I have currently eight dogs. The oldest, a German shepherd who came here at age 7, was "inherited" from my brother who was moving into an apartment and could not take him. He is now 11 years old. Five mutts who arrived here still young, almost newborns, and therefore were very spoiled. Paloma, a five-month-old puppy, autistic, that only allows me to cherish her after being trapped in a corner (although she likes caresses a lot). And Madonna, the mother of three of the puppies, rescued from a slum, who arrived here after having recently given birth, sick, skinny and very anemic. She breastfed her young, was healed of the disease, regained weight and is now a very happy dog.

At meal behaviors are very different. Homer, the grandpa, eats grumbling, perhaps because  for him chewing is painful. The mutts, now adults, show a certain boredom by having to always eat the same diet. Looks like they're doing me a favor. Penelope, the most spoiled, at first rejects the food in hopes of getting an extra bonus in the form of a chicken broth or tuna, then surrenders to the hunger and end up eating. Paloma, which is growing, eats greedily, afraid that the bigger ones might take her food. Madonna is the only one who eats in a  thankful mood. Invariably as she receives her bowl with feed she wags her tail and doesn’t stop swinging it until she has finished eating. She's been with me for three years now and I do not think she remembers the cold, the hunger and the mistreatment she suffered before being rescued. But deep in her unconscious maybe she knows that our daily bread is a godsend and that godsends should always be received with gratefulness.