Once upon a time I was a normal person with one dog and two cats.  One night I was sitting on the couch, wasting time on facebook as I am known to do, when I saw a posting from someone about an elderbull named Cypha at the NYC ACC.  The post was via a page on facebook called "Urgent Part 2" which is made up of volunteers who advocate on behalf of the dogs of death row in the New York City shelter system.  It's a crazy world unto itself where every night they post "the list" of the dogs scheduled to be killed the following day, and rescue groups, people called "cross-posters" and just concerned citizens, share, pledge and try to rescue as many of those dogs as possible.  Cypha was an 8 year old dog who had been within the ACC system for an unheard of 3 months and who had managed to survive "the list" a couple of times, and had been transferred at one point from the Brooklyn shelter to what is considered the safer shelter in Staten Island.  

I had had the thought of rescuing a senior male pit and on that particular night as I looked at Cypha's face and read his profile I thought, sure, let's go for it.  They said he was a mellow guy but there was no information as to whether he could live with cats.  He had been surrendered due to "landlord issues" which is a sad and common story due to discriminatory housing policies against pit bulls but also other large dogs.   This is a link to his original posting.  I asked a few questions, was put in touch with a wonderful woman named Jackie who volunteered at the SI shelter and had met Cypha, and she put me in touch with a rescue group who would "pull him" for me on a foster to adopt basis (just in case the whole cat thing didn't work out).  

I did the necessary paperwork, reference checks, home check etc and Cypha was scheduled to be neutered and then delivered to me in a few days.  I ended up picking him up unneutered because a hurricane was headed our way and they were evacuating the SI shelter and moving all the dogs to Brooklyn.  I made a plea and was able to pick him up the morning before the storm hit.   My Mom and I drove to Staten Island and I will never forget the first time I saw him.  He was bigger and stronger than I thought, and after 3 mos in the shelter he was a little bit shut down and afraid to look at me. 

We headed back to Long Island with Cy (I decided to just shorten up his name) and in the car he ignored me but at one point made eye contact with my Mom.  We got home and did a very rushed intro with Rory out in the street, transitioned to the backyard and fortunately, they took to each other right away!  Here they are during the hurricane watching out the front door as the rain was picking up.   We still kept a leash on Cy for a few days and seperated them when I wasn't home etc but they never had an issue these two.

Now acclimating Cy with my two cats at the time Henry and Jake was a whole other issue, one that I will write about in another post because teaching dogs to live with cats is something I have done twice now.  I will say that it was 2 month process in which for the safety of the cats, Cy was kept separate from them.  Today I can say both Cy and Rory could give two shits about cats in the house and truthfully, they are afraid of them!   

Fast forward now 2 1/2 years and my old man is about 11 years old.  He is one of the great loves of my life for sure and while I wish he had never lost his home in the first place, I am so grateful he came into my life.  He is a smart, stable, loving dog and the favorite among most of my female houseguests.  In particular he has stolen the heart of our petsitter Beth who considers him to be a son.  He now has another baby sister Cookie who adores him and doesn't leave him alone for a second.  He loves to share food with me (when he first came home he was very leery of people food) and eats everything from kale stalks to bananas, pizza crusts, cherry tomatoes, carrots and his favorite, peanut butter.  He loves to lick the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and he loves taking a walk in the morning with his two sisters.  He follows me from room to room no matter what, even when I vacuum.  When we go to the vet all the vet techs come out into the waiting room to say hi to him.  

Sadly my old man has been battling stage 3 mast cell tumors for about 6 months now and he's finally starting to slow down.  He is so strong and tough, and aside from the giant tumor he has right now you would think he is a young guy.   I will write a post about cancer someday soon but for now just wanted to tell you all about my boy, and ask you if you can to say a prayer for him.   I also want to encourage anyone reading this to consider adopting a senior dog.  As much as I love my young guys, adopting a senior is such a gift.  A gift to the dog you rescue but also a gift and blessing for your life.  

Since the name of the blog is "I Have a Pit Bull" it probably makes sense that I tell you about my dogs.  Yes, I have a pit bull, two in fact.  Although really, like many pit bulls, while people look at them and say "pit bull," the truth is, they are mixed breeds, mutts even.  

One of my favorite TV shows of all times is "Gilmore Girls" a beautiful and quirky series about the bond between a mother and a daughter.  On the show, the mother and daughter have a tradition where every year, on the daughter Rory's birthday, the mom, Lorelai, tells Rory the story of her birth.  I do a similarly weird thing, where I like to tell my dogs (yes I talk to them) the story of how they came to be mine and of the first time I saw them.  And so it will not surprise you that the first dog I ever adopted where I was the mama (not a family dog), I named Rory.  Here she is pictured about a day or two after coming home. 

I first saw Rory in the month of October, just one month after a devastating breakup with my boyfriend.  I had moved out from his apartment and was living with my parents, sleeping on a blow up bed in the basement.  To call me fragile at this point in my life was an understatement.  I had been volunteering for many years and walking dogs every Sunday with a group called For Our Friends.  That Sunday I was told people were bringing by a dog they found as a stray.  She had been living in their basement for a couple of weeks.  They said they tried to keep her but their dog was not accepting of her.  They pulled up and this little brindle dog hopped out of the car, very serious looking, not more than 40 lbs.  We did our usual evaluation and determined that we would take her.  They called her Brownie.   She was about 7 or 8 months old. 

I took her for a little walk and already my head was planning and plotting if I could take her home.  Keep in mind I had been working with dogs for years but this was the first one who had me really seriously thinking.  I think the timing had a lot to do with it and also maybe a little bit of fate.  I had two cats at the time, was living at my parents house as I said, where we had a senior dog, a labrador retriever named Sydney,  who was 9 years old at the time and my parents had a cat as well.  I decided I would take it slow but first things first, I asked the president of the rescue if we could call her Rory and to my excitement, she said yes!  That day as I put her into her cage, she fought me like crazy although never tried to bite, and I said goodbye until the following week.  

I remember the second week I met her,  this one male volunteer had taking a liking to her and was walking her all week and he came that Sunday.  He remarked about how smart she was and how she seemed to listen to people when they talked and I watched and saw that he was right, as people spoke to each other her eyes would dart back and forth to the person who was speaking.   And her ears would stand up and move like antennas.  

Finally I was able to get agreement with my family to bring her home.  She was spayed and vaccinated and she was ready to go.  My Dad came with me to the animal hospital where we picked her up.  I will never forget that day, me and my Rory riding in the back while my Dad drove.  From there well there were many ups and downs with my girl, months of getting her not to chase cats, lots of training, quite a few tears, but mostly love.  She and Sydney bonded quickly and were good buddies until I moved away.  Now Rory is 5 and she will always be my baby girl.   She is super smart, alert, sensitive, affectionate and very obedient at home but is a fearful dog out in the world.  I will definitely post more about Rory's challenges in another blog.  But I accept her as a whole, just as she accepts me.