My rescue dog was a GSD mix with (we think) rottweiler. The story told us by the shelter was that he was found at two months old, adopted out almost immediately, and returned to the shelter at ten months old. He was absolutely terrified of everything; a moving shrubbery on our first walk together almost made it our last as he bolted, almost taking the leash out of my hand. I doubt he'd have stopped before swimming to China. The family who had adopted him before us had probably beat him every day they had him.

It took two good years of patience and training but he turned into an outstanding dog. He was great with the children and protective of my family. On two occasions I know of his fierce bark persuaded men that this wasn't the right house for them to victimize.

When he was eight we got a black lab puppy. We had some concern that he wouldn't be pleased that we introduced another animal into our house, but the puppy immediately became his dog and they got along famously. More than once when I called them both to me and the puppy was being obstreperous, the senior dog would grab him by the collar and drag him over. "Get it together, the boss is calling!"

At the age of ten he had been fit as a fiddle but started to be a bit lethargic for reasons unknown. It was less than twenty-four hours from when the tumor was found until he died in his sleep.