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On a freezing cold morning two years ago, my husband found a puppy nearly frozen to the ground. I immediately grabbed blankets and a heating pad and spent four hours warming her until she stopped shivering and fell asleep.

As I gathered my thoughts, I remembered hearing a car door slam in my rural driveway the night before at 11:00 pm. Because my house is in such a remote area, I was almost positive someone had dumped this dog in my yard. She had walked around my very large yard to the front of the house, ending up nearly frozen to the ground.

I gave Holly (she was found at Christmastime, after all) a warm bath and looked her over. She was certainly not a puppy. She appeared to be a beagle/chihuahua mix, was elderly, mostly blind and deaf, had terrible breath and teeth, and her nipples were hot and inflamed. My heart broke at her condition.

Despite her ill condition, she was sweet and very grateful for my love. Since I already had three dogs, my sister offered to adopt her as soon as I spoke with her that morning. She took Holly to the vet, where we found that Holly had most likely been kept for breeding in an outdoor cage most of her life.

The evidence supporting this included her calloused, leathery toe pads and skin. Holly had been bred many times and had developed advanced breast cancer. The vet suspected that when she could not be bred any longer, she was left to freeze to death.

Knowing Holly's illness was terminal, my sister took her home and lavished her with love and attention. She was given the best food and treats money could buy. Holly would drag her little princess bed all over the house, following my sister so that she could sleep near her.

After two weeks, her condition worsened. Based on the vet's urging to end Holly's pain and misery, she crossed the bridge with my sister holding her. Born into horrible conditions, Holly still had love and affection. I find comfort in the fact that she lived her remaining days with love.