4 years ago this little guy, along with his 10 siblings, came into my clinic. It was shady, the client says 'someone stole the mom' and the babies weren't taking to bottles. She was overwhelmed with 11 4 week old pitbull/rottweiler puppies and begged us to take some. Technically we don't take strays, dumped pets, etc. I looked at all the adorable puppies and saw him. He was sleeping and smaller than most of his siblings. I looked at his face and saw his little raccoon mask. I said 'damn the consequences' and took him. I was the only sucker who did. I'm not sure what happened to the rest, the client's old school mom was talking about old methods of docking their tails [they were way too old for us to do it, also, money was an issue]. I looked horrified and told her not to do it.
I took him home, my SO was less than thrilled. I mean, I only had Duke and Pepper, so it wasn't like I had a house full. I said it was only to foster him. So here I was, with a 4 week old puppy. I spoiled the hell out of him. I had him for about a month, and one of my coworkers said she'd take him. I was so sad when I gave him up. I cried a lot. She took good care of him though, got him all his vaccines, got him neutered, and gave him a good home with kids to play with. I must have done something right because she said he was quiet and submissive and a very good dog. I saw him once more when he was about a year old, he had grown to about 70lbs. He remembered me, and I cried more.
Why didn't I keep him? I was in the process of foreclosure and it was difficult enough taking a 65lb dog and a cat along to wherever I was going, let alone another dog who would be about 80lb full grown. He was by far my most difficult foster to let go of.
