My dogs story
Terry
Terry was my first dog. One day, while visiting relatives, I discovered a heartbreaking truth—none of their puppies were meant to survive. At just five years old, the pain of that realization was as overwhelming as it is today. I couldn’t bear to leave without saving at least one of them. My mom, unable to resist, secretly smuggled him across the border for me. My dad was furious but I got to keep Terry. In the midst of a challenging childhood, he became my only ray of sunshine, my constant companion. Yet, life with my mom was unpredictable. She gave, but she also took away. When another man entered her life, Terry suddenly vanished. Later, I learned the truth: she had him shot by hunters to make room for her new marriage. Forgiveness remains an uphill battle.
Snoopy & Monty
They weren’t my dogs. When I rented a room in a house, I quickly noticed they were never taken on walks, and their food and water were often stale. When I asked about them, I discovered they didn’t belong to my roommate either. In fact, he showed little interest in their care. Their actual owner was living on the other side of the country and couldn’t take them along because he already had a "zoo" of pets there. It didn’t take long for me to step in. I started taking them on regular walks and ensuring their basic needs were met. When the owner visited, the dogs would split their time, spending half the night in his room and the other half in mine. It’s amazing how quickly they adapt and how intelligent they are.
Sailor
Sailor was a dog who could do no wrong. At the dog park, he instantly befriended every dog he met. He had a natural ability to show others how to play gently and even helped train his fellow canine friends. He had a girl friend, Zena, a sweet pit bull who quickly became his inseparable best friend. Every morning before sunrise, we’d head to the beach, and in the afternoons, we’d visit dog parks. Sailor absolutely loved swimming and chasing after wildlife, though he would never harm a single creature. In the short time we had together, he lived every moment to its fullest. Even now, his passing leaves a pain in me of mathematically impossible proportions.
Thiago
After Sailor died, I couldn’t bear to stay in the house we shared. I moved into a new house with roommates, where I encountered a severely neglected dog which may or may not have had food and water. As a result, he was highly aggressive toward other animals. I started walking and training him despite the challenges of his age and years of mistreatment. Progress was slow, but we bonded. One day at the beach, he was attacked by another dog, and a fight broke out. In the chaos of trying to separate them, he accidentally bit me. This happened just before my scheduled cancer surgery, so I had to disclose the source of the wound. Because he already had a dangerous dog tag, he was euthanized shortly after. It was a heartbreaking and undeserved end. I lived with him and two other males, Stuvie and Matteo, for a year without any incidents.
Stuvie
When Thiago was still alive, his owner brought yet another dog into the home—a young puppy who received no attention nor training. Immediately I changed that. I renamed him Stuvie, a blend of "Stevia" and "Truvia", because he was naturally so sweet. When I eventually moved out, the owner handed both dogs over to me, and I happily accepted them. Stuvie was incredibly loyal and just wanted to be by my side. Despite his intimidating appearance, he had a gentle soul and couldn’t harm as much as a fly. He became Sailor's descendant—playful, extremely smart and full of a charm that brought me so much joy. I miss him dearly.
Matteo
I lived with Stuvie and Thiago in a house with a large yard. One day, Matteo appeared out of nowhere. I let him play with my dogs for a while, but he refused to leave. With no sign of an owner in sight, I decided to take him in temporarily while trying to figure out where he came from. During one of our walks, a truck pulled up, and the driver—who had a rough vibe—wanted to know why I had his dog. He claimed to live in the neighborhood, but I had never seen any missing dog posters or signs. I confronted him about it, and after a tense moment, he simply drove off, saying I could keep him. Later, I asked around and learned that Matteo had a tough start to life. As a puppy, he was chained outside in the blistering heat, neglected for months. It was heartbreaking to hear. I had him neutered and welcomed him into my home permanently. It was the natural choice—he had already become part of the family.
Aloe
After Stuvies’ passing, I began volunteering for a dog-focused non-profit. Initially, I intended to help with their IT needs, but I soon found myself involved in the adoption process—something I didn’t fully agree with. When people adopted dogs from foreign countries and later realized they couldn’t handle them or simply didn’t like them, there was no proper safety net in place. There were no facilities to separate the overwhelmed owners from the confused and unwanted dogs, and foster homes were in short supply. This creates immense stress for the animals. Imagine enduring a long journey, arriving in an unfamiliar environment, only to feel unwelcome once again. One silver lining from my time there was Aloe, a dog I initially fostered. I named her after the Aloe Vera plant, known for its healing properties, as I was still mourning Stuvies’ loss. When Aloe first came to me, she was terrified of everything. Those early days were tough, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her having to adapt to yet another new situation after all the progress we made. So, I kept her. Over time, she blossomed into a confident—though still slightly cautious—young lady, full of energy and curiosity.
