Not every dog gets his portrait done in oil paint, or becomes the subject of a seven foot long mural.
Hi my name is Jack! I’m nine years old. I’ve been living with my human family since they adopted me five and a half years ago through the rescue efforts of the Pembroke Welsh Corgi Club of the Potomac. When Mom, Dad, and their human daughter Sarah came to see me, I immediately rolled over and gave them my tummy. Mom said it was love at first tummy rub.
Mom and Dad particularly like the white patch on the back of my neck. Humans: go figure!
I had never played ball before coming to my new home, but being a Corgi, I caught on very quickly.
The orange football is my favorite toy. Dad says I’m a real guy’s guy because I love footfall.
Coming from Virginia Beach and relocating with my new family to the Maryland suburbs of Washington, D.C., I had to get used to a couple of inches of snow every Winter. But nothing was like the Snowmageddon we had in the Winter of 2010.
What’s a short dog to do when the snow is piled several feet above his head?
I love living with my family. They take me on trips, let me sleep on the bed, and give me lots of long walks and cuddles.
I’m even the inspiration for much of Mom’s art.
Lately, Mom has been rather sad. She took me to a specialist, a nice man who fed me tasty doggie cookies and told her that the cancer on my tongue is inoperable and there was nothing that could be done. She cried, but frankly I was relieved. What dog wants to have half his tongue removed anyway? Right now I’m feeling just fine. And like a smart Corgi, I’m living in the moment, taking it one day at a time. And I’m teaching my human family to do the same.
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Corgi On, Jack!