Kirby has now been with me, *checks his timer* 4 days and 8 hours. He enjoys playing with the other dogs, playing with me, and snuggle time (boy does he ever enjoy snuggle time!).
While his first meeting with Scout didn’t go so well, they’ve mended their differences and decided to be friends, with a little help and training of course.
Kirby has shown himself to be a wonderful dog, no rougher around the edges than any other dog fresh out of the shelter, and loves to be loved. He responds well to training, is quickly picking up all the things i’m putting down (food on the floor AND manners/obedience/commands), and has already racked up several compliments near and far in the neighborhood.
He has also found the pleasure of the bed, and while I keep an eye on him to make sure he leaves my blanket alone, he’s happy to snooze behind me while I whittle away my keyboard.
Kirby is a terrific example of the travesty of ‘breed labels’, and exemplifies exactly why they should be ignored; he’s nothing like Animal Services said he is, he’s just a dog, mis- treated by humans, judged harshly by humans, and, thanks to the wonderful human that runs the Humane Society, given a second chance to have a wonderful life. I’m honored, and still a little awed, at being a part of that, and not a moment spent with Kirby goes by that I don’t enjoy having him around.