Sheeka's story

Paula Wilson and I picked Sheeka up with the intention of only fostering her. She was covered in coal dust because she had been kept in the coal bunker. She had lots of fleas which promptly made themselves at home in my car. She had a healing wound on her neck from where a collar, rope or choke chain had cut into it. She had an absolute terror of men (she bit the vet as soon as he went near her!) and she had the most beautiful brown and sad looking eyes that I had seen in a long time.

Sheeka came home and was assessed and made ready for adoption but being 10 years old no one really showed an interest in her so here she stayed. I can honestly say that all the folk who passed up on the chance of her, lost out. I became the winner in this situation.

She was the most loving dog, who, if she could, would have climbed inside your skin to be closer to you. She woo wooed in a high pitch squeal earning her the name Sheeka the shreiker. She wandered around my kennel growling at the rest of the pack and muttering to herself. Now, had any of my other dogs even tried this, my pack leader Boo would have had them upside down and sitting on them in jig time. But not Sheeka. It was as if everyone made exceptions for her. Allowed her little eccentricities. She was my little old lady dog. I am so glad that I kept her and she spent the last few months of her life away from the pack, pottering about the house and garden, chasing imaginary fairies, sleeping on the porch in the sun, coming into the house to wee-wee and going back out to play. My eccentric old lady. She now rests on my window sill in a beautiful box with her name engraved in it, forever looking out at the garden. The stories I could tell about Sheeka are innumerable and I would have missed all of these escapades had I decided that she had to move on from my foster home.

God bless Sheeka.