In August of 2001, I had hit a low point in my life. My fur was long and dirty. My nails curled under my paws. I was living at the Pound in Pensacola, Florida.
I had gone outside to get a bit of sun when I felt this strong pull to reenter the building. Standing on the other side of my jail was the girl they call Shalon. She kept pointing at me and saying the name Sammy.
I didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't my name because she looked so happy. As it turned out the girl called Shalon was to instigate a jail break that same day. Some how she was able to put the guards under her power and I was freed. I was taken to an apartment. I was bathed, my hair was cut and my nails were clipped. The strangest thing of all was that I was given the name Moco.
One day the girl called Shalon came to me and said, "Moco we have to move. We are going to take you to Oregon." They packed me into a carrier and we drove across the country. It is a long trip from Florida to Oregon in a small car with 2 adults and a small child. I had to be smuggled into sleeping establishments like a common criminal.
When we finally got to Oregon I was allowed out of the carrier to enter a house. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a big red haired guy sitting in a chair. I climbed into his lap and that is where I have been for the last 7seven years.
The picture above was taken in '05 when there was only myself and my best friend Clara living with Pappy and Grammie. You can see Clara's backside in the right lower corner.