Seeing the horrific abuse some dogs receive at the hands of people is incredibly upsetting. Riona, a charming pitbull mix, is one such courageous survivor. She had to go through the unthinkable—having her owner set her on fire. However, Riona is finally headed to her new forever home after a year of resiliency and recuperation.
In June of last year, Riona ran down the street in Nutbush, Tennessee, enveloped in flames, shocking the locals. There was no mistaking that this was a purposeful act of cruelty because of the strong gasoline odor that pervaded the space. Riona had been purposefully set on fire, as corroborated by witness statements and ring camera film. This is a horrible reality.
The poor puppy lost its ear and sustained terrible burns. Riona’s left eye was preserved because to the swift emergency response. The loving staff at Tails of Hope Dog Rescue took her in right away, and they made arrangements for Bluff City Veterinary Specialists to treat her. Her substantial fourth-degree burns throughout her body required numerous skin grafts, making the road to recovery difficult and drawn out. Riona fearlessly kept a cheerful attitude during her recuperation process in spite of the trauma she had experienced.
Riona’s tale took the world by storm, winning over millions of hearts in the process. Her situation was made public via a TikTok video that went viral, inspiring an outpouring of compassion and solidarity. Gifts and donations from kindhearted people touched by Riona’s tenacity and resolve came in.
In the midst of this touching reaction, justice started to come into its own. Riona’s fire-starter, 43-year-old Quishon Brown, was taken into custody and accused of assault and felonies including animal abuse. Riona’s story also had a larger effect, leading to Tennessee passing a new law against animal abuse.
Over the course of several months, Riona’s health became better every day. Riona’s story took an amazing turn almost a year after her harrowing ordeal: she had finally found her everlasting home! This was a joyful turn of events!
With much excitement, Tails of Hope said that they will be taking Riona to her new family via a ten-hour road trip. As they discussed the specifics of her devoted everlasting home, excitement erupted. Riona would have a large yard to explore, kids to spoil her, and other furry friends to play with. Riona’s new family can give her the treatment she needs because they understand the depth of her injuries and have experience working in the medical sector.
Riona’s journey is just getting started, even if it looks like it’s heading to an end. Her transformation from sorrow to success is quite remarkable. In a moving Facebook post, Tails of Hope recognized the teamwork that went into this inspiring rescue. The good that would come from one courageous dog’s struggle to survive seemed unimaginable.
Tails of Hope serves as a reminder that their work is never done, even when Riona begins her new chapter. They demonstrated that there is always someone in need by taking in another burn victim right away. Every rescue offers the chance to contribute to yet another amazing tale of healing and hope.
Despite the brutality that plagues Riona’s background, we take comfort in the fact that she is currently moving toward a better future. These kinds of endearing tales are what give us hope for humanity again. Let’s spread the word about this encouraging news, honoring Riona’s tenacity and offering our love and support to her as she embarks on this new journey.
Go here to find out more about Riona’s amazing journey and the significance of her narrative.
MY HUSBAND LEFT ME AND OUR KIDS FOR HIS MISTRESS – I WAS FURIOUS AND TOOK MY REVENGE.
The bitterness tasted like ash in my mouth. How could he? How could he just walk away, leaving us like discarded toys? Mark, my husband of fifteen years, the man I’d built a life with, had traded us in for a shiny, new model. A twenty-year-old, no less. A coworker. I’d suspected something was off, the late nights, the secretive phone calls, but I’d pushed it aside, trusting him. Foolish me.
The day I caught them, at that cheap motel on the outskirts of town, was seared into my memory. The look on his face, a mixture of guilt and something disturbingly close to relief, still haunted my dreams. He didn’t even try to deny it, just mumbled some pathetic excuse about “finding himself.”
The divorce was a whirlwind of lawyers and paperwork, a cold, clinical process that stripped away the remnants of our life together. He’d agreed to everything, too quickly, too easily. I was left with a pittance, barely enough to cover a few months’ rent.
Then came the real insult. He’d put our marital home, the house where we’d raised our kids, the house filled with memories, up for sale. And he’d listed it for an absurdly inflated price, far exceeding the online valuation used during the financial order. The judge had signed off on it, seemingly oblivious to the glaring discrepancy.
I was left scrambling, barely able to make ends meet, while he was raking in a fortune. Seeing that listing online, the photos of our home, now staged and impersonal, was like a knife to the heart. It was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.
But the final straw was when his new fiancée, the mistress, announced on social media that they were buying a “dream home” because they were expecting a baby. A baby! He was building a new life, a new family, while my kids were struggling, while I was drowning in debt. The injustice of it all was suffocating.
I was consumed by rage, a burning desire for revenge. I wanted him to feel the same pain, the same despair, that he’d inflicted on me. I wanted him to understand the consequences of his actions.
It wasn’t until I visited my former mother-in-law, a woman who had always been kind to me, that a plan began to form. She was as devastated by Mark’s actions as I was. We sat in her cozy kitchen, sipping tea, and she told me stories of Mark’s childhood, of his father’s own infidelity, a pattern repeating itself.
Then, she mentioned a small, overlooked detail. A safety deposit box, inherited from Mark’s father, containing… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d always assumed it was just old documents.
The next day, I went to the bank. I’d remembered Mark mentioning the box once, years ago, but he’d dismissed it as unimportant. I presented myself as his legal representative, using a power of attorney document I’d obtained during the divorce proceedings, a document Mark had signed without reading thoroughly.
Inside the box, nestled amongst faded photographs and yellowed letters, was a stock certificate. A substantial amount of shares in a company that had recently skyrocketed in value. Mark, in his haste to leave, had completely forgotten about it.
I sold the shares.
The money, a significant sum, allowed me to pay off my debts, secure a comfortable apartment for myself and the kids, and even put a down payment on a small business.
I didn’t tell Mark. I didn’t gloat. I simply moved on, building a new life for myself and my children. The satisfaction wasn’t in the money, but in the knowledge that I had taken back control, that I had turned his betrayal into my liberation. And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn that some things, like family, are worth more than any fleeting infatuation.
Leave a Reply