I love writing on my spare time, and this is the latest story I have written. I am not finished, and I honestly don't think it'll ever end!! I am always coming up with new ideas, so, if you like the different stories in this one story so far just tell me and I will keep writing and adding.
Rescue & Shelter Dogs
A friend of mine called while driving through the allies of Los Angeles; she told me there was a pack of rats ganging up on another one, and being a vermin control officer, I got into the car and drove to the scene. Right when I got there, I noticed a number of rats chewing on a brown creature slightly larger than them; definitely not another rat. I took a stick and shooed all of the troublesome rats away, noticing immediately that a tiny Miniature Dachshund puppy lie on the ground, wounds and punctures all over and one of her eyes gone. She only had half of her tail and two of her toes were bitten off. Her right ear had been fully bitten off. It was bleeding and enflamed. With tears welling up in my eyes, I put gloves on to avoid being harmed by the rats that had been all over to pup, and carried the half-dead puppy to my truck. She looked at me with her lifeless amber eyes, big and begging me to help her. With all of the pain she was going through, she lie on my seat and used her strength to wag what she had of a tail. I knew I couldn’t let her die. I drove as quickly as I could to the local veterinary office, where the vet took the dying puppy from me. She told me euthanasia was the top option, but I refused until all of the other options were tried.
The veterinarian gave her a series of antibiotics, pain killers, stitches and medications. The puppy struggled in her small kennel, and I wondered if I was making the dog suffer horribly. Was I being a selfish human, making her live a painful life and die a painful death in the end? I wondered and wondered, but after hundreds of dollars put into trying to make her live, and after seeing her begging eyes, knowing she had used her strength to wag what she had of her tail at me, I couldn’t just let her go.
She stayed at the vet’s, healing, for two months. She had lots of shaved spots and scars from stitches; her tail had to be amputated, her eye socket was sewn together since she lost her eye, and one of her legs was amputated as well to minimize the pain of all of the punctures and broken bones and veins that had been in her leg. Finally, with a missing ear & with her meds and pain killers, I took her home. She met my Staffordshire Bull Terrier, three year old Jamaica and my Pit Bull, with a 24” head and a giant, muscular chest and body was thirteen year old Leonardo, as well as my Border Collie; fifteen year old Web, five month old Teal, my Rottweiler/German Shepherd, eleven year old Syncope, my Boxer/Doberman, and three year old Breughel, my Catahoula Leopard Dog. Leonardo came right up to her and licked her right across the face, his tail wagging stiffly. The little pup wagged her tail and plastered a happy doggy smile across her face, ignoring the agonizing pain going on in her body. Web, being an active Border collie that needs work and exercise, even though he was fifteen years old, tried to play with the pup, but she couldn’t play just yet; her body wasn’t strong enough. No matter how much she tried to jump and play with the dogs, she couldn’t. All she could do was wobble around on the deck and watch them chew on soccer balls, and watch Web happily herd the sheep around the field.
As I watched her wobble around, I came up with a name for her; Ratatouille. She listened to it intently and loved the name, clearly. While she healed, Leonardo lay curled around her, she tucked in close to his tummy and watched them play. Leonardo, being thirteen years of age, had stiff legs and poor hearing, although he still really loved to play, he didn’t. Instead, he lie intently next to Ratatouille. She’d stand up and wobble around, and when she lost balance, Leonardo would nudge her up again with his nose. I knew he was trying to help her heal.
After over two months, she could run just like the other dogs. Her fur had grown back and her stitch scars could barely be seen. The only thing people asked about were her missing toes and missing ear. Those didn’t even bother her, and she intently played with the other dogs, galloping behind Web when he was herding the sheep. Most of the time, she’d follow close behind Leonardo, nudging and licking him like he had for her. He still nudged her when she slightly lost her balance, and licked and cleaned her all the time.
When Ratatouille turned six years old, Leonardo, being nineteen years old, fell ill. While he lie in his bed, Ratatouille lie next to him and cleaned him, while he was unable to do it himself. Leonardo got so ill we had to take him to the emergency vet. Ratatouille got so depressed without him that we took Ratatouille to the vet and let her stay in the kennel with him. She had no problem being enclosed in a little kennel again; she just wanted to be with Leo. She cleaned him and licked him.
One month later, depressed without my Leonardo and Ratatouille, even though I visited them everyday, I got a telephone call. I picked it up and the vet informed me that Leonardo had passed away in the night. They could not remove his body because Ratatouille growled at them when they tried. When I arrived at the vet’s office, I immediately heard Ratatouille’s yelping, whining & crying. I walked to the kennel and Ratatouille was cuddled up next to Leo’s cold tummy, yelping and whining, licking his face, as if she was waiting for him to lick her back. I walked into the kennel and stroked her head. She licked my arm, whined and glanced at Leo and then back at me. “He’s gone, Ratatouille, he’s gone” I told her, and she yelped, and then struggled, shaking and twitching, to get up and follow me out of the kennel. She stopped when I closed the kennel door and looked at Leo. She whined, and then walked, slowly, behind me. Crying and yelping, she stepped into the car, and the whole way home she whined.
Ratatouille wouldn’t leave Leonardo’s bed unless she was going to the bathroom. All night and all day she would yelp and cry. Syncope would come to her and slurp her face with his tongue, covered her head with slobber. She’d whine quietly and lick him back, and then go back to whining and yelping. She stopped eating and drinking, and began to dramatically loose weight. Clumps of her fur fell out day by day and I rushed her to the vet. She stayed there and went on with her yelping and crying. They fed her through a tube and she got water through an IV. I decided maybe she needed another companion; a pit bull just like Leo. I looked on Petfinder and found a gorgeous brown and white eight year old named Daddy, calm pit bull that loves other dogs. On Petfinder, I came across two more pit bulls, a pretty 6 month old tan girl named Gilmore and a gorgeous 4 months old blue brindle boy named Radon. All three were at the same shelter and I went to visit them. I fell in love with the three and brought them home that day. Ratatouille was still at the vets office, and not yet ready to come home, so it was the perfect time for them to settle in. Radon & Gilmore, being young loved to chase tennis balls, swim in the pool, got along great with the sheep and learned to help Web herd the sheep within days. Daddy preferred lying on the porch, basking in the warm sun and soaking up the rays, but every once and a while he’d get up and chase after the ball with the other dogs. A week after bringing the three home I got a call from the shelter I got them at, she said she had an eleven year old black and white pit bull named Spokane, she was very loving and loved small dogs. The woman asked me to come see the dog, and I was on my way. Spokane caught my heart faster than the other three did, and of course, I brought her home. I lived on 600 acres and 10 dogs was no problem, even more could live on my ranch.
The vet said that Ratatouille was eating okay now; some of her hair had grown back, but still yelped and whined a lot. I brought her home three weeks after I got the call. She expressed her happiness to see me by peeing on the floor and wagging her tail so quickly it whipped me and gave me a mark. I hugged her and brought her to my car, where I drove her home. She didn’t yelp, but she did whine a few times. I brought her into the backyard and all ten dogs ran up as quickly as they could to greet her. Syncope was especially happy and licked her all over before going back to her very much loved soccer ball. Daddy lifted himself from the hot porch and ventured towards everyone, wondering what all of the commotion was all about. He saw Ratatouille and jumped up on me, but after a few minutes he ventured off into the woods to explore. I put Ratatouille down and she yelped. Spokane heard her yelp and flew out of the woods, soared onto the porch and skidded a couple feet, then stopping directly in front of Ratatouille. She lied down in front of Ratatouille, and Ratatouille gave her a little kiss on her nose, Spokane returned it with a big, sloppy kiss across her face, and then began to crawl around Ratatouille, cleaning every part of her body. Never once after her meeting Spokane did I hear a series of yelps, cries, or whines. She’d whine every once and a while, but Spokane would fix it by giving her a nice kiss across the face. Daddy loved her too; he licked her and cleaned her. Gilmore & Radon would trample her and try to play with her the first few days, but she wasn’t quite ready for that, with her tail tucked between her legs, she’d run and hide under Spokane. About a month after bringing her home again, he fur had grown 100% back, she no longer yelped or cried, and now she’d run and trip Gilmore & Radon when they least expected it. They’d run down the hill full speed after the ball and Ratatouille would bite the dogs’ heels. Spokane and Daddy would trot behind the pack, as if to keep them in line like little sheep.
I got the dog at the local shelter; he was a gorgeous 3 month old yellow Labrador retriever, and energetic, barky attitude. He loved people and loved spinning in circles. The person who had him brought him too the shelter because his energy level was too high. I went to the shelter looking for a high-energy dog that would happily ride everywhere in the back of my truck, come when called and willingly perform anything I asked. When I searched these statistics on the internet it came up with a Labrador retriever, so I decided to search the local shelter before making a trip to the breeder I had found. A Border collie, a breed I had in the past, was too energetic and demanding for me. I wanted something with slightly the same drive, but not as demanding, and a dog that wouldn’t chew his own feet if toys couldn’t be found or if sheep weren’t provided in front of him. At the local shelter, I came across the yellow dog, spinning in circles and springing himself against the kennel door, barking and frantically looking for a way out of the small kennel enclosing him. This dog clearly needed the country life, and never to be locked up in a little kennel again. I could provide just that for him; along with agility, hunting, flyball & Frisbee.
I brought him home that day and he ran around my 45 acres like a mad man, sniffing every corner and exploring every inch. He immediately stuffed his mouth with toys he found lying around the landscape from my past dog, a Border collie named Colorado who had passed away at 16 from old age. I had about 30 sheep I’d bought for the demanding collie to herd, and without any training, he’d herd them day and night. They provided activity and exercise for him, nurturing his instinct to herd. He died and I still had the sheep, they had no point anymore and I thought about sending them to a slaughter house, but figured I’d just keep them on the land. I had a 13 year old Tibetan spaniel, but she just lay around and refused to do anything I told her to do. My wife had a 14 year old English springer spaniel who had no interest in me and absolutely no drive for anything. I’d been a while since we’d had a pup, and I was definitely ready for another.
During the weeks I had the lab pup, he followed all of the qualities I dreamed of in a dog. But then he saw my big old Ford truck. He jumped right into the truck and laid down, just plopped down on the wet, steel back and fell asleep there. I left him there for the day, but at night I called him in. He refused. I hauled Colorado’s old igloo dog house over to the truck, lifted it into the back and filled it with hay. The big pup walked into it, plopped down and fell right asleep. Rolling my eyes, I walked inside thinking the next day he’d be back to wanting to hunt and get trained.
The next day I found the dog lying in the back of the truck. I left him there and drove off in my Ford, with him in the back, and went hunting with my friends and their loyal Labradors. When I opened the back of the truck and asked the dog to get out, he looked at me with pleading amber eyes, asking me not to make him leave the back of the truck. I lifted him out and he stood limp, his tail pointing straight down. The dog was lifeless. I started to walk towards my friends, and the dog jumped back into the truck. “Whatever” I muttered and walked off to hunt with my friends.
When I got back, I called the dog ‘Ford’ for some reason. I said, “You’re a retarded, stupid, mutt Ford!”, and he looked at me, his eyes full of life but he still refused to remove his body from the back of the truck. That’s how he got his name, because all he did was sit in the back of my Ford truck, and only left when I made him or to relieve himself.
My friend pointed me towards a Labrador breeder in the state I was in. I drove to the breeder, with Ford sitting in the back of the truck. She showed me three litters of pups; one litter had four 3 month old pups, another litter had seven 8 month old pups, and another litter had ten 11 month old pups. I picked a chocolate Labrador from the litter of ten 11 month old pups and named him Muff. He was bulky with a stocky body and a big chest and heavy head. He turned out to be the perfect dog for me, and I loved him dearly. He’d very happily hop into the back of my truck with a swiping tail and sit down in the corner, avoiding Ford. I don’t know why Muff avoided him, but it didn’t seem to be a problem anyway. Ford kept himself enclosed in the back of the truck, never removing himself unless he was relieving himself. I no longer forced him to leave the truck. He developed a white mask and passed away at the age of thirteen.
I missed Ford dearly and the way he’d so closely bonded to my truck, but Muff didn’t have a problem with having the truck to himself. I know all Ford did was lie in ‘his’ truck, but I still loved him & I know that no matter how bad a dog is, or how annoying one is, you can never forget them once they die.
I rescue pit bulls. They are the most popular dog euthanized at shelters and it upsets me to know these loving dogs go without a home and get put to death just because ‘they’re a pit bull’. I started rescuing pit bulls 30 years ago, and I still do today. I will never forget Beast, a true pit bull.
It was a scorching hot day in Florida, in the higher 100’s and the rain was hot. The day was misty, stuffy & sticky when I got a call; it was from a friend of mine. Someone had moved out of the house next door to her a few weeks ago and she said they had a pit bull in bad shape. I was immediately on my way over. I noticed immediately that the dog was badly emaciated. She were abandoned and left to die. I made my way into the backyard, cautiously, because I knew an abused, ignored pit bull could be a dangerous one. The small, female pit bull noticed me coming towards her and whined, backing towards the big sycamore tree in the backyard. I knelt down to the ground and coaxed her towards me with a piece of expensive, juicy steak. She groaned and crawling on her belly, whining frantically she made her way towards me. As soon as she got a few feet away from me, she quickly spun over so her belly was exposed, her tail tightly pressed against her belly, the tip of it wagging. I smiled and gave her the piece of meat, grabbing the boat chain that was attached to her neck. She hopped up and began to wag her tail back and forth, up and down, kissing me all over the face, her ears pressed against her head and a smile creased across her face. I removed the heavy boat chain and wrapped a leash around her neck, she happily trotted beside me out of the yard, but when I got near the gate, I noticed something inside of the house; the back door was open and something was laying there. I quickly rushed the small female into my truck and made my way into the house. I stared at a grey pit bull, a huge chest being held by smaller legs, his body bulky and muscular. The thing that stood out though was the brick in his head. I could see it had been thrown with force at him, and it was stuck in his dented skull. I shook my head and looked at the dog, weighted to the ground by the huge brick. He looked at me with his helpless eyes as if saying, “Help me. Please”. I couldn’t just leave him there, so I took the chain off of the barbed wire that was grown into his neck, and brought him to my truck, where he lie next to me on the seat. When I removed him from my truck at the vet’s office, blood had stained my seat. I rushed him inside and the vet took the heavy, 90 pound dog in her arms with the help of a man. They removed the brick stuck in his head, luckily though, his skull had caught the brick in time for it not to hit his brain; which would have been extremely deadly. They removed the barbed wire from his infected neck and disinfected the wound. While the process was going on, I took the small female and brought her to my rescue. I tested her with my other pit bull, Serenity, a 2 year old brindle girl who I had rescued from a dog shelter that was going to put her to sleep in 30 minutes, and let her run with her in my fenced 6 acres.
In a few weeks of recovery time, I took the giant grey pit bull home with me. He was amazed to discover that his head was no longer weighted to the floor by a heavy brick, and ran with the other two happily. I decided to name to muscular dog, ‘The Beast’, ‘Beast’ for short. He acted like a total sweetie, licking me and wagging his tail happily, but his body fit the name perfectly.
I ended up keeping both Beast and the small female, who I named Pamela. Both of the two were great additions to my family, and even though their past was horrid and scary, they forgave the human species and went on with their life, loving me and my family dearly.
I had owned Corgis my whole life, they resembled something to me unlike any other breed of dog and I believed I’d never own any breed besides a Corgi. My gorgeous Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Lil’ Annabelle had just passed away and I was on a quest to find the perfect dog. I went to the local shelter with my husband, Dana and looked in all of the kennels. None of them were Corgis, but one dog really caught my eye, a Mastiff. I’d never been a fan for these dogs before, but his giant head and buff body for some reason appealed to me. I wasn’t sure what my husband would think, and decided there was no chance. A few weeks later, we went back to the shelter to look again and I saw the same dog. This time, I showed my husband. He got a look on my face I’d never forget, he was probably staring at the giant puddle of drool on the floor. I began pleading him for the dog, and the next day we were back at the shelter, this time to get the giant brindle Mastiff. With the biggest smile on my face, we loaded the, as my husband called him, “Drool Bag” into the car. Once at home, he lumbered out of the car, pottied on the grass and helped himself into the house, sniffing everything and then checking back in with us, a slowly wagging tail and a slobbery tongue lolling out of his tongue, dripping saliva on my new tile. I just smiled. That night, the 200 pound ‘pup’ was on my lap while I watched Grey’s Anatomy. I ended up falling asleep, my head on his. When I woke up he was still lying there, and when he noticed I had awaken he thumped his tail on the couch. Right when I woke up a name came into mine, ‘Moose’, and it stuck.
Everyday Moose would go everywhere with me, sleep with me and comfort me on the harder days.
Today, I can’t imagine life without Moose, I am so glad I asked my husband instead of leaving him there to be euthanized, normally people wouldn’t take a giant Mastiff like Moose home, and I’m sure glad we did. Some people need to look beyond the dog’s drool and to their heart, and then they’ll really notice the love and care these dogs really provide. I’m really glad we didn’t go on looking for a Corgi, I just can’t express how happy I am I got a dog like Moose!
The people at the animal shelter swore once I brought him home I’d be disappointed and I’d be back with him immediately, probably the next day. I refused to believe them and took the Chesapeake Bay Retriever/Smoot Collie home. He was purely a Smooth Collie, with curly, thick, water shedding hair like a Chesapeake. In the car, he sat politely straight up in the passenger seat. I patted his head and hugged him the whole way home. That night he lie happily on his dog bed, but boy was I in for a surprise when I got up! At least 15 rolls of shredded toilet paper lay on the floor, my computer wires were chewed and my television speakers were ruined, taken right out of the sockets. I stared around my trashed house, and then at the dog, trying to spit a piece of toilet paper out of his mouth. I took a deep breath, my face as red as a tomato. I grabbed a leash and chained him to the deck, thinking he could do no damage out there. I left for work, and was in for another surprise when I got home. My vine was chewed through in a couple different places, and 3 or 4 piles of vomit seeped into the deck wood. Chunks of grass lie all over the yard, my yard looked like a head with a ton of missing hair, almost bald. Slivers and chunks were taken out of all areas on the porch. I stared at him, lying innocently on the grass, thumping his tail. On his five-times-a-day walks, he’d yank on the leash, threatening to tear my arm right out of its socket. He’d pick up anything on the way and then when he saw water, he’d drag me as quick as he could and plunge into the water. When he saw sheep, he’d drag me across, through and over anything in his way until he got to the sheep. And then he’d herd them all around the field. I’d pick up his leash and drag him home, clip on a chain a little heavier than his leash and tether him to the balcony. The balcony was cement, no wood, no carpet and NOTHING sitting there for him to ruin, tear up, or deliberately smash or chew on. I put his bed out there, his hundreds of toys, treats, food, and water. I left him out there days at a time, afraid to walk him. I hired many dog walkers, all of them quitting after a matter of time.
Flody & Yeti
I was at my friend Lilly’s house, I had been living with her for the past three months and we were outside sitting on the bench, staring into the distance. Out of nowhere, five little puppies appeared from the bushes. I ran over and noticed the pups’ ribs were sticking out like knobs, their heads bony and their legs showing all of the bones and joints clearly. I led them into the house, my friend starving speechlessly at me. “Do you mind if I use the dog food?” I asked, or, more like pleaded. She shook her head and I scooped a couple cups of food out, warmed up some baby formula mixed with water and gave the meal to them. They all gulfed it down as I pleaded for them to slow down so they wouldn’t throw up all over Lilly’s floor. I decided to move them out into the dog pen so they could all go potty before they went back into the house. I took their dog, Tessa, a brown and white pit bull out of the kennel and hooked her to a tree with her wire chain. The puppies ran around obnoxiously in the pen, stumbling over each other and nipping at each others ears. I smiled as I saw them play with each other, knowing they were the best of buds; they were all each other had for a while, scavenging food and probably pleading other homes for food.
The puppies grew quicker than ever, they were Tessa’s size by the time they were four or five months old. Tessa loved them; she’d play with them and teach them lessons like she was their mom without the milk. Although the puppies did try to get milk, they failed big time. I could tell they were Labradors in their older days, two of them males and three females. We named the two chocolate colored males Ate & Flody. We named the black female Yeti, the yellow female Omega and the other yellow female Antigua. Flody and Yeti were my favorites. Flody had an obnoxious attitude, roughly playing with his siblings, nipping at their ears and begging for a rough game of some kind. Although he was rough with his siblings, his carefully cleaned the cat and cuddled with us humans. Yeti was another one of those obnoxious pups, begging for a rough game, and not unlike Flody, she was gentle with everything besides her siblings. She nudged the cat and licked his head, cuddled with any kids that may come by and protected her friends with her life. She had an outgoing, lively attitude, always making me laugh and giggle. Tessa put up with their puppy ways and refused to get bored of the entertaining pups.
When it came time for me to move into my 3 story house with my 3-acre backyard that I had been waiting for to be built, I had to bring a puppy. I couldn’t make a decision between Yeti & Flody so I un-regrettably brought both of them to my new home. A stray, pregnant cat wandered into our yard and was terrified of my two 80 pound pups, she tried to make her way out of my yard but Flody caught her by the scruff just in time. He walked his legs moving awkwardly as he tried not to harm the cat with his legs; he walked as quick as he could to me. Smiling, I took the cat, covered with drool, into my arms. Flody kissed her across the face and then soared off the deck onto Yeti. The cat, who I named Casey, had 10 tiny kittens. Yeti and Flody tried desperately to help care for them, but at first, Casey was unsure about it. She’d stare at them, hiss, and expand her paw with extended claws protruding from it at them. I’d watch, and within a few days she gave up her protectiveness and noticed the dog’s only want to help, both of the dogs ended up being second moms for the 10 kittens. The dogs would clean them, and when the kittens started to walk they’d play with them, gently slightly knocking them off balance with their giant paws, and then licked them whenever they fell as if to apologize for the action. When the kittens got older, I refused to give them up. After all, Yeti and Flody wouldn’t be able to part with them anyway. It was a scene to see all eleven of the cats cuddled up closely to the dogs’ warm bodies, every once and a while stretching and licking the dogs’ noses with their rough tongues. The dogs would clean them while they slept, making them wet rat-looking animals.
He sat in the Labrador rescue kennel, his grey mask standing out from his jet black hair like a white stain on a new black shirt. His eyes were closed and he wavered from side to side, like a man thinking wisely. I smiled when I saw the old dog, probably 9 or 10 years old. I ended up taking the old man home that day, and named him ‘Samwise’. Every day for at least a few hours, Samwise would sit and waver from side to side, his eyes loosely closed. You could see him barely see him blinking, but it was so clear he was thinking. He got me to thinking about what he was thinking about, I wondered and wondered and to this day I have still not figured out why Samwise did what he did. When he got up, he’d wobble to the door, pee outside lick my arm or leg and then lie down and chew on a soggy bone. It was hard to figure out Samwise, but whatever he thought about, he’d still share the same amount of love for me as he’d ever had, and it just makes you think how mysterious dogs are, honestly.