December 23, 2005 is the day he arrived. Scheduled to die in Camarillo shelter for being born deaf; they don't adopt out deaf pit-bull type dogs because shelters lack the screening process to insure that they won't become bait dogs for fighting rings. The thought process is that human euthanasia, even if only a three month old puppy, is kinder than a non-screened adoption.
I don't remember how we learned of his need to be rescued, but we did, just like 600 others who had "urgent needs" and "will die tomorrow by 5pm." He was one of many in need but he crossed our path so the transport train began and he was pulled out of the shelter, and brought to my home for fostering. He came with the name Charlie; a three month old pit bull, bilaterally deaf. He was listed for adoption on petfinder, adopt-a-pet and our website. The socialization process, hand-sign training and search for his forever home began. That home was found, approved and notified in February but something happened to my heart... it couldn't let go. After the investment of sitting on top of this puppy's fifty pound body to let him know in no uncertain terms that baring his teeth at another dog was not acceptable. The special hand signs created just for him so that one hand would always remain on his leash. The extra socialization of messing with him while he ate, while he slept, the effort to make him "bomb-proof" and unable to be startled and the absolute zero tolerance for any signs of aggression. I committed the fail of all fails in dog fostering 101. I declined his adoption from being placed into a perfectly qualified home in order to commit my first act of Foster Failure. He was renamed Louie by his shelter puller and transporter. The name stuck and has never been changed despite being asked by almost everyone who meets him "why bother naming a deaf dog?"
He was very bright, easily trained and, like any rebellious pup, would look away from my hands when he didn't feel like listening because if he saw my closed fist in from of his snout, he couldn't prevent his butt from "sitting" on the ground. I've never taught him any tricks just found immense pride in knowing that my deaf, fifty pound American Bulldog puppy was completely obedience trained with the gesture of one, right hand.
The twins were seven and a half and the baby was three and a half when he joined us as a forever family member. His patience of all things manifested very quickly. His tolerance of toddler antics, his love for all creatures, his absolute love and adoration for my children. There has never been any doubt that I made the right decision in adding this dog to my home as a permanent, very large fixture.
He joined our Christmas cards, our family outings, our daily adventures. He even became the icon of my dog rescue lending his image, whether he had a choice or not, to many campaigns. I may have been ahead of my time, but my "all breed rescue" always included bully breeds, we did not have nor use a disclaimer that we rescued "all breeds" with a small disclaimer that "we couldn't include pit bull type dogs due to insurance issues." We meant it when we stated "All Breeds, All Ages, All Sizes" and gained national attention for being one of the first "all breed rescues" that meant what we said and said what we meant.
What I didn't know was that he would become a therapy dog for my children. What I didn't know is that he'd inspire my BullNannies' Program. What I didn't know was how a dog could provide unconditional love to children who struggled daily with sensory issues. What I didn't know was the commitment of which I was capable, the stubbornness and fortitude I could teach my children who would never grasp the emotion of empathy (according to their diagnostic physicians). What I didn't know is how he would become the only consistent thing in our lives through 15 moves, two divorces, one home foreclosure and the daily struggles of single-motherhood. What I didn't know, seven years ago, when I committed to him, was what gifts he would bring to our lives.
“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”~C.G. Jung
Life with Louie, Deaf Dog Extraordinaire, has not been easy - far from it. When he became defensive aggressive at sixteen months due to being attacked by another foster dog in our care. How he would never be a dog-park or dog-beach dog. How he would come to love pizza so much that he would literally attack a dog within ten feet for it. How he would become so fond of our chickens, ducklings, rabbits and kittens that he would defend them from attack from any predators, to his detriment, hundreds of stitches later and thousands in vet bills to repair the damage from his protective nature.
What I didn't know was that I would become a renter and have to search for months to find a home to live in that would permit us to include our family member. The extra deposits, insurance and time to prove that our dog was not a risk or liability to our landlords. What I didn't know was the complete and utter unconditional love that he would not only shower us with, but that he would teach me.
What I didn't know was how hard one could fall for a creature that couldn't speak to you, much less hear a word that escaped my lips. What I didn't know was how hard I could fall for a pair of amber eyes.
What I am not ready for is for this part of my life to end. What I was not at all prepared for was discovering a lump during a routine bathing that would spiral my emotions out of control in having to face the inevitable loss of a creature that I have committed to.
I have offered safety, rescue and commitment to over six hundred dogs in my lifetime. I have saved many but only one has saved me.
I can and do handle many things but I can't lose my Louie; not here, not now. He's not done helping me raise my children yet. I can't have moved into 900 square feet, sleeping on a twin mattress on the living room floor and paying extra rent because it was the place I found after six months of searching that would permit and provide residence to have my entire family remain intact. I can't tell my kids that the end of the ONE thing that has been a constant in our lives may not see them through high school. I cannot break it to my son who plans to take him off to college. I cannot handle this. I will not permit this loss - not after everything I've been through with him. Not without a fight.
All I can ask for today are prayers and well wishes. All I can do is appreciate every moment I have left with the love of my life, the biggest commitment I have ever made, and the best friend of my children.
All I can ask for is a miracle.
I don't remember how we learned of his need to be rescued, but we did, just like 600 others who had "urgent needs" and "will die tomorrow by 5pm." He was one of many in need but he crossed our path so the transport train began and he was pulled out of the shelter, and brought to my home for fostering. He came with the name Charlie; a three month old pit bull, bilaterally deaf. He was listed for adoption on petfinder, adopt-a-pet and our website. The socialization process, hand-sign training and search for his forever home began. That home was found, approved and notified in February but something happened to my heart... it couldn't let go. After the investment of sitting on top of this puppy's fifty pound body to let him know in no uncertain terms that baring his teeth at another dog was not acceptable. The special hand signs created just for him so that one hand would always remain on his leash. The extra socialization of messing with him while he ate, while he slept, the effort to make him "bomb-proof" and unable to be startled and the absolute zero tolerance for any signs of aggression. I committed the fail of all fails in dog fostering 101. I declined his adoption from being placed into a perfectly qualified home in order to commit my first act of Foster Failure. He was renamed Louie by his shelter puller and transporter. The name stuck and has never been changed despite being asked by almost everyone who meets him "why bother naming a deaf dog?"
The twins were seven and a half and the baby was three and a half when he joined us as a forever family member. His patience of all things manifested very quickly. His tolerance of toddler antics, his love for all creatures, his absolute love and adoration for my children. There has never been any doubt that I made the right decision in adding this dog to my home as a permanent, very large fixture.What I didn't know was that he would become a therapy dog for my children. What I didn't know is that he'd inspire my BullNannies' Program. What I didn't know was how a dog could provide unconditional love to children who struggled daily with sensory issues. What I didn't know was the commitment of which I was capable, the stubbornness and fortitude I could teach my children who would never grasp the emotion of empathy (according to their diagnostic physicians). What I didn't know is how he would become the only consistent thing in our lives through 15 moves, two divorces, one home foreclosure and the daily struggles of single-motherhood. What I didn't know, seven years ago, when I committed to him, was what gifts he would bring to our lives.
“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”~C.G. Jung
Life with Louie, Deaf Dog Extraordinaire, has not been easy - far from it. When he became defensive aggressive at sixteen months due to being attacked by another foster dog in our care. How he would never be a dog-park or dog-beach dog. How he would come to love pizza so much that he would literally attack a dog within ten feet for it. How he would become so fond of our chickens, ducklings, rabbits and kittens that he would defend them from attack from any predators, to his detriment, hundreds of stitches later and thousands in vet bills to repair the damage from his protective nature.
What I didn't know was that I would become a renter and have to search for months to find a home to live in that would permit us to include our family member. The extra deposits, insurance and time to prove that our dog was not a risk or liability to our landlords. What I didn't know was the complete and utter unconditional love that he would not only shower us with, but that he would teach me.
What I didn't know was how hard one could fall for a creature that couldn't speak to you, much less hear a word that escaped my lips. What I didn't know was how hard I could fall for a pair of amber eyes.
What I am not ready for is for this part of my life to end. What I was not at all prepared for was discovering a lump during a routine bathing that would spiral my emotions out of control in having to face the inevitable loss of a creature that I have committed to.
I have offered safety, rescue and commitment to over six hundred dogs in my lifetime. I have saved many but only one has saved me.“The only way love can last a lifetime is if it's unconditional. The truth is this: love is not determined by the one being loved but rather by the one choosing to love.” ~Stephen Kendrick
I can and do handle many things but I can't lose my Louie; not here, not now. He's not done helping me raise my children yet. I can't have moved into 900 square feet, sleeping on a twin mattress on the living room floor and paying extra rent because it was the place I found after six months of searching that would permit and provide residence to have my entire family remain intact. I can't tell my kids that the end of the ONE thing that has been a constant in our lives may not see them through high school. I cannot break it to my son who plans to take him off to college. I cannot handle this. I will not permit this loss - not after everything I've been through with him. Not without a fight.
All I can ask for today are prayers and well wishes. All I can do is appreciate every moment I have left with the love of my life, the biggest commitment I have ever made, and the best friend of my children.
All I can ask for is a miracle.
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