A Hopeful Tail

Everyone- well, most people- says that all pit bulls are mean and that they’re just a bad breed, an undesirable creature. I am here to tell you otherwise. Some of you may run in fright at the sight of me, even if I am just walking down the street. You see, even though I am young, two years young exactly, I may look old because I am speckled with brown and tan. My eyes will always look young though. They are my favorite part of myself, a beautiful and striking electrical blue, if I may say so myself. Let me explain further: I am one of those mean, bad, and undesirable creatures; I am a pit bull, and my name is Hope.
So you know I am two years old, have a brown and tan coat, and electric blue eyes. I will also tell you that I can be shy at first, but once I get to know you, I’ll be the most loyal dog you’ve ever had. But what you don’t know is my past.
The words I’ll never forget, the words I wanted to believe were always going to be true, even when I came to know they never would be again- at least not from him:
“I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Those words came out of William’s mouth when he adopted me, but I don’t think he ever really knew what they meant. That first day was complete bliss. He took me to his house in Little Rock, Arkansas, on a sunny May twenty-first. It was a basic, one story house, but it had the potential of becoming a home which made it a palace. He kept his blue pickup truck in the garage next to his basketball hoop, and there was a nice little yard out back. My teeth were my namesake; after seeing them, William named me Smiler, with an official name tagged collar and everything. We were inseparable. Then the alcohol came, which eventually came to mean neglect, abuse, and fright to me. He was alright when he was sober, but once he started drinking… I hated having to protect myself against whatever was in William’s hand. I knew our situation wasn’t right, but I couldn’t leave my person.
Eventually, the neighbor called the Gentle Souls Pit Bull Rescue in Little Rock to report my condition. A woman named Mary came to check up on me. Her hair was dark and pulled back in a ponytail under a Gentle Souls baseball cap. Her eyes were a kind but serious deep blue. She had big broad shoulders, which made her look strong enough to take on William even when he was drunk. William answered the door and by the look on her face, we both knew she meant business.
“Is this your dog?” she asked.
“Yes… it is… why?” William answered hesitantly. “Who are you anyway?”
“My name is Mary, and I’m from the Gentle Souls Pit Bull Rescue,” she paused, “We were called because we have reason to believe this dog is being abused, which is a major issue that needs to be dealt with immediately. Is it true that you abuse your dog, Mister…?”
“You can call me William. Look lady, --I mean-- ma’am,” he made the correction quickly at the expression on her face, “I take good care of my dog, but I’ve got a stressful job. I drink to stay going.” I snorted in disbelief.
“Sir, I’d like to come back tomorrow to see how the dog is treated normally, if you wouldn’t mind,” requested Mary.
“Sure… whatever… that’s fine,” William shrugged as if he didn’t care.
But of course he forgot in the mix of things, and after three knocks Mary let herself into the unlocked house right as William reached the peak of that night’s drunken rage. Lamps and remotes were flying everywhere, most of them headed in my general direction, but I saw her- and she saw me. I must have looked pretty pitiful or something, because her eyes melted right then. She looked at William and hardened right back up.
“William,” she said in an authoritative tone, “William, you have left me no choice but to take your dog, by reason of animal abuse.”
“Huh? Whada ya mean by all this?” his words were slurred, “I take esselent care of mah Smiler.”
“I beg to differ,” Mary replied, in a somewhat disappointed tone, “Goodbye, Mr. William.”
It was July seventeenth. Not even two months after adoption and I was already being evicted! The day suddenly seemed a whole lot darker, even though it was only two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon.
I was still sitting by the big beige couch, stunned by what had just happened, when a muzzle slipped over my head. It pulled me back to my senses- I was being captured! I struggled and growled, fighting with all I had in me. You may be thinking See? Pit bulls can’t be trusted! But I had to protect myself against this new restrainer, not to mention I no longer had a home, so I was scared! Wouldn’t you be?
Mary let me have my battle, patiently matching my strength. Once I was finished, she talked to me like I was a human, her equal. I had never been talked to the way Mary talked to me that afternoon, but little did I know that it was going to be a new normal in my life.
“Now Smiler, I know you must be real scared, but don’t you worry. You’re safe now, and no one will ever hurt you again,” she said.
I wanted to believe her so badly that it hurt. But how could I, after seeing how things worked out with William?
“I know, I know,” she whispered in gentle tones, “But you can trust me,” she paused. “Alright, here’s what gonna happen now: I need to get you to a vet, because that’s how we do things at the rescue. Then we’ll go to Gentle Souls, the rescue that is….” her voice seemed to fade out as I realized something:
My whole life was about to change.
I could feel it. I could feel it the same way I knew I could trust Mary, the same way I knew when it was mealtime; I just knew it. And it did.
We went to the vet, which was a little scary at first with all the new people and smells. But I knew I was safe with Mary. My shots and my papers were all taken care of and straightened out. Someone from the rescue would be heading to William’s house to sign the legal papers regarding the transferring of ownership. Once Mary figured all that out on her cell phone, we got back into her truck and headed to the rescue, where I was admitted to special care until I was ready to be adopted. I was officially a Gentle Souls Rescue dog, under the care of a lady named Zoey. Gentle Souls was full of newness for me; new dogs, new people, new sights, new smells, new walls and floors and views-- new everything.
As a result of all the sudden change, I withdrew into myself a bit to recuperate. This caused me to be scared, touchy, and sometimes a little mean. However, Zoey made sure that I wouldn’t stay like that. She let me heal, and I started to change and grow for the better.
Zoey was about thirty-eight years old, with big bright green eyes and flaming red hair, with touches of gray at her temples. I got five meals a day for two weeks and brushed every day to get me back up to one hundred percent. But first I had to know I could trust Zoey, and she understood that too. She never pushed my limits and accepted that I had some natural instincts that I had no power over. Zoey was the most patient person I’d ever come in contact with. Sitting outside my pen, she would talk or read out loud to me. She did this until we were both comfortable enough with each other to let her sit inside my pen with me. I still wouldn’t sit next to her, but in no way did that mean I didn’t want it.
I went for it one day, and it was amazing. She was telling me about her daughter Rosie;
“She is the cutest little girl, always ready for an adventure,” she was saying with a smile when I plopped right down next to her, “Oh! Why hello there,” her smile only grew.
Then she started to pet me. Oh, how I had missed being petted! But Zoey had a funny look on her face.
“You know what Smiler?”
I cocked my head to let her know I was listening.
“I want to change your name… Would that be alright with you?”
I knew this would need some thought. I walked slowly around my pen three times and came to a conclusion. I rolled over onto my back to let her know I trusted her.
“Alright!” she shouted with delight. “Let’s see… How about the name Hope, because that is what you’ve given me?”
Her smile was back, and now I wore one too.
For the rest of my stay at Gentle Souls, Zoey and I built up a special bond that we shared with no one else. It was September fifteenth when Zoey decided it was time to introduce me to Rosie. I was even more excited than I had expected myself to be. I couldn’t wait!
By the time Rosie arrived, my tail was circling like a propeller on a helicopter, and I was practically jumping out of my pen with excited anticipation. But when she walked in, I remember being quieter and stiller than I had been in a long, long time. She looked at me, her head slightly cocked to the left, her curls falling over her forehead as we regarded each other as foreign objects. She had her mom’s eyes and her bunches of freckles were spattered over her face, which was framed with bouncy strawberry blonde hair. Then she broke into the brightest smile you could imagine and ran towards my pen to put her hands through the gate of my pen to pet me. Zoey must have been worried I would hurt Rosie because she leapt forward suddenly. Zoey stepped back when I put my paw right into Rosie’s hand and gave her a big wet kiss on the cheek.
This was the person I was meant to spend the rest of my days with. This was someone who would love me with all her heart. This was who I would return my love to forever.
Zoey had that funny look on her face again.
“Hope, how would you like to come home with Rosie and I today… to stay?”
They took me home that very day.
Four months later, I am curled up beside Rosie by the fire as winter makes a masterpiece of the land around my new home. Not once have I doubted that I am where I was always meant to be. Zoey and Rosie have brought me to my full potential. If I may say so myself, my coat is at its shiniest, and I am feeling like the most happy and loyal family dog there ever was.