I grew up in a dog family. Lots of dogs. Lots. Troy, Mutley, Sam, Mandy, Snoopy. Jenna and Beau were my first pups that I adopted when I had moved out on my own. Zero was actually my first shelter but he lasted only a few days unfortunately. The dog was insane. I found him a good home though. Jenna and Beau were small rescues, a Cockapoo and a Bichon, great dogs who I also had to give away after a few years because of my work schedule. I just couldn’t be there enough for them. Jenna went to my parents and Beau to a great friend of mine. Both dogs lasted loyally to their end, almost 18 years old each. They were wonderful animals and friends.
My next buddy would be a magnificent animal named Diablo. A huge Rottweiler that I got as a pup. He was twelve weeks old when I picked him up and our journey together was awesome. I specifically wanted a Rottweiler to offer protection in my store in North Philadelphia. As he grew larger and more intimidating, I enrolled him in a twelve week obedience and attack training school which he would stay at for the duration. I was allowed to visit and train alongside of him every two weeks until he graduated. Worth every penny. I dropped Diablo off as an unassuming, sweet pup and got back a killing machine. Trained in German commands, he could be turned on and off in an instant and was remarkably obedient in every way. Also, the same lovable, sweet dog I dropped off three months before, when he was home with our family. The transformation was truly remarkable. When he attacked the handlers in training he was scary. Diablo went to work with me everyday, relaxing behind the counter and I even pierced his ear with a diamond stud! Everyone loved that. I would have one of the Philadelphia Police canine officers come into the store, every six months, and act nefariously and Diablo would launch himself over the counter and attack him. Of course, the officer wore protection. I will not go into detail, but Diablo handled some serious business that saved my ass two times. Like I said, “Worth every penny!”. Diablo became another casualty of my Leukemia and we had to give him away before my bone marrow transplant. Lori could not handle him with everything going on. It broke our hearts. He retired to a great home with kids and his new owner, a Philadelphia police officer. After I recovered from my transplant, maybe about two years later, we got to visit him and Nick got to hug his buddy while Joey got to meet him too. I got a sad call that he had passed from cancer a little while later.
Soon after, we decided it was time to have another dog join the family… Jackie. She was a crazy Jack Russell terrier that you would think was drinking Monster energy drinks 24 hours a day…I was warned. We crated her to no avail. Every morning we would wake up she was caked in poop. Awful. She could jump straight up in the air like four feet horizontally and grab things off of the kitchen counter! Jackie didn’t last long. One day, the boys were playing with her in Joey’s room. I heard a huge thud. Nick screamed that Jackie…”Was Dead!” I ran upstairs and found out that she nipped Joe when he picked her up and he had inadvertently thrown her into the wall. Joe was about five years old at the time. Jackie wasn’t dead, she was out cold. OMG! We found her a great home with my employee Becky. Becky and her husband Johnny were seniors. Jackie was a loyal companion to them and outlasted both of them. It was a perfect fit. They adored her.
Next up was Sarge. The boys were a little older now and I saw his picture in the local newspaper on Christmas eve. An older Redbone Coonhound with a grey beard, I thought that maybe an older rescue would be the ticket. I went early that morning to see him since it was like the busiest day of the year for me. The SPCA employee told me that this was the end for him because he was there over six months and was abandoned to them from a family that was relocating. The employees loved him there. Sarge was a gentleman. He walked on the leash very obediently and was very lovable. I brought him to work and then home afterwards to the boys delight. The first night he proceeded to chew the moulding off of our office door until I went downstairs and let him out. He took off upstairs and promptly went to sleep at the foot of our bed. Problem solved. We only had Sarge for nine months. He tried to steal a piece of pizza from Joey, almost biting his hand off. This was not normal for him. I took him to the Vet the next day only to find out that his former owners had dropped him off at the SPCA because he had cancer, nobody knew. The tumor that they found on his spleen was the size of a football. I couldn’t even take him home to say goodbye to the boys. Sarge had to be put down right away. It was a sad day. The vet brought him into his office where I said my goodbyes. He wagged his tail and licked my face. So sad. We would wait a while before getting our next pet. It was hard on us all.
Next up: Bear