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The love of a rescue dog : rarepuppers

The love of a rescue dog : rarepuppers

My little girl was a bait dog in a fighting ring in her first 6 months of life, and her first owner beat her mercilessly. She got loose at some point and was found wandering in the middle of summer, and my hometown is one of the hottest in the country. She was taken to the Humane Society, where I found her a few weeks later.

She had a lot of problems. She was constantly anxious, fearful, and panicky. Whenever she saw another dog she became anxious, angry, and defensive, but more than anything else, terrified. She tore my stuff up whenever I had to leave her for work. But from the instant I looked into her big, buggy brown eyes and held her little body in my arms, she was mine, and no amount of housebreaking problems or torn-up rugs could change that.

She’s recovered a lot. Her anxiety has gone down from a constant issue to a less common occurrence, and she hasn’t ripped up any of my belongings in years. It just took a lot of patience and love.

I am convinced she knows I saved her. She looks at me like I’m perfect, even though I don’t deserve it. Or at least she knows that her life is better now.