Many pets are adopted each year with the expectation that they’ve found their “furever” home. Sometimes, the story has a happy ending. All too often, however, animals are returned to the shelter or given away because the new owner wasn’t prepared to care for them.
This is Belle’s story. Belle started out life as an unwanted puppy and was given to me because her owner couldn’t provide for her. Nothing about her story went the way I expected it to go, but I decided that no matter what, I wouldn’t give up on her.
I adopted Belle when she was about 4 months old. Her previous owner had lots of dogs. He couldn’t afford lots of dogs. He didn’t have time for lots of dogs. Thankfully, he reached out for help before he got into a hoarding situation.
When we arrived, it was raining.
My best friend went with me because, well, meeting strange men alone because they promised you a puppy isn’t the wisest decision in the world. The yard smelled bad. It wasn’t hard to tell why. The dog pen was out back. The baby of the bunch had no name, although I was told that this was her second owner. She didn’t really stand a chance against the bigger dogs when they had to fight for food. She was skinny and her fur was thin. They all had fleas but most of the dogs seemed fed, at least.
The man told me she was pit/rottweiler. I could immediately tell that was false but didn’t argue. He got her out of the pen. I put a collar on her and tried to lead her around. The puppy was too afraid to move. I knew I would have my work cut out for me.
My best friend carried her to my (almost brand-new) truck and we let that muddy, shaking, flea bitten mutt ride shotgun all the way home. We were in love with her.
I often joke that my house is “White’s Flea Bath and Pet Rescue.” I should really have a sign made. A flea bath will do wonders for a pet.
I’m not sure Belle looked any better after her bath, but she sure smelled better. She had the short fur and build of a pit, but she had the ears of a hound. I’ll never know for sure what breed she is, but that’s something I decided was unimportant. At the time, she was less than 20 pounds and I could nearly count her ribs.
She wasn’t pretty or even healthy. She had constant diarrhea. I assumed the hair loss was from the fleas. I was also fairly certain she was anemic. There were lots of fleas. Luckily, I had just bought a house and removed all the carpet. I didn’t even have couches. I barely had furniture. This all helped make the flea problem a short-lived one.
I named her Belle (Beauty) out of hope that she would one day be beautiful. At the time I named her, she was a half-bald, itchy, skinny pup. I like to think she grew into her name.
I got rid of her fleas and fed her well for a couple of weeks before bringing her to the vet (what are they gonna do, tell me she has fleas and is underweight?) Even though she had gained some weight and her ribs weren’t quite so visible, her condition raised some eyebrows. She was examined, weighed, wormed, and brought up to date on her shots. After taking her history, the vet told me I was doing the right things and that he could spay her at 6 months old.
Things did not go as smoothly as planned. Even though her worms had been treated, she still had watery stools. Even though she had been flea-free for a while, her fur just wasn’t growing in right. And she scratched all the time.
The next vet trip ruled the scratching and thin fur a flea allergy. Since she was now on flea and heart worm prevention, we thought it would sort itself out. It didn’t. Since a Google search is considerably less money than a vet visit, I decided to try to eliminate grains from her diet. She had her first solid poop a few days later.
By the time she was old enough to be spayed, her fur was growing in. She almost looked healthy when she went in for surgery.
On her first birthday (a guesstimate of St. Patrick’s Day-ish), she was a healthy, happy puppy. I was so proud of her progress. Visitors to my house, on the other hand, were not. She still wasn’t completely potty trained, and no matter what I did, she always jumped on and scratched people.
Looking back, I’m sure the transition from yard dog to beloved pet set her potty training back significantly. Her previous owner told me she had never been in a house before. At first, I was a patient potty trainer. After 8 months, I was growing more frustrated after every accident. There were days I completely understood why people give away dogs who are difficult to potty train. But I wouldn’t give up. By this time, I was also dating my now-husband, and he gave me lots of advice because his dog had been difficult as a puppy, too.
Whatever breed she’s mixed with (some kind of bird dog maybe?) must be very high-energy. Belle hasn’t calmed down since she got healthy. It’s like she’s powered by a motor that never stops. She even runs in her sleep. She learned basic commands in a heartbeat (wayyy before she was potty trained), but still, the jumping persisted.
It wasn’t until recently that I could confidently open my door to a visitor. While Belle no longer jumps full-force onto everyone she sees, she still likes to raise herself up on her back legs and will place her paws on someone to greet them. She has stopped jumping on my husband and I, for the most part. It’s refreshing to only really have to worry about her under unusual circumstances.
There are two issues that persist, but my husband and I are tackling them each day. We put pet gates up on the bedrooms because we couldn’t stop her from eating cat litter and peeing on the bed. I feel guilty for not letting her sleep on the bed like she used to, but hopefully this will give her time to mature and we can someday allow her on the bed again.
Naturally, I thought Belle peeing on the bed was a potty training issue at first. Given her history of trouble in that area, I thought peeing on the bed was the last step in potty training. Eventually, we figured out that it was more closely connected to her separation anxiety than it was to her potty training difficulties. Now that we’re working on that more intently, she seems to be a much happier puppy.
Belle was certainly not what I expected. I wanted a pit/rottweiler to be my guard dog, but I got a hyper bird dog with allergies who peed on everything I loved for almost a year. It would have been easy to give her away, like her previous two owners, but persistence and patience paid off. As I type this, Belle is lying to my left: happy, content, with a full coat of fur, with her leg doing the cutest little kick as she chases what I can only presume is a squirrel in her puppy dreams.
I love my sweet Belle girl. I have no doubt about it: she was worth every moment of sweat, blood, and tears. She was worth every vet visit. She was worth the potty training nightmare and the seemingly endless flea baths. She is worth more than her expensive allergen-free food. I have a loyal companion until the end of her days, and she’s even a pretty good guard dog, too.
Pets & Poetry 