The Story of Remy

So I was passing the French man's house on the way home and saw this bouncy happy little puppy run up to me. He was already big for his age and happy! This is not Remy. Remy was next to the house, under the bench, huddled. He had flies on him. His fur was falling off. He looked like he was dying. He was tiny and fit in the palm of my hand. I smiled but didn't want to intervene. I felt that might set a bad precedent. The next day, though, Remy was still there. Still alive. Still fighting. The next day, the same. Finally, I made a decision to take Remy to my house and rehabilitate him. I've been feeding him milk and rice and slowly trying to bring him up to size. He seems happier and bigger and stronger each day, but I know that for someone without the mother's milk, protection, guidance, etc., that his chances are still slim. But, I know that if I hadn't done anything that I would have felt worse. (Btw, Foday named him. He's just as stupid as I am in terms of falling for dogs.. :) I love and miss you all.