"A Yorkie is too expensive," was the thought on my mind the day I was introduced to Fluffy.  As a first year medical student, attending the University of Miami - Jackson, being mindful of my budget for school and living expenses, I in good conscience could not see myself purchasing an expensive dog for companionship that I knew would already be placed in a good home.  If I adopted a rescue dog, I would give a dog a good home to one that otherwise would not have an opportunity to have one; I would save money, and everyone wins.

I left the adorable Yorkie and went to the Fort Lauderdale Animal Rescue with a sincere desire to provide a loving home to a homeless dog.  Only two puppies were left - a female who showed no interest in me, and a male who looked at me with the cutest puppy dog eyes, crawling over to me and offering me puppy kisses.  I fell in love.  This little one was the one and there was an instant bond between us.  How very little did I know that in this moment in time, I had made a decision which would affect the course of my life, my career, and everything that I knew to be valuable to me.

I brought him home, not knowing what to call him.  He was so tiny, only 2 lbs, 3 oz. and stretched head-to-toe in the palm of my hand.  From what I was told, he and his litter mates were found next to the body of their mother who had been hit and killed by a car outside of Lake Okeechobee in central Florida.  Everyone estimated he was 5 - 6 weeks old, but as I look back, I cannot believe he was more than 3 - 4 weeks old.  As he squeaked in my hands, I figured he was hungry.  Taking a small saucer, I put some food in it, placed it on the floor and offered it to him.  He was so small, he climbed into the saucer with his two front paws and gobbled down the food.  He certainly had a healthy appetite!  But with every rescue dog, I knew it would be in my best interest to have him thoroughly checked out by my veterinarian.

Being a fan of the Harry Potter book series, my little pup reminded me of the dog in the first story who was 18 feet tall and had three heads -- his name, of all things, was Fluffy.  Perfect!!  I, too, would call my little one, Fluffy.  Fluffy and I bonded quickly, but I was concerned about some of the physical and health issues that Fluffy exhibited.  As soon as I could, I made an appointment to take Fluffy to my vet for an initial physical exam.

Fluffy never made it to that first scheduled exam.  Another physical crisis prompted Fluffy to be seen before his appointment.  What happened next is just the beginning of his story, or more importantly, my greatest lesson in life.