13/11/2026
FEEL GOOD FRIDAY: After a long and hard week in rescue, we would love to share Ozzy's story of a day in the life of the "Prince of darkness"❤️🐾🥰 Ozzy is a SRSA rwscue pup and living the life if adventure and fun:
Ozzy and Mr. Quackers
At the end of a long, busy day, when the sky had turned the colour of blueberry jam, a small black schnauzer puppy named Ozzy Osbourne trotted down the hallway with his beard still damp from his water bowl.
Ozzy had done a great many important things that day. He had barked at a leaf (it was very suspicious). He had chased his own long tail twice and caught it once. He had dug for treasure in the garden and found a very old sock. And he had ruled the house loudly, the way a tiny prince of darkness should.
But now his paws felt heavy, and his ears flopped lower than usual. It was bedtime, and bedtime meant only one thing: it was time to find Mr. Quackers.
Mr. Quackers was a soft white duck with a slightly squashed orange beak and one wing that had been chewed just a little during Ozzy's teething days. He wasn't the fanciest toy in the basket. The squeaky bone was louder and the rope tug was stronger. But Mr. Quackers was the best one for sleeping.
Ozzy sniffed under the couch. No Mr. Quackers. He checked behind the kitchen door. Only a dust bunny. He peeked into his food bowl just in case. Empty, sadly.
His little eyebrows wrinkled with worry. Where could he be?
Then he heard a soft rustle from his bed by the window. There, tucked under the blanket with just his white tail feathers poking out, was Mr. Quackers, waiting for him like he always did.
Ozzy's long tail swished back and forth so fast it thumped against the side of his bed like a happy little drum. He climbed into bed, turned around once, twice, three times, and flopped down with a big puppy sigh. Then he gently took Mr. Quackers in his paws and tucked the duck right under his chin, where it fit perfectly.
"Did you have a good day, Mr. Quackers?" Ozzy seemed to ask, with one sleepy blink.
And Mr. Quackers, being a duck of few words, simply stayed soft and warm, which was exactly the right answer.
Outside, the moon rose, round and white like a big friendly duck egg. The stars came out one by one. Somewhere far off, a cricket played a quiet little song.
Ozzy curled his long black tail all the way around himself and Mr. Quackers, like a cosy scarf, so his best friend would stay snug all night.
His breathing slowed. His paws twitched as he started to dream. In his dream he and Mr. Quackers were floating down a gentle river of warm milk, past hills made of biscuits and trees full of tennis balls. Mr. Quackers paddled in front, and Ozzy followed close behind. Neither of them was ever, ever lost.
The wild little rock-and-roll puppy who had barked at leaves all day gave one last tiny wuff in his sleep, snuggled his nose into Mr. Quackers' soft white feathers, and drifted off.
And the two best friends slept all night long, safe and warm, until the morning sun came to say hello.
Goodnight, Ozzy. Goodnight, Mr. Quackers.
The End. 🐾🦆
