My Princess Named Sofia Essay

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After seeing that innocent Pug face looking up at me through the dirty, black bars of the small beaten kennel, I knew she was coming home with me. It was a chilly winter day and I had no intentions of bringing a dog home on my lap, but after seeing her bleak expression and the sadness engulfed in her eyes, I had no choice but to scoop the underweight Pug under my arm, and she was officially mine. I don’t regret any of it for a second, for Princess Sofia is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. The day I got her wasn’t like getting a new pair of shoes, more like a new family member to give a place at the table on Thanksgiving. I couldn’t wait to have my very own dog, one to call my own. It was a few days before my birthday, and the animal rescue my grandfather worked for was teaming up with another animal rescue out of Black Forest to save a few hundred puppy mill dogs that had been abused. A puppy mill is a place where they breed dogs over and over until the female cannot produce puppies anymore. As the females become 'useless', many puppy mills take desperate measures to make room for the female dogs that can produce puppies. Luckily, Theresa, the owner of the National Puppy Mill Rescue, was there to take away about three hundred dogs. She took many volunteers, and rounded up all the dogs and brought them back to Colorado, where they could adopt them out to happy families. My dog was a female pug, about three years old. Her story was that they were planning to euthanize her to make room for other dogs. Thank God for people like her to save helpless animals who deserve a second chance. As we walked into the gates of the vast yard, the sound of yipping puppies and their annoyed mothers could be heard. The faint smell of Dial could be smelt; most likely the bathing station where Theresa had set up for the new dogs that had come in. My

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