Kristen S Kuhns [ksk]

  City of Birth:
Worthington, Ohio

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It Has Been A Rough Year

I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome.  I wish ...


The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins

The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.   http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp other-2-prayer-re ml


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Kristen's Story > Categories > Doggies

"Taking a scruff ball home" 


Date Range: 01/01/1991 To 06/21/2005   Comments: 0   Views: 25,133
Attachments: Yes [7 Images]

What can I say about Pierre, aka Grumpy Old Man? During my early adult years, there were two words that went together. Kristen & Pierre. An incongruous couple. A pair of misfits against the world (well ok not really but was fun to believe so).

What can you say for a dog that's yours? That's really and truly yours? What can you say for a creature who gives himself up willingly and wholly to a human and asks for so little in return?

This little guy was a butthead. There is no doubt that he definitely was my dog to the point of annoyance to other people. He was with me through all of my early adult years. I had Pierre 14 years. He left with a lurch and did I grieve. Oh I grieved. Deep, wrenching, ocean-breaking grief.

There was a spot I'd kiss right below his little chin. It smelled like Pierre and was soft. He smelled like no other dog. Pierre was mine; we were bound together.

When an animal dies, I do not believe that love is lost. It changes form, dimensions, lives, whatever. But love cannot evaporate. It doesn't make logical sense. I am nothing if not logical and efficient, but my love for animals, especially dogs, is boundless and perhaps defies logic.

Pierre was a total scruffmuffin when my roommate in college, beautiful girl named Anastasia, discovered him. She had a really cute but slightly annoying Pomeranian named Ira who liked to leave little presents for me outside my door. My rooommate used to walk her dog and when they went down the stairs and out the back door, her Pom would bark at the neighbor's porch.

She looked inside and there was a little doggie in there! This being Cleveland - it was cold out. So she knocked on the door and asked if she could bring this dog up to play with hers. She brought this little white furball up to our apartment.

His eyes were bored, unseeing almost, and he'd sunk back into himself and had seemingly given up on the world. We give him a bath and a haircut, and kept him for about 3 days. At the end of the third day, he started just barely to come out of his shell and show some signs of a personality.

We chatted with the young couple who owned him. They were really nice, well meaning people but the woman had just had a baby six months earlier and they had a 2 year old. The husband was working two jobs so they could save up some money to buy a house. For a gift of birthday or anniversary or the like, he bought his wife a puppy. A PUPPY! with a 6month old and two year old! What were they thinking??

Anyway, long story short, he was being neglected and it was luck that the Pom Ira sniffed out one of her own kind because Pierre had never made a sound.

The next weekend I came home late Friday night after going out at university and knew that the family had taken off for the weekend. Out of curiosity I looked into the porch, and there was Pierre! Alone and just sitting there. He barely looked up when I rapped on the window. He had no water and there was dookie on the floor.

I broke in and took him and kept him ever since that day. The neighbors protested meekly but I think were relieved. I kept this little guy by my side through my college graduation, boyfriends, first real job & many jobs after that, my first car, my first 401k, losses & disappointments, meeting my S.O., moving to California.

He was named Pierre by the breeders (don't get me started on that topic) and had a brother Pee Wee (and that's a story for another day). I kept his name Pierre because I figured he'd been through enough - an identity crisis on top of it all would be too much ;)

Kristen and Pierre. What can I say about such a thing...
"Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really."
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull ...

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