I have become a crazy dog lady. And I imagine it may only get worse.

I have always been a lover of dogs.

It started innocently enough. There was Mala. She was the pit Boxer mix I had with my ex. We rescued her from a not so pleasant home. Then we (the ex and I) added Freeway. Freeway was a Collie Shepard mix we found exiting onto Interstate 94 from Radio Dr. in Woodbury.

When my ex and I ended I was not able to take the dogs with me. An extremely sore and bitter spot. So, finding myself out on my own again, I adopted Ike my Greyhound Pointer mix from the Ramsey County Humane Society.

For a long time it was Ike and me. Then it was Ike, Mala and me. Then it was back to Ike and me (another one of those better left alone bitter and crusty spots). Without Mala something was missing. Enter Debbie. The seemingly well adjusted (albeit with some bad manners) American Staffordshire I adopted from another metro area animal rescue.

As Debbie settled into our lives it became grossly apparent that the little lady had some major issues. She was four years old when she came into our lives and while it is merely speculation on my part I am fairly certain they weren’t the best four years. Her body bore the evidence of several litters and her front legs and chest the markings of battle. As her aggression toward other dogs grew so did my doubts that Debbie was the right fit for our family.

After several pretty scary events (for which I still suffer residual PTSD) I made the decision that Debbie would be better suited in a home where she could be better managed. It was a difficult admission to make. That I - dog person extraordinaire - could not save this one. I agonized over my firm belief that taking an animal into one’s home is a life commitment. For better or worse. I felt like a failure. But Debbie’s problems were severe. I made the call to the rescue that I adopted her from.

They asked me a question. “If we were to help you get the training you would need to manage Debbie more effectively would you consider keeping her?”

I looked at Debbie lying peacefully on the floor at my feet. I looked at the palms of my hands - they had been shredded when I tried foolishly to hold on to a cord flexi as Debbie charged to attack a neighbor’s dog.

I looked back at Debbie. I hemmed and hawed. “If the change can be dramatic, I am willing.”

That was that. It was boot camp for Debbie and it was boot camp for me.

The road was not easy. The changes were not overnight. There were tears. But there was love. The kind of love you develop when you have to fight for something with your entire being. Debbie taught me rescue in it truest and purest form.

When this motley little beast and I reached a tranquil life of stability and peace I knew I wanted to work with rescued pits. Finally I was able to purchase my own home. I swear my fence hadn’t been in place more than two weeks before I was contacting pit rescues to volunteer. That brought ARLP and Bug into my life. My very first foster.

The following Spring, for whatever reason, I felt there was room to foster another. A small dog wouldn’t take up much room and really how much more work was one more going to be? I still had the Bugger mind you. Enter Chi. As in Chihuahua. Chi came from a puppy mill in Ohio. Official tally, four dogs in the home. Much to the chagrin and bewilderment of family and friends I was a failure at small dog rescue. I couldn’t even admit it for months. I had adopted the damn Chihuahua.

So my life, for much of the last twelve years, has been dogcentric. For the last three years borderline obsessive - but only to those who don’t understand this love of mine. Sitting here typing I am marveling at the brood of five dogs currently living with me. Marveling at the stupid amounts of joy they bring me even as they exhaust me. And let me tell you after a little over a week of taking care of five dogs I am exhausted. (see five dogs here - the last 6 pics on the page are of Sugga & Ora not my current brood)

But alas this is my life. The life of a crazy dog lady. I see the looks as I discuss manning booths at dog events, attending rallys, fighting breed specific legislation at the capital, going to pit bull conferences, proudly parading about in my ARLP gear, arranging doggie play dates, discussing pooh and other ailments, ahh-ing and ooh-ing over the latest photos posted on the rescue’s forum, and I even met my damn SO through rescue.

I never cease to amaze myself by my capacity to discuss dogs. I love these damn beasts! So ya - I may be a crazy dog lady but I am not alone.

All y’all ARLP-ers you be crazy too. And thank god!

Let that freak flag fly people!

Please share your crazy dog lady/ dude story and e-mail it to lara@madelineandi.com and send a picture. I would love to “out” some more of you on the blog.

Filed under: Random Thoughts