was a knock on our front door and my husband went down to see who was there. As my husband got to the door, Sinbad jumped up and ran, putting himself between the obnoxious teenager looking for Michael and my husband, John.
I'm thinking Sinbad smelled either a gun, fear or hate because never before or since has Sinbad ever bare his long teeth and growled, shaking the very windows.
This young man at our front door was sort of gangland looking and my husband said, "Michael is not going anywhere with you, we don't know you."
Sinbad kept growling. Again, this dog would allow kids to fall on him, pull on him, he was always so gentle. I had a ominous feeling that afternoon that this kid was trouble and Sinbad sensed John was in danger.
The kid left rather quickly as Sinbad was not going to budge.
John told me that he really believes Sinbad protected him.
Years later Michael admitted that person was indeed in a gang.
My other memories of Saint Sinbad, were when I would brush his fur and throw it out in the yard the birds would fight over it. When I brushed his fur in the winter I would bag it until spring.
The birds would swoop down and fight over Sinbad's soft fur for their nests.
I still have a small bag of Sinbad's fur.
The morning of March 13, 1997 I awoke and Sinbad wasn't in bed with us or any of the boys.
He was laying in the dining room and couldn't get up. John and Michael had to put a sheet under him and lift him that way. His back legs gave out. The vet said he had hip dysplasia and he was a older dog, surgery might be too much for him and it would require we not have stairs.
Between us having stairs, front and back, and also $4,000 cash, which we didn't have at the time and considering his age, the vet said the best thing would be to put Sinbad asleep.
John, Michael and I were there holding Sinbad in our arms when he gently as he had lived his life, left this world.
I know he's in Heaven. He was such a sweet, kind good dog.
His ashes are still in our closet along with a few of our other furbabies.
Michael would have liked to be buried with Sinbad's ashes but he left so quickly and unexpectedly we're lucky to have remembered to include Zeus's ashes with him.
Sinbad will have to wait for another one of us to go. I hope it's either myself or John because I don't know if I could survive burying another one of our sons.
I'm still not over Michael's sudden departure.
Sinbad taught me that rescuing a older dog is easy as can be compared to a puppy. He came already housebroken, knowing commands, settled down, cooperative and mature.
Our three young sons wanted to pet him so I asked the man working there if he was friendly or was he the guard dog? The man said he was friendly and good with kids. I checked this big guy out and he seemed really gentle, quiet, and laid back. This dog looked at me with the kindest, wisest eyes I have ever seen on a dog. He also looked sad.
After just a couple moments of checking him out, the man came over and said his name was Sinbad. I gave the okay and our three boys rushed over to shower love and affection upon this big furry beast. My husband and I looked at the puppies, but none of them seemed right for us so we went back to fetch the boys to leave, when the man once again approached us and asked what we were looking for. I said the boys wanted a dog. The man said, "I've gotten a brand new, little dog and have to get rid of Sinbad. I've told him, he's going to the pound tomorrow."
I thought to myself, that sucks, here's a big, beautiful dog, evidently he's had him awhile and he's throwing him away like a thing.
Looking at the man I remember saying, "Ahhh don't tell me that. You and I know what they do to big older dogs at a pound." Man replied, "Well I have to move into an apartment and can't bring a big dog with." Sinbad was really looking at me now, pleading.
The boys were shouting, "Oh mom, he's perfect, he's so friendly. Can we take him home, please?" I asked, with baited breath, "is he potty broke?" The man said "yes, he's never gone in the house since he was a puppy." The man added, "he's free." Michael started begging with the other two chiming in.
Asking my husband "what do you think?" John replied, "He's really big but I guess if the kids want him."
I sighed and said, "Load him in the car." With that, Sinbad was like a shot and raced to the front door, with the boys running after him.
Once outside, Sinbad politely sat on the parking lot while the boys piled into our big LaManns. The three fit perfectly in the back seat but there was no room for this big furbaby. Sinbad continued to sit and waited to be told what to do. I asked the boys if Sinbad could ride home stretched across their laps and they were near hysteria by now saying, "Yes yes, come on boy." Sinbad waited though until I said, "It's okay, get up on their laps and lets go home."
Michael had told us that was one of the happiest days of his life. He was overjoyed when Sinbad jumped up and onto their laps. They were so happy riding home and I felt good rescuing a dog.
This was my introductory to dog (and later cat) rescue.
Our "free" dog ended up costing us over $400.00 because he had heartworms which required a treatment at the vets for several days. Not all dogs make it through this treatment but Sinbad did, thank the good Lord because by now the kids were really attached to him. Secretly I was too.
Once he came back home from the vet's we settled back into our regular routine. It did not take any adjusting, Sinbad, true to the man's word, was perfectly potty broke and was very good at letting us know if he needed something. At around supper time he would bring his empty bowl telling me he was hungry. He would also bring his water bowel if it was empty.
All the neighborhood kids came over to visit him. He had more friends than anyone else but at night, he would go lay in the laundry room the first two weeks. He missed his previous owner.
Sinbad made me realize that dogs have feelings just like people do. He clearly was depressed at night so I would go down and sit with him in the laundry room and talk to him. I told him that his other companion couldn't keep him but we would take good care of him and he would never have to worry about going to the pound and that we already loved him.
Eventually his depression lifted and he would bed hop. We gave him his heartworm pill religiously every month.
The only time we ever saw Sinbad get angry, was when there was a knock on our front door and my husband went down to see who was there. As my husband got to the door, Sinbad jumped up and ran, putting himself between the obnoxious teenager looking for Michael and my husband, John.
I'm thinking Sinbad smelled either a gun, fear or hate because never before or since has Sinbad ever bare his long teeth and growled, shaking the very windows.
This young man at our front door was sort of gangland looking and my husband said, "Michael is not going anywhere with you, we don't know you."
Sinbad kept growling. Again, this dog would allow kids to fall on him, pull on him, he was always so gentle. I had a ominous feeling that afternoon that this kid was trouble and Sinbad sensed John was in danger.
The kid left rather quickly as Sinbad was not going to budge.
John told me that he really believes Sinbad protected him.
Years later Michael admitted that person was indeed in a gang.
My other memories of Saint Sinbad, were when I would brush his fur and throw it out in the yard the birds would fight over it. When I brushed his fur in the winter I would bag it until spring.
The birds would swoop down and fight over Sinbad's soft fur for their nests.
I still have a small bag of Sinbad's fur.
The morning of March 13, 1997 I awoke and Sinbad wasn't in bed with us or any of the boys.
He was laying in the dining room and couldn't get up. John and Michael had to put a sheet under him and lift him that way. His back legs gave out. The vet said he had hip dysplasia and he was a older dog, surgery might be too much for him and it would require we not have stairs.
Between us having stairs, front and back, and also $4,000 cash, which we didn't have at the time and considering his age, the vet said the best thing would be to put Sinbad asleep.
John, Michael and I were there holding Sinbad in our arms when he gently as he had lived his life, left this world.
I know he's in Heaven. He was such a sweet, kind good dog.
His ashes are still in our closet along with a few of our other furbabies.
Michael would have liked to be buried with Sinbad's ashes but he left so quickly and unexpectedly we're lucky to have remembered to include Zeus's ashes with him.
Sinbad will have to wait for another one of us to go. I hope it's either myself or John because I don't know if I could survive burying another one of our sons.
I'm still not over Michael's sudden departure.
Sinbad taught me that rescuing a older dog is easy as can be compared to a puppy. He came already housebroken, knowing commands, settled down, cooperative and mature.
Our three sons kept begging for a dog so we set out to find a pet shop. Entering the first one we came across, there was a 92 pound dog laying on floor in the center of the room. Beautiful dog, part German Shepherd and part Husky.
Our three young sons wanted to pet him so I asked the man working there if he was friendly or was he the guard dog? The man said he was friendly and good with kids. I checked this big guy out and he seemed really gentle, quiet, and laid back. This dog looked at me with the kindest, wisest eyes I have ever seen on a dog. He also looked sad.
After just a couple moments of checking him out, the man came over and said his name was Sinbad. I gave the okay and our three boys rushed over to shower love and affection upon this big furry beast. My husband and I looked at the puppies, but none of them seemed right for us so we went back to fetch the boys to leave, when the man once again approached us and asked what we were looking for. I said the boys wanted a dog. The man said, "I've gotten a brand new, little dog and have to get rid of Sinbad. I've told him, he's going to the pound tomorrow."
I thought to myself, that sucks, here's a big, beautiful dog, evidently he's had him awhile and he's throwing him away like a thing.
Looking at the man I remember saying, "Ahhh don't tell me that. You and I know what they do to big older dogs at a pound." Man replied, "Well I have to move into an apartment and can't bring a big dog with." Sinbad was really looking at me now, pleading.
The boys were shouting, "Oh mom, he's perfect, he's so friendly. Can we take him home, please?" I asked, with baited breath, "is he potty broke?" The man said "yes, he's never gone in the house since he was a puppy." The man added, "he's free." Michael started begging with the other two chiming in.
Asking my husband "what do you think?" John replied, "He's really big but I guess if the kids want him."
I sighed and said, "Load him in the car." With that, Sinbad was like a shot and raced to the front door, with the boys running after him.
Once outside, Sinbad politely sat on the parking lot while the boys piled into our big LaManns. The three fit perfectly in the back seat but there was no room for this big furbaby. Sinbad continued to sit and waited to be told what to do. I asked the boys if Sinbad could ride home stretched across their laps and they were near hysteria by now saying, "Yes yes, come on boy." Sinbad waited though until I said, "It's okay, get up on their laps and lets go home."
Michael had told us that was one of the happiest days of his life. He was overjoyed when Sinbad jumped up and onto their laps. They were so happy riding home and I felt good rescuing a dog.
This was my introductory to dog (and later cat) rescue.
Our "free" dog ended up costing us over $400.00 because he had heartworms which required a treatment at the vets for several days. Not all dogs make it through this treatment but Sinbad did, thank the good Lord because by now the kids were really attached to him. Secretly I was too.
Once he came back home from the vet's we settled back into our regular routine. It did not take any adjusting, Sinbad, true to the man's word, was perfectly potty broke and was very good at letting us know if he needed something. At around supper time he would bring his empty bowl telling me he was hungry. He would also bring his water bowel if it was empty.
All the neighborhood kids came over to visit him. He had more friends than anyone else but at night, he would go lay in the laundry room the first two weeks. He missed his previous owner.
Sinbad made me realize that dogs have feelings just like people do. He clearly was depressed at night so I would go down and sit with him in the laundry room and talk to him. I told him that his other companion couldn't keep him but we would take good care of him and he would never have to worry about going to the pound and that we already loved him.
Eventually his depression lifted and he would bed hop. We gave him his heartworm pill religiously every month.
The only time we ever saw Sinbad get angry, was when there was a knock on our front door and my husband went down to see who was there. As my husband got to the door, Sinbad jumped up and ran, putting himself between the obnoxious teenager looking for Michael and my husband, John.
I'm thinking Sinbad smelled either a gun, fear or hate because never before or since has Sinbad ever bare his long teeth and growled, shaking the very windows.
This young man at our front door was sort of gangland looking and my husband said, "Michael is not going anywhere with you, we don't know you."
Sinbad kept growling. Again, this dog would allow kids to fall on him, pull on him, he was always so gentle. I had a ominous feeling that afternoon that this kid was trouble and Sinbad sensed John was in danger.
The kid left rather quickly as Sinbad was not going to budge.
John told me that he really believes Sinbad protected him.
Years later Michael admitted that person was indeed in a gang.
My other memories of Saint Sinbad, were when I would brush his fur and throw it out in the yard the birds would fight over it. When I brushed his fur in the winter I would bag it until spring.
The birds would swoop down and fight over Sinbad's soft fur for their nests.
I still have a small bag of Sinbad's fur.
The morning of March 13, 1997 I awoke and Sinbad wasn't in bed with us or any of the boys.
He was laying in the dining room and couldn't get up. John and Michael had to put a sheet under him and lift him that way. His back legs gave out. The vet said he had hip dysplasia and he was a older dog, surgery might be too much for him and it would require we not have stairs.
Between us having stairs, front and back, and also $4,000 cash, which we didn't have at the time and considering his age, the vet said the best thing would be to put Sinbad asleep.
John, Michael and I were there holding Sinbad in our arms when he gently as he had lived his life, left this world.
I know he's in Heaven. He was such a sweet, kind good dog.
His ashes are still in our closet along with a few of our other furbabies.
Michael would have liked to be buried with Sinbad's ashes but he left so quickly and unexpectedly we're lucky to have remembered to include Zeus's ashes with him.
Sinbad will have to wait for another one of us to go. I hope it's either myself or John because I don't know if I could survive burying another one of our sons.
I'm still not over Michael's sudden departure.
Sinbad taught me that rescuing a older dog is easy as can be compared to a puppy. He came already housebroken, knowing commands, settled down, cooperative and mature.
Our three young sons wanted to pet him so I asked the man working there if he was friendly or was he the guard dog? The man said he was friendly and good with kids. I checked this big guy out and he seemed really gentle, quiet, and laid back. This dog looked at me with the kindest, wisest eyes I have ever seen on a dog. He also looked sad.
After just a couple moments of checking him out, the man came over and said his name was Sinbad. I gave the okay and our three boys rushed over to shower love and affection upon this big furry beast. My husband and I looked at the puppies, but none of them seemed right for us so we went back to fetch the boys to leave, when the man once again approached us and asked what we were looking for. I said the boys wanted a dog. The man said, "I've gotten a brand new, little dog and have to get rid of Sinbad. I've told him, he's going to the pound tomorrow."
I thought to myself, that sucks, here's a big, beautiful dog, evidently he's had him awhile and he's throwing him away like a thing.
Looking at the man I remember saying, "Ahhh don't tell me that. You and I know what they do to big older dogs at a pound." Man replied, "Well I have to move into an apartment and can't bring a big dog with." Sinbad was really looking at me now, pleading.
The boys were shouting, "Oh mom, he's perfect, he's so friendly. Can we take him home, please?" I asked, with baited breath, "is he potty broke?" The man said "yes, he's never gone in the house since he was a puppy." The man added, "he's free." Michael started begging with the other two chiming in.
Asking my husband "what do you think?" John replied, "He's really big but I guess if the kids want him."
I sighed and said, "Load him in the car." With that, Sinbad was like a shot and raced to the front door, with the boys running after him.
Once outside, Sinbad politely sat on the parking lot while the boys piled into our big LaManns. The three fit perfectly in the back seat but there was no room for this big furbaby. Sinbad continued to sit and waited to be told what to do. I asked the boys if Sinbad could ride home stretched across their laps and they were near hysteria by now saying, "Yes yes, come on boy." Sinbad waited though until I said, "It's okay, get up on their laps and lets go home."
Michael had told us that was one of the happiest days of his life. He was overjoyed when Sinbad jumped up and onto their laps. They were so happy riding home and I felt good rescuing a dog.
This was my introductory to dog (and later cat) rescue.
Our "free" dog ended up costing us over $400.00 because he had heartworms which required a treatment at the vets for several days. Not all dogs make it through this treatment but Sinbad did, thank the good Lord because by now the kids were really attached to him. Secretly I was too.
Once he came back home from the vet's we settled back into our regular routine. It did not take any adjusting, Sinbad, true to the man's word, was perfectly potty broke and was very good at letting us know if he needed something. At around supper time he would bring his empty bowl telling me he was hungry. He would also bring his water bowel if it was empty.
All the neighborhood kids came over to visit him. He had more friends than anyone else but at night, he would go lay in the laundry room the first two weeks. He missed his previous owner.
Sinbad made me realize that dogs have feelings just like people do. He clearly was depressed at night so I would go down and sit with him in the laundry room and talk to him. I told him that his other companion couldn't keep him but we would take good care of him and he would never have to worry about going to the pound and that we already loved him.
Eventually his depression lifted and he would bed hop. We gave him his heartworm pill religiously every month.
The only time we ever saw Sinbad get angry, was when there was a knock on our front door and my husband went down to see who was there. As my husband got to the door, Sinbad jumped up and ran, putting himself between the obnoxious teenager looking for Michael and my husband, John.
I'm thinking Sinbad smelled either a gun, fear or hate because never before or since has Sinbad ever bare his long teeth and growled, shaking the very windows.
This young man at our front door was sort of gangland looking and my husband said, "Michael is not going anywhere with you, we don't know you."
Sinbad kept growling. Again, this dog would allow kids to fall on him, pull on him, he was always so gentle. I had a ominous feeling that afternoon that this kid was trouble and Sinbad sensed John was in danger.
The kid left rather quickly as Sinbad was not going to budge.
John told me that he really believes Sinbad protected him.
Years later Michael admitted that person was indeed in a gang.
My other memories of Saint Sinbad, were when I would brush his fur and throw it out in the yard the birds would fight over it. When I brushed his fur in the winter I would bag it until spring.
The birds would swoop down and fight over Sinbad's soft fur for their nests.
I still have a small bag of Sinbad's fur.
The morning of March 13, 1997 I awoke and Sinbad wasn't in bed with us or any of the boys.
He was laying in the dining room and couldn't get up. John and Michael had to put a sheet under him and lift him that way. His back legs gave out. The vet said he had hip dysplasia and he was a older dog, surgery might be too much for him and it would require we not have stairs.
Between us having stairs, front and back, and also $4,000 cash, which we didn't have at the time and considering his age, the vet said the best thing would be to put Sinbad asleep.
John, Michael and I were there holding Sinbad in our arms when he gently as he had lived his life, left this world.
I know he's in Heaven. He was such a sweet, kind good dog.
His ashes are still in our closet along with a few of our other furbabies.
Michael would have liked to be buried with Sinbad's ashes but he left so quickly and unexpectedly we're lucky to have remembered to include Zeus's ashes with him.
Sinbad will have to wait for another one of us to go. I hope it's either myself or John because I don't know if I could survive burying another one of our sons.
I'm still not over Michael's sudden departure.
Sinbad taught me that rescuing a older dog is easy as can be compared to a puppy. He came already housebroken, knowing commands, settled down, cooperative and mature.
