Dearest Summer asked how Maggie came to be with me. It is an endearing tale of a forlorn dog's luck. My father would walk everyday out at the rest area on the interstate. One day, he passed by a dumpster and heard a dog whining. He looked in and a puppy was sitting in the stifling heat of July amidst the trash. Someone had thrown a puppy into that dumpster to rid themselves of her. He rescued her and brought her to me. My mother named her Maggie and she quickly warmed our hearts. Maggie was in bad shape when I got her though. She was eaten up with fleas and her fur was matted and dirty. It took a three hundred dollar veterinarian bill to whip her into shape. "That dog won the Georgia lottery when he got y'all as owners," my veterinarian would jokingly say in a heavy Southern accent to my mother one day.
Writing this makes me want to go find Maggie and love on her some. I am so blessed to have her in my life.