When I was a child we had Pebbles she was our Chihuahua that my uncle bought from a crack had for I believe $20 bucks. We also had a Doberman mix named Olly. I believe Olly found his way into something poisonous and died somewhere in my 4 years of age. Pebbles, however was the little ball of affection. Her small rounded head her large ears and her fearlessness of anything and anyone. She moved with us from Astoria, Queens as into our Brentwood, Long Island home.
In this time we had acquired an Alaskan Malamute we called "Lobo" on the account that he looked like a wolf. He was a crazy dog who hated being contained by fences and would often attempt scaling the fence and was successful a few times. He also tried to hump any living female dog he encountered whether they were in heat or not. We all loved Lobo, but one day upon coming home he was just gone. We couldn't tell if someone came in the yard while we were away and took him or if he successfully scaled the fence and ran away to some dog "haven" where he spent the rest of his days happy. (Once can still dream)
In the interim we had found a Doberman on our door step one day. She was affectionate and hungry. We just had lost Lobo and we still had left over dog food. We fed her and watered her and when no one claimed her we took her in and named her, "Dutchess." She became our new love and quickly fell into the family fold. She was very protective and intimidating and was a natural alarm system when visitors approached the house. She would lay down and place her head down when we had stopped to pray, which was often in a house of Jehovahs Witnesses. The only issue, we had to keep her away from Pebbles. Pebbles the first fierce Queen of the Sosa household was not to be usurped by a dog 5 times her size. No one ever told Pebbles she was a small little thing, she was grander and tougher than any Doberman that could ever enter her space.
One day I was super tired and I had went into my parents room to lay down for an afternoon nap. The room had been empty because usually we would place pebbles in there when we let Dutchess have roam of the house. After waking I got up and hazy from sleep I walked out my parents room and into the kitchen where my parents and some of my siblings were sitting chatting. Everything happened so fast, Dutchess hopped up form her bed in the kitchen ran towards me and it was too late before I looked down and saw pebbles was just stepping forward from between my legs. it was all to fast Pebbles let out a growl but Dutchess grabbed her with those Doberman jaws. The next few seconds I could only stare and hold my breath as I saw Pebbles play the part of a ragdoll in the throws of a death shake that large dogs and wolves only do to kill smaller pray and or render flesh from a fresh hunt. I don't remember how they got Pebbles out of Dutchess's mouth but I watched in further horror as pebbled tried to gain balance and walk but could not as it appeared Dutchess's front canines had impaled our precious Pebbles head and caused some major brain damage. We all were in tears and Pebbles took her last breaths in front of us and Dutchess went to lay back down as if her territory was now claimed. The raw survival and brutality of the animal world is always existent no matter how much we may intend to domesticate.
Dutchess had mated with another male Doberman and gave us a litter of 18 puppies. Who knew Dobermans came in so many colors. We had Black Dobermans, Red rust colored Dobermans, Blue silver Dobermans, and the rare Fawn Sandy colored Doberman. We sold all of these rare dogs and somewhere in the mix my mother and brother decided we should breed the dogs. Pick the best sire of the litter and find other Dobermans of various colors and create contracts with the owner of the Bitch and or Sires of the other Dobermans. From this point on we were used to having puppies in the home, seeing mothers through their pregnancies late at night or the resuscitation of puppies who may have been birthed in distress or who seemed unable to draw their first breath with ease. We learned to bottle up formula and bottle feed the runts of the litters or the puppies the mother rejected. We even had to aid a whole litter who suffered from respiratory problems due to a condition of the blood the mother Ruby, a red Doby from one of our litters had developed. It was the night we failed to save 6 remaining puppies and had to bury them in our back yard in the wee hours of the morning. I remember feeling so powerless at not being able to help these puppies after having successfully helping other litters into their new lives.
The Doberman breeding soon became too much. My mother was not in the spirit of continuing on this mission and my brother picked it up instead. He wound up finding a way to breed White Dobermans the rarest of them all. He also took up dog training and would train the dogs to react upon command. Often I would dress up in a padded suit and he would sick the dogs on me and would call them off in german commands. He extended his training to Rottweilers and German Shepherds which he would sell back to the Suffolk county police.
IN this time I was getting older and like most young teens I wanted something of my own. I wanted my own space, my own room, my own clothes, my own style, and my own pooch. It was at this time a woman we knew had found a mid size Staffordshire Terrier who was wandering the streets of Brentwood. The story was she may have escaped form some local resident who may or may not have fought dogs. The evidence was that her ears were chopped to the smallest nubs. This was explained to me a way for other dogs to not get to bite at those sensitive ear flaps if the dog fought. When I first laid eyes on this pitbull, she stole my heart. Its like we saw only each other in that small span of time we were introduced. She ran to me like she had always known me and I quickly through myself to her level and let her nuzzle close into me. Reassuring her that I was not dangerous and very much friendly. MY parents watched with smiles, but I saw that look on my mothers face that held suspicion about the breed of dog. At this point in the 90's Pits were only known for dog fighting and mauling people. I convinced my mother my responsibility factor and how much I would walk and feed this dog and they agreed as long as she got along with the dog we had at home, Apollo.
Oh Apollo.. Apollo was a fawn Doberman from the first litter Dutchess ever gave us. He became my fathers pride and joy, and my brothers as well. My brother had trained the dog exceptionally well. When we bought "pepper" my new pit bull baby home we introduced her to Apollo through a fence. They did not take to each other. Apollo puffed himself up, the ridge of his neck and back raised in threat and growls from somewhere deep in his throat. Pepper stayed put and remained alert her stance solid her stare firm. She did not back down at all but just stood her ground unafraid and willing to take what he was going to give. My brother having observed dogs in such close proximity having trained them he viewed himself as somewhat of an expert. He decided the fence allowed too much of a barrier and would not give them the actual opportunity to smell each other and interact. I thought it a horrible Idea and I was so scared to have lost this dog I already imagined spending so much time with. THe gate was opened leashes were placed on both dogs there circled each other and mock played and then the interaction of sizing one each other up because tails wagging and the two began to play fight. We all breathed out in relief.
Pepper became my best friend she cuddled me and would gentle take my hand into her mouth and place my hand in between both her paws and lick at my hand as if that was her way of holding me like perhaps she would with one of her puppies, if she were to ever have one. This dog was the sweetest dog I had ever encountered or had within our home she was docile and loving. She slept in the kitchen on her large dog pillow a few feet away from Apollo.
It all came to a head. My brother had bred Apollo with another Doberman bitch and the litter produced some beautiful fawn Dobermans. Two were left a runt we named Kojak and his brother I named Caramon. They sat I our kitchen in a large crate away from Apollo who was threatened by the two small but male pups. One day Apollo really feeling himself decided to urinate all over the cage and small puppies, a display of his dominance over his territory. Apollo was an asshole, it was plain and simple. He was like the Grumpy old man you knew lived with you but you put up with because the whole family accepted him. In my younger years Apollo once growled and cornered me to try an intimidate me. He was a 120 lbs Doberman, I decided my crazy out matched his and so I took the broom from the corner and lit that ass up. That was the first and last time Apollo tried it with me ever again. The air was off that day, there was tension in the air but I could not tell what it was or where it came from. One of the dogs had started to bark and it set Apollo off he ran towards the cage baring his teeth, to meet him was Pepper whose maternal instinct for the two puppies was in full effect. Apollo did not take kindly to her challenge and decided to attack her. This was my worst nightmare happening right in front of me. A large 120 lb Doberman and Pepper, a 75lb mid sized Pitbull fighting with all their gusto I had no other choice but to jumped in the middle trying to break this up. I grabbed them both by their collar trying to hold them apart, I paid for it with a thigh that was bit up in the confusion. I will not go into detail as even writing this causes me to tear up, but that day I was traumatized at the state of both dogs as they were finally successfully separated. They were torn and tattered, I was not given the time to really process what happened because I had a appointment that day to get my braces removed. It should have been a happy day for me. After the orthodontist office I got home only to find that Pepper was gone. I asked my parents where my dog was and they broke the news to me that they had dropped Pepper to the nearest pound. I remember time stopped and my heart just beat dully in my ears. I was in shock, my baby, my friend whom I spent nights and days cuddled with and shared in long talks as I walked her around the neighborhood.. she was gone and worse I had no say in it. I had no chance to say good bye. My last memory of her was her face bleeding and ripped open from a fight with a Doberman my parents decided to keep due to how long we already had him. The only expendable pooch was the newest one, mine. I cried and wailed and asked, "WHY??!!" in my best Nettie from color purple impression. I demanded answers I never got and I just eventually lost the will to ask any more questions.
Caramon was sold and Kojak, the runt of the litter was still around. Unfortunately he was about the dumbest dog I ever seen. He was the dog that you threw food too and he sniffed around like he just barely smelled it and couldn't find it, he would run into the wall unable to stop his momentum. I couldn't do him.. I opted to research Doberman rescue and get him in their care because I couldn't love him fresh off of losing my Pepper.
In a small window, another dog had made its presence in my life. Her name was Crystal, she was a brown and white spotted pit bull. I cannot remember where this dog even came from, and on a swift mission to come off of my loss of another pitbull I convinced my parents to allow me to keep her. Guilt, I played on their guilt. I told them about the hurt and loss I experienced with Pepper. Me and Crystal clicked like to long lost friends this was instant love. Crystal was way more energetic of a terrier than Pepper was. She was the runner and the chaser. She was my energetic baby. Here came the drama... New neighbors moved in. This was a black family who were cool but had the worst BEBE ass kids to grace this world. Those little bad ass children would torment my Crystal when she was left in the yard to run. They would throw water balloons at her or push sticks and toys through the fence taunting the poor pit until she chewed up all they placed through the fences holes. This caused her to develop a mistrust and negative disposition towards children and anyone black. When my parents decided to sell their house they suggested I find the dog a home. I cannot get into the specifics of this either but the dog wound up in my sisters care in an apartment in Manhattan.. from yard to confined elevator spaces... to this day my sister claims a woman took Crystal to a "farm" where there was plenty of room to run...
"the farm" yall, the "farm"..
Last but not least my last dog was a rust colored Dachshund named Teesa. She was a result of my Ex surprising me with a puppy. She was my little baby girl and I was gonna be the best parent to her... this resulted in me breaking up with my boyfriend of that time and having to find a place to live. Having a Dog was not making that process any easier and I made a tough decision to find her a home with someone else. I got her a home with a pet Psychic and Astrologer in Long Island, named Jane. She was mourning the loss of her Teacup Yorkie who dies after a ripe old age of 20 years. After two years she was looking for companionship and Teesa found a home with her. I visited the first 3 times as was prompted by Jane who encouraged me Teesa would always be my baby and a new home and owner did not change that. Teesa was renamed Lucy. This hurt me too much to see her and have to leave her, I think I felt how perhaps some parents feel when seeing their kids with a step parent. I couldn't handle the sadness and so I left Teesa in her new mothers hands and moved on with life. There is not a moment I do not see a Dachshund and get a little sad.
I am thankful to all the dogs I was able to have in my lifetime and the joy and affection they allowed me to experience but I cannot at this point think dogs and I just will not mix. I can have interaction with them by visiting friends with dogs. I can catch a brief glimpse of old nostalgia with mans best friend.
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