Several years ago a stray brown dog came into my yard, and into my heart. She was starved, dehydrated, with a scarred face and body, and limping; the last breed of dog on earth I would ever have freely chosen to love. SHE chose me. SHE rescued me.

After being growled at as I approached, I naturally kept my distance. I later recognized this to be the distancing mechanism which she had perfected for her own protection and self-preservation. (Quite effectively I might add.) It did seem that she had decided on a prolonged visit, and made herself right at home in the far side of the yard. Not knowing much about various breeds of dogs, I checked the internet to see if my suspicion was correct, and yes indeed she was some kind of a pit bull dog, oh my God! I had to sit with my thoughts for awhile, to see what would unfold, other than fear.

I was not led to call animal control as strongly suggested by friends. Those “friends” are no longer in my life by the way, and my “beautiful” dog Is. I say that speaks for itself. Oh ye of “Little Faith”… from a “perceived” growling undesirable… to the “reality” of rescuing pure and faithful love. Her Veterinarian for three years, and kennel workers say and have documented, that they just Love her because she is so sweet!

Co-mingling with others has not been a problem of hers. She has gotten along quite well with the neighborhood dogs. She and one of her pups now live inside my house, and my heart. Yes, she’s spayed now.

She has put her past behind. She adores sitting in the back seat of the car, with a grin of pure pleasure from one side of her mile wide face to the other. Her golden eyes can now look into mine with trust, instead of having to look away. I see in hers a wisdom which has passed all the tests of time. She’s a “wise old owl”, as I often refer to her, teaching me the art of surviving serenely through whatever comes, and whatever goes.