Joy...

Today I was proud of my dog. I suppose I shouldn't say that like it's something new or strange, because it isn't. Sarra was adopted at two years-old from a shelter in Seattle. She was underweight and had been found wandering in central Washington. When I brought her home she had been in the shelter system for over two months.

At first she was so shy that I could only walk her in the very early mornings and late at night because seeing people caused her so much stress that she refused to go to the bathroom. She didn't know how to walk politely on a leash or how to sit or any other basic commands. She was a nervous wreck everywhere but inside the house.

Two months later she had learned how to sit and lay down reliably and I could walk her around people, though she would run away and growl if they tried to approach her. At four months she began growling at other dogs on the leash and became intractable at the dog park (a place where she had been comfortable before).

And because of all of that, today I am proud. We went to the dog park where she did not bark or growl at any dogs. There were two small children there who she roundly ignored despite the fact that they were taking her tennis balls away from her and in one case, throwing rocks. She ran around with a big smile on her face while a French Bulldog chased her gleefully. And my final and amazing joy was that while on the leash she let a woman come up to her and pet her for a five mintue stretch without a single sign of stress.

For finishes...here's a picture of my darling girl.