My neighbor called my rescue dogs “disgusting” and asked me to get rid of them – I’m 75 years old, and she learned her lesson very quickly.

I’m 75 years old, born and raised in Tennessee. I’ve spent most of my life taking in those no one else wanted. I hadn’t planned on this when I was younger. It just happened, something broken and forgotten at the same time.

I hadn’t foreseen this when I was younger.

As a little girl, I first found injured birds near the stream. Then it was stray cats when my husband and I bought our little house. After his death, it was the dogs’ turn.

Not the cute ones people were queuing up for, but the ones people whispered about. The ones who were scared. The ones who were hurt. The ones who had already learned what it was like to be abandoned.

That’s how I ended up with Pearl and Buddy.

After his death, it was the dogs’ turn.

They were small dogs rescued from a shelter, both weighing less than 9 kg, both unable to use their hind legs.

Pearl had been hit by a car, and Buddy was born that way. The shelter fitted them with wheels, and it changed everything.

My dogs don’t walk or run like others; they roll.

Their tiny carts make a soft clattering sound on the sidewalk, and when they move, their whole bodies seem to smile!

They wag their tails as if they have never known anything but joy.