9. Rescue animal

The RSPCA inspector said you could see George's ribs when he found him. Ribs that the next door neighbour had seen being kicked repeatedly by the drunken, knuckle scraping, hillbilly shithead that purportedly looked after George. 'Big Ron' they call him. 

George was incredibly shy and withdrawn when we met him and brought him into our home. He hid behind our sofa for an entire month and would barely come out for food. I had to leave the bowl next to the sofa and leave the room before he would eat and quickly retreat back into his shell. When I tried to stroke him he would cower away from me and whimper in the corner. I'm sure he still sometimes sees the drunken hand of neglect striking him, night after night.

I gradually moved the bowl further and further away from the sofa, enticing George to come out into the room. Eventually, after 4 months he ate his food with me in the room and we started to bond. Now, his black fur shines and he looks like a perfectly healthy labrador. He sits on the sofa and watches TV with us now, and even jumps on our bed in the mornings. I’m so happy George is with us, as he so nearly wasn’t.