Sandra Thompson-Drew

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Sandra Thompson-Drew

Sandra Thompson-Drew

@SandraWThompson

Honorary Scot, avid foodie and rugby fan. Believer that everything is possible in life. All views are my own.

London, England Katılım Mart 2010
4.7K Takip Edilen3.1K Takipçiler
Sandra Thompson-Drew
Sandra Thompson-Drew@SandraWThompson·
On day 2,151 of a. Elated #BeThankful, I’m thankful for a super Easter dinner at the Chapel Cafe in Port Isaac
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Sandra Thompson-Drew
Sandra Thompson-Drew@SandraWThompson·
On day 2,141 of a belated #BeThankful, I’m thankful for a lovely evening with a friend and colleague
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The Husky
The Husky@Mr_Husky1·
Last night, my wife sent me a text that instantly put me on edge: “Don’t get upset when you get home… there’s someone in the kitchen.” I had just finished practice. I knew she wasn’t home. My mind immediately jumped to the worst. Another animal. Something random. Something I wasn’t ready for. And I’ll be honest, I was already irritated before I even got in the car. So I didn’t go straight home. I drove around for a bit, trying to cool off, preparing myself. I figured it was going to be something chaotic. Maybe a goat. Maybe something worse. My wife has a way of seeing an animal and deciding it belongs with us. By the time I finally pulled into the driveway, I had already built up the frustration in my head. I opened the door.And everything I thought I was going to feel… disappeared. Standing in the kitchen was a Great Dane. But not the kind you picture.She was painfully thin. Her ribs showed through her skin. Her hips stuck out sharply. Her coat was dull, her body carried that heavy, neglected smell, and her legs looked like they were holding up more than they should have had to. Her name, I would soon learn, was Darla. She didn’t bark.Didn’t run. Didn’t even really move.She just stood there, quiet, watching me with eyes that looked tired in a way that’s hard to explain. Not aggressive. Not even scared in the usual way. Just… worn down. Like she had already learned not to expect much from people. The anger I walked in with vanished in seconds. I grabbed a bowl, filled it with water, and set it down. She didn’t rush. She didn’t get excited. She just walked over slowly and drank like it was the only thing that mattered. Then I gave her food. And the way she ate… it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t joy. It was survival. Careful at first, then faster, like she didn’t know if it might disappear. I stood there watching, feeling something shift inside me. After that, I called my wife. She told me how she found Darla wandering, how she couldn’t just leave her there, how no one had come forward to claim her.And then came the part that stuck with me.This dog hadn’t just gotten lost. She had been left. Left to fade. Left to survive however she could. And I won’t sugarcoat it. There are people in this world who should never be trusted with something that depends on them. Because what Darla had gone through wasn’t an accident. It was neglect. Plain and simple. But standing there in my kitchen, watching her slowly finish her food, I realized something else. That part of her story was over. From that moment on, things were going to be different. The next few days weren’t easy.Her body was weak. She tired quickly. Every movement looked like effort. But she stayed close. Always watching. Always quiet. Like she was trying to understand if this place was real. We took her to the vet. Got her checked. Started feeding her properly, small meals at first, then more as her body adjusted. And little by little, things began to change. Her eyes softened. Her steps got steadier. The way she looked at us… it shifted. Not just watching anymore. Trusting. The first time she wagged her tail, it was barely noticeable. Just a small movement. But it meant everything. Weeks passed. Her ribs became less visible. Her coat started to shine again. She began to follow me around the house, not because she was unsure anymore, but because she wanted to. One evening, I sat down on the floor, and for the first time, she came over and leaned her full weight against me. Not cautiously. Not halfway. Fully. Like she had finally decided. This is safe. That was the moment I knew. Darla wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was healing. Today, she runs in the yard. Not far, not fast yet. But with purpose. With life. She eats without fear. Sleeps without tension. And when she looks at us now, there’s something completely different in her eyes. Peace.
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Sandra Thompson-Drew
Sandra Thompson-Drew@SandraWThompson·
On day 2,136 of #BeThankful, I’m thankful for champagne down the platt in aid of Will’s new boat 🛥️🥂
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