I didn't have a name for most of my life.
I was a stray.
My time was spent surviving.
Winters were cold and long.
Summers felt good.
Rarely did I have enough to eat, but I kept going, scavenging for whatever I could.
Some time ago, I was hit by a car.  My back and hips never stopped hurting.
Most of the time, I was by myself.
One day I was picked up.
I was given food and put in a crate.
Lots of people smiled at me, some people cried.
I wagged my tail and rested my head.
I was given a warm bed.
I was hugged.
I was fed until I couldn't eat anymore.
I was named Frank.
I loved it.
I am glad I got to know tenderness, safety and love.
The kind people who helped me gave me the greatest gift possible.
With them I experienced happiness.
I was too tired and sick to stay with them long, but they meant the world to me.

We need foster homes to save dogs like Frank.