Your Pet's Rescue Story
When I lost my first dog, Allie, I didn't think I'd ever love a dog again the way I had loved her. I loved my other dogs dearly, but I described Allie as the "dog of my heart" and having loved her so much, I just didn't think it was possible to feel that again. I was okay if I never experienced that kind of bond again because I knew how lucky I was to have it the first time.

A few years later I found myself meeting a tiny 3lb shih tzu mix named Biffy at Animal Compassion Team of Fresno. He was the tiniest thing I had ever seen, but more than that, he was fragile. He was 3lbs of skin, bones, scabs, and dirt. He was estimated to be about 8 years old and had been transferred to ACT because the local shelter was afraid that he would get inadvertently hurt by one of their smaller dogs. When I sat down, he jumped on my lap, Army crawled up my chest, tilted his head and looked at me and I knew he was going to be my pup. I named him Gizmo that day.

Gizmo has been my tiny miracle for the last 3 years. He was so terrified of everything at first, but he wanted so badly to please me that every day I watched him try to be a good, brave dog, even when what I asked him to do (like walk across a tile floor) scared him.

He now weighs a healthy 4.5lbs, has a beautiful, healthy coat, is boss over the chihuahuas, loves all people (including children) and is regularly referred to as the Wild Man.

He makes me laugh every day and nothing he does ever gets old: whether he's rolling around in any St. Augustine grass he can find on our morning walks, sitting on my chest telling me it's time to get up, or playing fetch (well...Gizmo's version of fetch, which basically means I throw a stuffed animal, he gets it, and then runs away) Gizmo is JOY in a dog's body.

Gizmo has taught me that our hearts have an infinite capacity to love. Although losing Allie left a hole in my heart, Gizmo has shown me that love always lets our hearts expand, holes and all. We never replace those we've lost, but we can be open to new loves that are just as big, and just as fierce. When my dad died, Gizmo was right beside me, as close as he could get, comforting me as best he could: with tiny Gizmo kisses.

The joy and fearlessness that define Gizmo now are reminders to everyone to be in the moment, be thankful for each day, and to approach the world expecting the best. I thank God for my sweet Gizmo every day: for the joy and laughter he brings me and for showing me that there is no limit to love .