Posted by Heather
Dogs have been a part of my life since I can remember. I grew up with quite an assortment – Collies, Great Danes, Pugs, and Keeshonds. I took naps on the Great Danes’ bellies as a toddler, witnessed both birth and death for the first time in grade school and had my first experience with a rescue dog in high school. As an adult, my brother & I rescued a big, goofy, Rottie/Rhodesian Ridgeback/Mastiff/Chocolate Lab that was a stray in Vermont named Hooch. When I bought my first house, I rescued Deuce, who is a Catahoula Leopard/Pitbull mix. He was in Pennsylvania and had to find a new home when his owner was diagnosed with cancer. Then came Zoe. She’s also a Pitbull mix who was rescued as a former bait dog in Hartford, Connecticut. You would think that I would have realized by then that maybe I had a soft-spot for rescue dogs.
But it wasn’t until rescue dog number #5 that I figured out just how important rescue dogs were to me. Halo made it crystal clear.