My beautiful, nearly 9 year old, wheaton colored, Scottish Terrier, MacGregor died July 2012 from bladder cancer. I miss him more than I can say. My adult daughter found a Potosi puppy mill Scottie at an animal hospital not a mile from my apartment. I went to visit the pup and found a neglected, though "on the mend", thin, black Scottie with sparkly eyes and a very friendly personality. We hit it off immediately. She had been treated recently by the vet for every parasite known to man, though she still had missing patches of hair and an absent skirt from a flea infestation that caused her to scratch until she only had raw skin left. She shook her head constantly due to a flea dermatitis she'd probably suffered with all 4 years of her life in the puppy mill. I brought her home this Friday and she and I are acclimating to life together. Already her fur is growing back 'shiny like a seal', and I will start a second round of Panacur for parasites this week. While I watch her curl up in MacGregor's bed, play just like he did with the menagerie of toys I gave him, and delight in healthy treats and Avoderm kibble, I am reminded of the indestructable bond I shared with my Scottie man, Mac and the new bond McCartney and I are forging. I feel nostalgia for all the wonderful Scotties I've known, reignited by this once suffering, little, puppy mill Scottie. Every time I see her delight in being with me, I think of the loving, bond I had with MacGregor and know that I will share the same with McCartney.