It was just another Thursday night. I was lounging in my old recliner in my garage, smoking a cigarette. I know it’s a bad habit, but sometimes the only things that helped me unwind after a long day were the nicotine and the quiet. It was a peaceful night, and the distant hum of traffic was hardly audible.
Then it happened.
Four young men with hoods over their faces rushed me along. Before I could even react, fists slammed into my ribs, causing my jaw to shatter sideways. My cigarette fell to the floor as they forced me against the cold concrete floor and demanded my auto keys.
I coughed and spewed blood on the sidewalk. I said, “There are keys inside.”
They erred.
They stormed into my house because they thought they had won. But they didn’t know about my two 280-pound Pit Bulls and couldn’t have prepared for them properly.
actions that are not desired.
Sweethearts, to me.
But warriors when it mattered.
As soon as those punks stepped inside, a deep, menacing snarl shook the walls. Then there was a loud clatter of paws hitting the floor. Before the intruders could react, my adorable babies ran.
I was spared the shouts and the crashes. I just knew.
The same men who had walked in so cockily stumbled out a few seconds later, their expressions showing fear. One slipped as he tried to escape. Another boy screamed as Titan, my biggest boy, leaped forward and snapped his powerful jaws millimeters from his arm.
They started to run.
Hurry.
My dogs, my family, my rescues, were standing above me as I lay on the garage floor, their warm breath sponging over my injured face. They gently prodded me to see how I was doing while whimpering.
They had defended me without hesitation.
Their strong, regular beats pounded against my as I wrapped my arms around them.
It is said that pit bulls are dangerous. Not desired. Not redeemable. But tonight, these “unwanted” dogs saved my life.
If you are thinking about getting a rescue dog, please consider adopting one. Because one day they might save you too.
