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How could anyone not love a pit bull? I met Nancy when I was a volunteer at the county animal shelter in Carlsbad. She was one of those dogs that's easily overlooked. Her former owner had beaten her so badly, she was unable to make eye contact with the dog customers passing by. She hunkered at the back of the kennel without making an impression on anybody.
She was a two-year-old pit bull mix, the typical age and breed that comes into the shelter on a daily basis. She was kind of small and had sweet brown eyes, but no one noticed her. Her expression was as blank as a white wall. Unless she learned how to put a twinkle in her eye, her chances of finding a new home were slim.
After trying to coax her with the world's tastiest treats, she still wouldn't come to me. To help her, I was going to have to take a risk. I rushed into the kennel, snagged her neck with a loop leash, and then ran like hell before she had time to think about biting me.
Once I got her to a run, she didn't play like other dogs. She curled her body into a letter "c." And when I made a fast move or raised my voice, she hit the ground with her eyes squeezed shut, expecting to be slapped. I hated the guy who made her this way. I vowed that if I ever got his address, I'd pay him a visit with a baseball bat.
According to her records, animal control officers had found Nancy in a neighbor's garage shaking the neighbor's cat. She was often seen running at large and when the officers called the owner to pick her up, the bastard said he "didn't want her," to cover his own ass. I'll bet he was afraid he'd be arrested for the poor condition she was in.
His loss was my gain. Because no one will love you more than a dog who has been abandoned and abused. Nancy had never been inside a house; I could tell because she was covered in filth and it took six Q-Tip swabs to clean the gunk out of her ears. Her ribs were showing and her face was scarred, leading me to believe she had been forced to compete for food. Her lazy, deadbeat owner had probably fed all of the dogs out of one bowl. And her pendulous nipples hung almost to the floor, a sign that she had already been bred at a very young age. If there's a special place in hell for bad dog owners, I hope this guy gets a front row seat. I'll even pay for the ticket to fly him there.
When I got Nancy home, she wasn't even housetrained. Sometimes she followed the other dogs outside, but she still didn't completely understand why she was going outside. One morning, I woke up to find she had not only peed on my new sweater which had fallen to the floor, she peed in my purse too. And then she gazed at me with an evil eye as if she were proud of what she had done. She was testing me and I'm proud to say I got an "A." No yelling. No threatening. Not even a slap went on that day. I simply threw the sweater in the washer and tossed the purse away.
When I took her out to "go potty" she stared straight ahead as if she were a statue. I waited for hours to get her to go, but she had no idea what we were doing there. Finally, I brought the old dog out and when Nancy saw her sniffing at the wood chips, she started to do it too. If I hadn't had the older dog around to train Nancy for me, I don't know what I'd do.
So many people only want a perfect dog--small, white, and young. But no one loves me like Nancy does. Every night, she has to be touching me before she can go to sleep. She'll tuck her head under my chin, or curl up against my leg, just to make sure the person she needs so much will still be there in the morning.
In less than two years, Nancy has bloomed like a Double Red rose. When I compare her before and after pictures, I can't believe the change. Her eyes are now warm as she looks directly at the camera without any fear. Before, her eyes were as lifeless as large, glass beads.
On her best days, she gallops from one end of the dog park to the other with total abandon and joy on her face. She doesn't want to hurt anyone and never will, because unlike people, she has forgiven the person who gave her a rotten start in life.
We were at the dog park in Rancho Bernardo when a grizzled old man started to enter the run. When he saw Nancy, he backed out of the door and made an ugly face. "I don't like pit bulls," he scoffed and walked away.
"That's okay," I said, "because they don't like crusty old goats either."
Another day, we were in a run with an old dog that was frothing at the mouth and growling. "She doesn't like pit bulls," the frightened owner said.
"I don't think she's angry because she doesn't like pit bulls," I told him. "I think she doesn't like being frustrated on the end of a tight leash. That's how attack dogs are trained."
He ignored me and proceeded to take his dog out of the run. As they passed by us, the dog growled and snapped at Nancy's face, missing her muzzle by an inch. I had waited for months for this moment. I made an ugly face and said, "I don't know if I want my pit bull around that dog."
His wife howled with laughter, but the man didn't get it. Some people never do.
http://www.youtube.com/embed/ItFjmhKKfDI?rel=0"
How could anyone not love a pit bull? I met Nancy when I was a volunteer at the county animal shelter in Carlsbad. She was one of those dogs that's easily overlooked. Her former owner had beaten her so badly, she was unable to make eye contact with the dog customers passing by. She hunkered at the back of the kennel without making an impression on anybody.
She was a two-year-old pit bull mix, the typical age and breed that comes into the shelter on a daily basis. She was kind of small and had sweet brown eyes, but no one noticed her. Her expression was as blank as a white wall. Unless she learned how to put a twinkle in her eye, her chances of finding a new home were slim.
After trying to coax her with the world's tastiest treats, she still wouldn't come to me. To help her, I was going to have to take a risk. I rushed into the kennel, snagged her neck with a loop leash, and then ran like hell before she had time to think about biting me.
Once I got her to a run, she didn't play like other dogs. She curled her body into a letter "c." And when I made a fast move or raised my voice, she hit the ground with her eyes squeezed shut, expecting to be slapped. I hated the guy who made her this way. I vowed that if I ever got his address, I'd pay him a visit with a baseball bat.
According to her records, animal control officers had found Nancy in a neighbor's garage shaking the neighbor's cat. She was often seen running at large and when the officers called the owner to pick her up, the bastard said he "didn't want her," to cover his own ass. I'll bet he was afraid he'd be arrested for the poor condition she was in.
His loss was my gain. Because no one will love you more than a dog who has been abandoned and abused. Nancy had never been inside a house; I could tell because she was covered in filth and it took six Q-Tip swabs to clean the gunk out of her ears. Her ribs were showing and her face was scarred, leading me to believe she had been forced to compete for food. Her lazy, deadbeat owner had probably fed all of the dogs out of one bowl. And her pendulous nipples hung almost to the floor, a sign that she had already been bred at a very young age. If there's a special place in hell for bad dog owners, I hope this guy gets a front row seat. I'll even pay for the ticket to fly him there.
When I got Nancy home, she wasn't even housetrained. Sometimes she followed the other dogs outside, but she still didn't completely understand why she was going outside. One morning, I woke up to find she had not only peed on my new sweater which had fallen to the floor, she peed in my purse too. And then she gazed at me with an evil eye as if she were proud of what she had done. She was testing me and I'm proud to say I got an "A." No yelling. No threatening. Not even a slap went on that day. I simply threw the sweater in the washer and tossed the purse away.
When I took her out to "go potty" she stared straight ahead as if she were a statue. I waited for hours to get her to go, but she had no idea what we were doing there. Finally, I brought the old dog out and when Nancy saw her sniffing at the wood chips, she started to do it too. If I hadn't had the older dog around to train Nancy for me, I don't know what I'd do.
So many people only want a perfect dog--small, white, and young. But no one loves me like Nancy does. Every night, she has to be touching me before she can go to sleep. She'll tuck her head under my chin, or curl up against my leg, just to make sure the person she needs so much will still be there in the morning.
In less than two years, Nancy has bloomed like a Double Red rose. When I compare her before and after pictures, I can't believe the change. Her eyes are now warm as she looks directly at the camera without any fear. Before, her eyes were as lifeless as large, glass beads.
On her best days, she gallops from one end of the dog park to the other with total abandon and joy on her face. She doesn't want to hurt anyone and never will, because unlike people, she has forgiven the person who gave her a rotten start in life.
We were at the dog park in Rancho Bernardo when a grizzled old man started to enter the run. When he saw Nancy, he backed out of the door and made an ugly face. "I don't like pit bulls," he scoffed and walked away.
"That's okay," I said, "because they don't like crusty old goats either."
Another day, we were in a run with an old dog that was frothing at the mouth and growling. "She doesn't like pit bulls," the frightened owner said.
"I don't think she's angry because she doesn't like pit bulls," I told him. "I think she doesn't like being frustrated on the end of a tight leash. That's how attack dogs are trained."
He ignored me and proceeded to take his dog out of the run. As they passed by us, the dog growled and snapped at Nancy's face, missing her muzzle by an inch. I had waited for months for this moment. I made an ugly face and said, "I don't know if I want my pit bull around that dog."
His wife howled with laughter, but the man didn't get it. Some people never do.
http://www.youtube.com/embed/ItFjmhKKfDI?rel=0"