A Bit About My Girls

Finally, they're sleeping. My girls are so nuts sometimes. I swear, the sock gnomes stopped stealing my socks and decided to jack up my dogs with jet fuel. That's what I get for having two high-energy dogs in the same house. They antagonize and feed off of each others energy until they're tearing around the house like it's the freakin' Daytona 500, only more hectic.

My big girl, Tifa, is a rescue that I adopted one-and-a-half years ago from a local shelter. She was four months old and nothing but a bunch of wrinkles and a squishy face. It was love at first sight. Of course, she's a Boxer mix, so she was incredibly hyper as a puppy. She'll be two next month, and has finally calmed down and no longer makes me wish I had a secret stash of Ketamine to knock her out with. All the work I've put into her training is finally showing, and she makes me so proud.

My little girl, Cammy, isn't so little anymore. She's forty-five pounds, so still smaller than Tifa's sixty-five, but I guess she isn't what most people would think of as "little". She is a foster that I pulled from a local dog pound. She was a three-month-old bag of bones scheduled for euthanasia in two days. She looked so pathetic and so sad that I had to try to help her. She didn't deserve to die just because she was sick and they didn'thave the room or the money to make her well, and because she was born looking wrong. Cammy was labeled a Pit Bull mix at the pound, and if they don't go to a rescue or foster home, they get euthanized. I made a decision that day to make a difference in this little girl's life. I brought her home, ran tests on her, got her the medicine she needed, and made her well. I've now had her for eight months. She'll be one-year-old in August, and is still waiting for her forever home. It's not that she's not sweet, or playful, or great with EVERYBODY (including cats and little kids), it's that she has to carry the stigma of being labeled a Pit Bull mix.

Well, you know what, being a Pittie or Pit mix is a GOOD THING people! A well raised Pittie is the epidimy of a loyal, devoted, intelligent family companion and protector. I should pray that everyone in the world gets to meet a Pittie like my little girl so that this misconception of a killing machine can be broken and people can come to realize what these amazing dogs were meant to be. Yes, there are Pits that maul humans and/or animals. Why do we always want to blame the dog? Why don't we ever look at the irresponsible owners that don't socialize their dog, don't have it sexually altered, leave it on a chain it's whole life, or try to make it mean DELIBERATELY for whatever reason, or a combination of these things? Why is it always the dog? Did that dog CHOOSE to be that way? or was he made that way by the master he loves and would die to serve? Well, I need to get off this topic, it's a subject for another entry, another day.

Maybe now I can sneak out while the girls sleep on my bed and get some dishes done and maybe even some shelves painted for the kitchen.