Monika Turkiewicz

Bobbie who walked 2500 miles in 6 months across America to find his family

In August 1923, a two-year-old collie named Bobbie was separated from his family during a road trip in Wolcott, Indiana. After days of searching and newspaper ads brought no answers, the Brazier family returned to their home in Silverton, Oregon, believing they had lost him forever. Six months later, a thin and injured dog appeared in Silverton with worn-down nails and battered paws.

Against all odds, Bobbie had traveled roughly 2,500 miles on his own to find his way back home.

Millie - First Dog of US

“In 1992, President George H.W. Bush's English Springer Spaniel, Millie, became famously overweight, so much so that the president reportedly sent a light-hearted memo to White House staff about her expanding waistline. Millie's weight gain became part of the public's affection for the First Dog, highlighting both the challenges and humor of pet care even at the highest levels of office.”

If only Millie's owner knew of 99 k challenge 😜

See photos- Kiki’s face looks like Millie’s 😊

Thank you ❤️

Thank you so much to anyone who decided to support us so far. 

A beautiful story about Barnaby ❤️

"Ma'am, you don't want Cage 4. He's enormous, nine years old, and can barely stand. You wouldn't be adopting a pet. You'd be adopting a goodbye."

I signed my name anyway.

"I'm seventy-three," I said, taking the leash.

"I've been counted out before."

That was the day Barnaby entered my life.

Barnaby is an Irish Wolfhound—really a gentle giant sewn together from gray, worn-out years. He weighs nearly as much as a grown man and smells of damp air and forgotten winters. When he walks, the floor answers him-thump, scrape, thump-as if even the building knows he's tired.

My son Mark, a lawyer who trusts rules more than instinct, panicked when he saw Barnaby stretched across the bookstore floor.

"This is a disaster," he whispered. "What if he bites someone? What if he collapses?"

"Barnaby doesn't bite," I said. "He listens."

For two weeks, Barnaby barely moved. At night, doubt crept in. Maybe loving this late only invited grief.

Then came Tuesday Morning Book Club.

A young boy named Leo tripped beside Barnaby. He stutters. Anxiety shakes his whole body. Barnaby lifted his massive head, sighed deeply, and rested his chin on the boy's leg.

Leo reached out. The shaking stopped.

"He likes me," Leo said.

"He loves you," I replied.

Leo read to him-slowly, imperfectly.

Barnaby listened without impatience.

Without judgment.

From then on, everything changed.

People sat beside Barnaby and told him things they'd never say aloud. They called his rug the Confessional. Tears fell into gray fur. Silence healed what words couldn't.

Once, a man complained. "Why care for something that won't last?"

"Because," I said, "life isn't measured by how long it stretches. It's measured by how much love it can hold."

Barnaby rises slowly now. His medicine is expensive. His time is short.

But every morning, he waits by the door, offering people permission-to slow down, to breathe, to be enough.

We are all walking each other home.

Some of us just have fur, four legs, and less time.

Love does not expire.

And sometimes, the oldest hearts know exactly how to hold yours.

Why…

Because she is my friend, my healer, my baby, my everything. I love spending time with her. She was with me throughout the darkest time of my life, when I tragically lost my son John in a car accident. She rushes for cuddles any time I am in pieces. I survived because of her and now I want to help other dogs to find their humans. And hopefully another dog will help his human to survive hard times 🙏