In my last blog about a particularly stressful week last August, I mentioned the pit bull puppy that was abandoned at my elderly mom’s house.
When he first showed up, you could count all his ribs. He wanted to be friendly and loved, but you could tell he was scared, too. He would come close to you, but if you put your hand out, he would skitter away.
After a couple of weeks we could pet him, but he was still nervous. And have you ever seen a puppy that didn’t know how to play? If you threw a ball or a stick, he would look at it and then back at you with those big soulful eyes, as if to say, “I know you want me to do something, and I want to make you happy, but what…?”
By October we all adored him, but…even at six months old (by the vet’s estimate) he was almost bigger than my tiny mom. We worry constantly about her falling and breaking a hip, and as Pete settled in and became his normal exuberant, happy self, we figured the day would definitely come when he would jump up to greet her—and one good jump would do the trick.
Also, my mom feeds stray cats—has for all my life. She was very upset because Pete was gobbling up all the food she put out for the ferals, and we were all afraid he would hurt either them or our babies. After all, he was a pit bull. Shudder. Again, an accident waiting to happen.
But what to do with him?
We had heard all the vicious pit bull scary stories, but now that we had one to care for, we started to hear the other side of the story. For example, there was the rescue group that wouldn’t have anything to do with pit bulls. Supposedly their insurance wouldn’t allow it.
Others gave us dire warnings about giving him away, because unscrupulous people often pretend to be nice to get their hands on a dog like Pete for fighting…or for bait to train their fighting dogs.
One extremely nice rescue group said we could bring Pete to their adoption days at PetsMart and at local festivals, as long as we stayed with him, and as long as he was up to date on shots and heartworm prevention and was neutered.
Getting all that done took a few weeks. And the first event we took him to was a total bust. Sadly, I think there were more dogs up for adoption than there were people to look at them.
And so we came to mid October. Pete was up-to-date and ready to be adopted, and the rescue group said that coming Saturday would probably do the trick. They were doing an adoption event at an outdoor festival where they always had good attendance and good luck. The weather would be beautiful, so a great turnout was expected. We were a little conflicted about seeing Pete go, but still, we were sure it was for the best.
The night before the event, the lady in charge of the rescue event called to tell me she had had a death in the family and wouldn’t be able to do the festival—and that the other volunteers had conflicts. So for the first time they could remember, they would not be doing an adoption event at that festival.
It was going to be about three weeks before the next adoption event. The whole thing was stressing us a lot. We adored that sweet dog, who by now was bursting with love and personality, and we were terrified of him falling into the wrong hands. But we had no fence and there was traffic on the highway. And, you know…our little mother…and the cats…
There is an entry in my prayer journal from the last Saturday in October that says “Guidance about Pete.” We all felt torn, so I think we were all praying that God would guide us to the right solution—and if adoption was the answer, to the right home for Pete. He deserved it.
The next day, Sunday, it seemed as though God had answered! The son and daughter-in-law of a dear church friend wanted Pete. We knew they were good people, we knew he would be a cherished pet. On Monday, Pete went to his new home, and I was assuming that God had sent guidance and this was Pete’s destiny…even though I felt a little sad. And my sister, who had always said people were crazy to own such dangerous dogs, said she cried after he was gone.
Two days later, we found out that Pete had run away from his new home.
And this is where the story gets really amazing.
But…this blog post is running hideously long, so tune in next time for the rest of Pete’s story.