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Here are a few stories that will touch your heart, make tears come to your eyes or make you proud of the animals or owners! *NOTE: NONE OF THESE STORIES WERE EDITED OR CREATED BY THE HOME SWEET HOME GROUP*

^This is BENJI^ According to the AHA (American Humane Association), between three and five million pets die in shelters every year because awareness of shelters as a resource and of shelter animals as potentially wonderful pets, is very low. Fewer than 20% of all animals entering homes for the first time come from shelters. And most shelters and rescue organizations do not have resources to promote such recognition. In an effort to reverse these statistics, Joe Camp, Benji and AHA will be working together to build awareness of how wonderful shelter pet adoption can be for children, families and the pets themselves.

Both Camp and AHA point to the recent search for the new Benji as an example of how homeless animals make great pets. On September 28, 2001, the floppy-eared mutt who was to become the new Benji was on the back streets of Pass Christian, Mississippi, lost and alone, with no tag or collar, abandoned. This homeless stray was picked up by Harrison County Animal Control and brought to the Humane Society of South Mississippi in Gulfport, from where she was adopted by Camp on November 15 as one of three finalists in a national shelter search. She rose to the challenge and three weeks later became the new Benji. “Can you believe that someone abandoned these eyes,” says Camp, peering into the new star’s face. “I can’t.” The new Benji is believed to be less than a year old.

Dennis Sodomka is the executive editor of The Augusta Chronicle writes this:

"I wish we lived in a world where people didn't shoot each other, where no one broke the law and where our county government didn't have to kill more than 10,000 animals a year. (It jumps to more than 13,000 when you include Columbia County.) But those bad things do happen, and it's the job of your newspaper to tell you about them so you can decide if you want to do anything about that.
Sometimes people misunderstand our motives when we write stories. They think we're trying to ``get'' someone, or to prove some kind of point. All we're trying to do is show you some things we think are important about your world. Each of our readers has to decide if those things are good or bad, or even if they matter.
If all we did was write about things that don't matter much in your life, you would stop reading the newspaper. So, maybe in that sense, we are trying to provoke you a little. We would like you to care about the things we cover, probably even care enough to take some action to fix the problems you read about.
In the case of the animal control shelters, I wouldn't be presumptuous enough to try to assess blame for this sad situation. Certainly it is not the fault of the shelters or the workers that dogs and cats have to be killed. But the fact that they have to be killed is an abomination.
We could pretend that doesn't happen. Or we could hide the story in the back of the paper, or run cute, cuddly animal photos that wouldn't upset people. But in the real world, dozens of animals have to be killed every day, and we believe this is something you ought to be concerned about.
Some people who know me think I don't like animals because I don't treat them like they're people. I don't think you ought to dress them up, talk cute to them or pretend they have human characteristics. But I love animals, especially dogs, and it hurts me to think about all those poor animals who are killed every day because we're too busy or too insensitive to take care of them before they become problems.
It was difficult for me to look at our photos and read our stories, and I hope they make you uncomfortable. You should have seen the photos we decided not to publish. They really would have ripped your heart out. This is real life, but sometimes real life is too graphic for a family newspaper.
I hope the stories and photos bother you enough to do something about this situation. If you have a dog or a cat, get it spayed or neutered. Don't let it run around freely. Don't abandon it when you get tired of taking care of it.
This is another of those problems that don't have a government solution. It is up to each of us to take personal responsibility for our pets so they or their offspring don't end up in the shelter. Don't turn away from the situation because it is unsettling. Do something about it.

I can still recall vividly, the first time I laid eyes on Tina. She was displayed with the small dogs for adoption at the CACC. She sat in a small cage with that special canine "smile" that is so apparent in certain breeds and types. She was very oblivious to her special predicament at the time. Little did she seem to know that she was in a crowded animal shelter and her days could well be "numbered."
Upon seeing this little cutie, I said to Cindy (who at that time was the rescue coordinator for CACC), "Wow, what an adorable dog!" While I was absolutely certain such a pretty petite canine would quickly get adopted, I said to Cindy, "If for any reason that dog doesn't get adopted, put our name on her. We will take her."
Over the next couple of weeks, I made several trips to CACC to pick up cats for rescue. I kept seeing the adorable little dog, still smiling in the adoption cage. I couldn't believe this cheerful, beautiful pooch hadn't been grabbed up already, but was confident she soon would be.
Then one day, the inevitable phone call. It was Cindy on the line: "Hey, Patty, you know that little dog that you put the memo on?" "You better come get her. She needs to get out."
I was amazed and stupefied. That little beauty didn't get adopted? Without any hesitation but, no place really to put the dog at that moment, I nevertheless said to Cindy, "I will be right there."
The little dog had an obvious case of kennel cough from being in the shelter more than two weeks. In between the smiles, she coughed and choked rather hard on the way home. For no special reason I immediately named the little reddish blonde stray, "Tina." She just looked like a "Tina" to me.
Although she was little, I was amazed at the power and strength of this petite dog. Tina obviously had never had leash training and somehow managed to pull me all the way home. She was like a sled dog on a mission through the arctic!
Due to her kennel cough, we couldn't put Tina up for adoption immediately or spay her. She needed to be treated for and get over the condition. Following a trip to the vet, I figured to foster care Tina for a period of several weeks. After recovery, she would need to be spayed.
Tina was good with cats and good with my older dog, Fawn who was then suffering from arthritis and had slowed down significantly in the past few years.
However, Tina was absolutely untrained in all other ways.
She did not understand any commands at all. When I said, "Sit," she jumped. When I said, "Stay," she ran. When I said, "No," she laughed. Worst of all, Tina wasn't housebroken. Every accident resulted in a "no" from me, and an endearing smile from her. I began to realize that this seemingly incorrigible dog was going to require more than just a few "weeks" of fostering.
And then of course there were the walks with this little 15lb dog. They weren't "walks" at all.
I am not a runner, but soon learned to be one with Tina. Every walk was a mini marathon. A mission through the Alaska wilderness. Tina put her head down and forward as if gearing up for the Iditatrod. My choice was either to run with her or be dragged unceremoniously through the "Alps." I could feel passerby's eyes on me in sympathy or in jest.
Those times I walked Tina and Fawn together were particularly trying. Tina pulling forward and poor elderly Fawn barely walking due to the crippling affliction that was making every step painful. The various medications for Fawn's deteriorating condition seemed no longer to be working.
Several months passed and I was eventually forced to make the painful decision to have my beloved Fawn put to sleep. She could no longer navigate the stairs in my building nor walk a full block. The final trip to the vet was one of the darkest days of my life.
And for the first time, I could not see that familiar smile on Tina's face on my return home. She simply came over to me, nuzzled her head in my lap and seemed to mourn with me, Fawn's loss.
And although we still had Tina advertised for adoption, I knew in that moment, that I had no real intention of adopting out this little bundle of now very needy comfort to me.
The next day Tina was pulled from our dogs for adoptions page, as she was now adopted.
That was more than two years ago.....
Today, Tina is finally housebroken, responds to one or two commands (when she is in the mood)! And is always by my side. She however, still jumps when I say, "sit" and still imagines herself preparing for the Idititrod when taken for a "walk." She loves to run in the park with other dogs and is virtually a little fireball of energy while in flight. It seems those little legs of hers don't even touch the ground when she runs! She flies!
I imagine now that her original owners simply lost her somewhere when making the mistake of allowing Tina to run off leash in open space. To this day, I cannot always trust her off leash. Obviously a "herding" type of dog, Tina loves to chase squirrels, balls or anything that moves. She is seemingly deaf when on a run. She is licensed and tagged and I am extremely careful about where and when she can run. She is an independent, free running little spirit and I have no desire to see that change. Fortunately for me, the one command she now responds to is "stay."
Tina has taught me much about dogs that I did not realize. She has taught me that a small dog can sometimes be more energetic and require more exercise than a large dog. She taught me small dogs can pull. Sometimes more than a 100 LB Rottweiler! She taught me that while a well trained dog can be a source of personal pride, a free independent spirit can bring more smiles and laughs (if not just a tad of exasperation)!
Tina is finally and most importantly, a loving, devoted little dog, who tragically like so many other wonderful animals ended up in the pound and might well have been euthanized -- except for the fact that at the very moment I saw Tina, (though I didn't realize it at the time) I fell in love with her......
~Patty Adjamine

Recently we were called to a pet shop in Essex. The owner had gone bankrupt and had vacated the premises a couple of weeks previously, leaving 150 animals including kittens, rabbits and rodents in the empty shop and yard. A frantic neighbour contacted us as none of the animals appeared to have had food or water for a long period. After we had gained access through the Environmental Health Department, we found that several of the animals had already starved to death.
We had to put four rabbits to sleep as they were barely alive and beyond help. The rabbits, in particular, had many health problems, including eye infections and chronic abscesses, having been kept in small hutches for breeding purposes. We rescued all the remaining animals and after intensive veterinary care, most have been rehomed although we still have a few rabbits and gerbils awaiting new homes.

I know this story has almost nothing to do with our site but its kinda scary if you think about it happening to your dog. Im sorry there was no picture to go along with it.

A dog roamed for 12 days with its head stuck in a jar of pickled pigs' trotters because no one could catch the poor pooch to take it off.
"It was pretty bad.....the most bizarre thing I've ever seen," said Deputy Mike Brown.
The head of the mongrel was almost bald by the time it was finally freed from the empty plastic jar after nearly two weeks.
It had gone 12 days without food or water, roaming around McIntosh in Alabama, a rural area where people often dump unwanted pets.
A local vet said the dog only survived so long without water by getting moisture from condensation forming inside the jar.
A community effort was launched to try to catch the dog after it was spotted running around, frightened and disorientated with the jar on its head.
Locals tried coaxing and capturing the terrified dog but it always managed to run off. A fishermen's net was used but the handle snapped and the dog again escaped.
Neighbours got close enough to hit the jar with a stick and a piece of iron but the jar remained intact and the dog fled again.
Eventually they called in Deputy Brown from the Sheriff's Department, the Mobile Register reports. Local children helped him track down the dog - and he rugby-tackled the hound as it ran past him.
When Deputy Brown finally caught the dog it bounded away and began scratching its head. "The jar contained a lot of hair and sweat," Brown said.

Prince and the card above the bed from: "James Herriot's Favorite Dog Stories"

The card dangled over the old lady's bed. It read "GOD IS NEAR" but it wasnt the usual religios text. It didnt have a frame or ordanite printing. It was just a strip of cardboard about 8 inches long with plain lettering which might have said "no smoking" or "Exit" and was looped carelessly over and old brass gas bracket so that Miss Stubbs from where she lay could look up at it and read GOD IS NEAR in square black capitals.

There wasn't more Miss Stubbs could see; peraps a few feet of privet hedge through the frayed curtains but mainly it was just the cluttered little room which has been in her world for so many years.

The room was on the ground floor and in the front of the cottage, and as I came up through the wilderness which had once been a garden I could see the dogs watching me from where they had jumped onto the old lady's bed by the window. And when I knocked on the door the place almost erupted with their barking. It was always like this. I had been visiting regularly for over a year and the pattern never changed; the furious barking, then Mrs. Broadwith, who looked after Miss Stubbs, would push all the animals but my patient into the back kitchen and I open the door and go in to see Miss Stubbs in the corner in her bed with the card hanging over it.

She had been there for a long time and would never get up again. But she never mentioned her illness and pain to me; all her concern was for her 3 dogs and 2 cats.

Today it was old prince and I was worried about his heart-just about the most spectacular valvular incompitence I have ever heard. He was waiting for me as I came in, pleased to see me, his long tail waving gently.

The sight of the tail meade me think that there was alot of Irish setter in Prince but I was inclined to change my mind as I worked my way forward over the bulgy black and brown body to the shaggy head and upstanding Alsatian-type ears.

"I thought I'd best give you a call Mr. Herriot," Mrs. Broadwith said. She was an elderly widow with a square, ruddy face. "He's been coughing right bad this week and this morning he was a bit staggery. Still eats well though."

"I bet he does." I ran my hands over the rolls of fat on the rib. "It would take something really dirastic to put old prince off his grub."

Miss Stubbs laughed from the bed and the old dog, eyes dancing, seemed to be joining in the joke. I put my stethoscope over his heart and listened, knowing well what I was going to hear. They seay the heart is supposed to go "Lub-dup, lub-dup" but Prince's heart went "swish-swoosh, swish-swoosh" There seemed to be as much blood leaking back as was being pumped into his system.

Gloomily I moved the stethoscope over the rest of the chest. Like all old dogs who have a chronic heart weakness he had an ever-present bronchitis. The old dog stood very erect and proud, his tail still waving slowly. He always took it as a tremendous complement when I examined him and there was no doubt he was enjoying himself now.

Straightening up, I patted his head, and he responded immediately by trying to put his paws on my chest. He didn't quite make it and even that slight exertion started his ribs heaving and his tounge lolling. I gave him an intramuscular injection of digitalin and another of morphine hydrochloride, which he accepted as part of the game.

"I hope that will steady his heart and breathing, Miss Stubbs. You'll findhe'll be a bit dopey for the day and that will help, too. Carry on with the tablets as before, and I'm going to leave you some more medicine for his bronchitis."

The next stage of the visit began nowas Mrs. Broadwith brought in a cup of tea and the rest of the animals were let out of the kitchen. There were Ben, a Sealyham, and Sally, a cocker spaniel, and they started a deafening barking contest with Prince. They were closely followed by the cats, Arthur and Susie, who stalked in gracefully and began to rub themselves against my trouser legs.

"How are you today?" I asked.

"Oh much better," She replied and immediately, as always, changed the subject.

And, sitting there, drinking, my tea, with the dogs in a row by the bedside and the cats making themselves comfortable on the bed itself, I felt as I had often felt before - a bit afraid of the responsibility I had. The one thing which brought some light into the life of the brave old woman was the transparent devotion of this shaggy bunch who's eyes were never far from her face. And the snag was that they were all elderly.

They were perky enough but all showing some of the signs of old age; Prince with his heart, Sally beginning to drink alot of water which mad e me wonder if her kidneys were giving trouble; Ben growing steadily thinner with his nephritis. Another peculiar thing about Ben was that I was always having to clip his claws; they grew at an extraordinary rate.

Aurthur was the best of the bunch; he never seemed to attract anything beyond a tendency for his teeth to attract tartar.

To be continued....