Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Stigma, Schmigma

Over the weekend, we adopted one of the sweetest, smartest, most wonderful dogs I've ever met. She is 10 months old, has been handled very gently and lovingly by her foster keeper, and has already been thru obedience training.

When people ask what kind of dog we got, I always get the same reaction. "Oh." And not in a good way. One person even went so far as to say, "Oh, no..." These dogs have such a poor reputation and its because of the way they've been treated by people. How sad is that? So I tell them she is an American Staffordshire Terrier. Not a pit bull.

It really matters not a whit to me, because I love HER, not her "type". I'm already tired of feeling like I need to defend her because of her breeding.

I'd been wanting a dog for a couple of months now, for an exercise companion and a general companion. I mean, I love my cats, but there's just something so special about a really wonderful dog in your life. I've been looking at the local animal shelter site for a while, and I kept going back to this picture.

So, Saturday we went down to Waldport to meet her. We took to her watch the Beachcomber Days parade with us. She was perfectly well-behaved.


She has taken a liking to the porch swing, which we had to move off the deck this morning after a clumsy mishap spilled one of my favorite plants and broke the pot.
I think she's settling in just fine.
She's here at the studio with me today, and I have dog run materials to install for her so she can loll around in the backyard while I slave away in order to buy her food and snacks and toys - and continuing education.

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