In October of 2017 we started working with a dog named Roscoe at Newport Animal Control. Roscoe is your stereotypical “pitbull”: big blocky build, bulging with muscles, square head, and a heart of gold. Roscoe lacked training of any kind, so he was enthusiastic in his bids for attention. This could be terrifying to the uninitiated, so it was doubtful that Roscoe would ever get adopted by a good home as he was.

Roscoe came to Piney Mountain Foster for day camp sessions so I could work with him for a new program NAC had become part of called Universal K9, which trained shelter dogs, specifically “pitbulls” to be police dogs. To qualify, the dog needed to perform a series of tasks on video. Universal K9 would review the video and decide if the dog qualifies for their training. Sadly, Roscoe did not qualify. But we could not let this big handsome boy languish at Animal Control, so we took him in for fostering and began searching for a breed specific rescue that might help him find a home. While we did that we taught him some manners, house broke him, and he became part of our pack.

Another dog rescuer, I’ll call her Grandma – she will not like that but I’ll do it anyway – had visited here and fell in love with Roscoe. She has several pits of her own and loves the breed. Her daughter and son-in law were looking for a dog, and Grandma thought Roscoe would be just what they need. These young people, I’ll call them Mommy and Daddy, were about to have a child: Little One. Daddy’s work kept him away from home a lot and he wanted a watch dog to look after Mommy. Mommy wanted a companion animal. Roscoe fit both bills. They came and met him several times, then took him home. He quickly became a family member and Mommy’s protector.

When Little One was born, Grandma took the blanket that the nurses had wrapped her in after birth home and gave it to Roscoe. He was fascinated with this new scent and kept it close. When Little One came home, Roscoe already knew her and was instantly bonded to this little pink people-puppy. He instinctively knew to be gentle with her, and he became her guardian too.

I have heard several touching stories about these two and how protective and attentive Roscoe is of Little One, but I want to relate to you their latest adventure. First, you must understand that these two are inseparable. Best Buds. Little One recently learned to walk. On this particular day, Little One scampered down the hall to her room and shoved the door closed before Roscoe came in. Realizing that they were separated, and she was trapped inside, Little One began to scream. Roscoe began battering the door with his head, causing a noise that resounded through the house. Mommy came running to see what was happening. When she opened the door, Roscoe rushed in, sniffed Little One thoroughly, then checked the room. Finding all in order, he left the room leaving Mommy to deal with Little One.

Later, Little One repeated her stunt, began screaming after the door slammed, but Roscoe stayed where he was, lifted his head to look at Mommy as though to say, “She’s your kid, you deal with it this time.”

He is a devoted protector of both Mommy and Little One, but no fool.

Roscoe is huge. He is a pitbull’s pitbull, and he looks formidable. But, as is typical of this breed, Roscoe is as devoted and loving of his family, and especially Little One, as can be.

9/22/20, 1:26 PM

Lori sent September 22, 2020
I wanted to tell you what Dozier”AKA Roscoe did.  Little one as you eloquently put it learned to open the front door and escaped while mom was in the kitchen.  Dozier started crying and banging his head on the glass which of course alerted Mommy.  He saved her yet again.  I cannot thank you enough for this wonderful boy.

2/23/21, 8:00 PM

Lori sent Today at 8:00 PM
I wanted to thank you for Roscoe aka Dozier on 2 occasion’s he has saved Little One. Mommy woke up this morning just before 7 to Dozier raising a ruckus.  My very smart and mischievous grand daughter had opened the gate to the kitchen and then the outside door.  Little One was standing in the front yard in her little gown and he couldn’t get to her.  This precious boy got Mommy up and let her know where Little One was.  I couldn’t ask for a better guardian for my 2 year old granddaughter. Thank you for saving this beautiful boy.

A Little History

In the mid to late 1800’s Staffordshire Bull Terriers (the proper name for what is typically known as a pitbull) were known as The Nanny Dog because of their devotion to their family and especially the children.  It is a true shame that greedy humans engaging in blood-sports for profit have ruined the reputation of this amazing breed of dog. Roscoe is a perfect example of what a Staffy is actually like.  And we are so grateful that he was adopted into a loving family who let him fill the roll he was created to fill.

^{Originally published February 16, 2016}

One of the great things about being a dog is our social order. We do not have to guess about who is in charge, we always know. In our pack (home) HairyFace is the pack leader because he provides us with food. That earns him the right to boss us around (he calls it ‘training’) and we comply because there is generally food in it for us. And because we love him, but mostly because of the food.

I am Hairy’s second in command. He calls me his Sergeant at Arms because keeping the pack secure is my primary job. I also mentor the fosters, and make sure the snuggle beds don’t escape (I suppose that too falls under security). It’s not that I’m a vicious dog.

When the Peoples take me out in public, I’m very friendly: encouraging people to scratch my head and pet me. For those who are truly deserving of such an honor I will even flop over and present my belly for a good rubbing. HairyFace calls me “a big moosh-baby”. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure it indicates non-violence.

Out there.

Here at home, I am Guardian of the Realm. It is my job to keep my pack safe from horrible threats like murderers, robbers, school buses (they eat children you know: I’ve seen them do it), loud cars, marauding stray cats, garden munching bunny rabbits, and the wind. Here at home, I am … intimidating (eye-brow waggle). And I do it well.

That’s why I was just aghast when I went off to deal with a heinous threat and upon my return I found this:

Would not you agree that this was totally unfair and demeaning? Imagine, sending me off to sleep in Volt’s bed so Volt could take my favorite place. SO unfair.

But, Hairy is the Leader, so … I hear and obey, because I’m a good dog. And I will be wanting dinner this evening (sigh).

Blaze gave me quite a scare today.

As Marie was leaving for work she used her “good bye” treats to get most of the house dogs into their crates so I could go outside to clean kennels without having to worry about anyone starting trouble or tearing up a dog bed while I was outside.

When I was finished with the kennels and had the outside dogs back in their rooms, I let the inside dogs go outside.  They rushed past me as I held the door like a flood or fur and raced around the corner to bark at one of the many vagrant cats who like to walk by, flipping the tips of their vertical tails in arrogance because they know the slavering pack of hounds cannot escape the fence to come after them.

After a bit the cat moved on and the dogs settled down to sniffing the grass and freshening their markings.  All except Blaze.  I could hear his distinctive hound dog bawl coming from around the house on the back porch. It occurred to me while I was watering the garden that while I do not think Blaze can get over the retaining wall back there, he was making a convincing try of it last night.  Maybe I should go bring him around to where I can watch him.

As I walked to the house the barking stopped and as I rounded the corner I expected to see Blaze laying on the porch waiting for me to come open the door for him so he could go inside to lounge around in greater comfort.

But he wasn’t.

In fact he was nowhere to be seen!  Just then the baying started up again, but it was just over a rise where the trees take over. “Oh, no! He got over the wall and is chasing that cat!” thought, I; painfully aware that today, of all days for this to happen, is when I’m supposed to deliver Blaze to the rescue van for his long ride out east.

The baying wasn’t moving.  Maybe he treed the cat.  Maybe I can get to him and bring him back.  But first I need to secure the other dogs.

I called them and, to their credit, every one of them came running.  Just for good measure I called to Blaze again, but he remained fixedly baying at the cat.  I turned to open the door to let the herd in so I could crate them and there, peering through the door glass at me, was BLAZE!  He was looking at me as to say, “What? I was sleeping.  Why are you yelling for me?”

I was so relieved I gave him a big hug, which really confused him.

But who the flibbiddygibbets is out in the woods sounding just like Blaze?  Doesn’t matter I guess, Blaze is here and safe.  And … maybe I’m getting too old for this job!

I started Monday morning by loading up the truck with all the stuff I was going to need that morning, for I had an unusually busy day of running around ahead of me.  Once that was done I did a quickie-clean-up of the kennels.  I planned to do a thorough cleaning later in the day when I did not need to be watching the clock.  I needed to be at Animal Control, with Martin, at 10:00 and time does tend to slip by when I take my eyes of the clock.  So I took care of several short chores and watched that clock to be sure I got all the dogs who were not going with me secured, and Martin loaded in time for me to roll out with enough travel time to get there at (or before) the designated time.

When Martin and I arrived (just a few minutes early), Roxy was waiting on us and she had brought a leash.  Early AND prepared, I like that!  We finished up the adoption and Roxy took Martin (now renamed Guinness) home with her.

Before I left, Lisa (Animal Control’s manager) asked me to look at a dog with her.  Tucked away in the  back room and huddled against the back wall trembling like a leaf was a smallish dog who clearly was at least part Blue Heeler, but beyond that we could not tell anything: size, weight, age, even sex, because of the way he (as it turned out) was all hunched up.  He was terrified.

When the staff arrived that morning, Chip (Newport’s Animal Control Officer) came in the back door and found a crate that someone had left during the night.  The crate contained this guy and a cat.  They got him into one of the kill cages, but could not get close or handle him at all.  We both agreed that he was not going to do well there.  I said I’d have to talk to Marie before I could take him home – and I’d need to go get a crate anyway.  And I went on.

I delivered a display full of dog cookies to Kathy’s Grooming Parlor.  Our rescue uses her a lot and she always does a great job and treats us well.  She came to the Quilts & Canines thing on Saturday and wanted a display for her place to help Steele Away Home.  So I delivered that, we discussed terms.  Then I went on.

I stopped at the bank to exchange a bag of small bills and quarters for big bills.  The drive-through teller, Pam, is a long-time friend and helps us at the Q&C events.  We chatted until another car pulled up behind me, then I rolled on.

I went down the road a bit farther and up the big hill to Linda’s house.  She’s Steele Away Home’s treasurer, and I needed to hand off the people food sales money Marie, Pam and I took in from Quilts & Canines.  I would have given it to her after the show, but they left before we did.

From there I went out to Cedarwood Veterinary to deliver Roxy’s and Martin’s paperwork and microchip (with injector), and to make payments on Steele Away’s vet bill with funds I’d raised that week.  $92.00:  not bad, but not near as good as we did at last year’s Quilts & Canines.

Then home to e-mail Marie.  I explained the situation and she said, “Go get that poor dog!”  I needed to check with her because we are, technically, over capacity already and she is concerned that I’m working myself too hard as it is.  But … Blue is not going to do well at all there and I’m sure Steele Away Home has no vacancies since we are just two weeks before a transport.

So I loaded a transport box in the truck and went back.  The process of gaining enough of the little fella’s trust to let me maneuver him into the transport box took quite a while.  But once done, we loaded him up and I took him home.

Piney Mountain worked it’s blessedness on him, and he started settling down within minutes of arrival.

After some decompression time, I took him out for a leash walk, but ended up having to carry him back.  He’s a bit opinionated about where he wanted to go.

He was infested with fleas, so I gave him a Capstar in cat food.  Cat food is my secret weapon against stubborn dogs who will not take a pill hidden in peanut butter, cheese, hot dog, lunch meat … and I tried all of those.  He refused them all.  But Mom had some tins of cat food her cats now refuse to eat and gave me one of those to try.

He also stunk to high heaven, so later in the day I brought him in and Marie and I bathed him in the kitchen sink.  He did NOT like that, but neither did he get nasty about it.

But even through all that he still had live fleas on him.  So I took him back outside to let that Capstar continue to work.  He seemed happier outside in a kennel than inside in a crate anyway … until about 1:30 AM.  Then he started in on a high-pitched howl that sounded like banshees.  That got all the house dogs barking.  I decided to check on him and decide whether I would bring him inside or crate him in the shop to muffle the noise.  It had to be bothering our neighbors.

As I entered his kennel he jumped up and danced on my legs, “I’m so, so happy to see you!  I thought you abandoned me too!”  Okay, you’re lonely.  Bringing you in should fix the problem.

So we settled in the living room.  Lil Blue in his crate, me on the sofa with my Kindle, which I later traded for my lap top because I was not able to get back to sleep, so I might as well get some work done.  This was partly because he was restless too.  About 4:00 AM he finally settled and went into a sound sleep. But that is when I need to be up and starting my day.

And that was the Monday Lil Blue arrived at Piney Mountain.  I got quite a lot done “out there” but precious little done here at home.  I never did get to a deep cleaning of the kennels, just a pick-up and hose out a few times.  Today, Blue and I will continue to get acquainted and I’ll try to get him to walk with me on a leash so I don’t have to carry him all the time.  Not that that’s a big deal, he only weighs about 25 pounds.  But it would be better for both of us if we got that worked out.  That’s one of the necessary skills he’ll need to be considered for adoption.  Eventually he needs to come when I call so I can let him run freely in the yard.  But I have to go gently with him, he’s been hurt enough already.

To follow along with Lil Blue’s progress, check out Blues foster notes page.

^{Originally published Nov. 29, 2014}

A report from Cochise on Blondie Bear:

The day after Thanksgiving, there was great excitement in the neighborhood: a UPS truck was parked out front AND a stray dog was running up and down the road all at the same time! Smokey and Lupa were barking and carrying on, other confined dogs on the road were barking and carrying on. We were running all over the yard barking this way and that. It was more than Blondie Bear could stand.

In desperation to escape and be part of it all, she found she could scale a section of The Great Wall of Edwina by reaching up with her forepaws, hooking the top plank with her rather ample claws, and boosting herself with hind feet claws snagging seams between the heavy boards. Doug got to the door just in time to see Blondie’s butt going up over the wall and trot off toward the road. I would not have thought it possible: she’s pretty chunky after all, but she did it. Of course she went absolutely deaf the moment she got over the wall and could not hear Doug calling her back.

Doug went out after her. It was a foolish effort, but he tried. She’d look at him when he got close, giggle and run off again. Finally she went down a steep slope toward a creek and a cow pasture beyond. Doug couldn’t follow through the forest underbrush on that slope, so he came home. She was out for hours. She pranced through the yard several times, looking very pleased with herself. She was out carousing until Marie got home from shopping. The thought of seeing Marie and inspecting a truck-load of groceries was too much for her and she surrendered.

The next day Doug got to work thwarting that avenue of escape. He was going to add another level to the trellis, but Marie suggested just adding a shelf. He thought that over, modified the concept a little and made it so.

Blondie was not amused.

Escape route thwarted

Marie was up before 4:00 this morning: low blood sugar. Her ministrations in the kitchen roused Buddy Beagle (who was at that time sleeping in a crate in the kitchen) and of course he wanted to be up with Marie. He adores Marie. His vocalizations roused Josephine who decided to turn it into play time. Before the Beagles may play they must go outside to pee. Marie was not up to beagle herding yet, so I got up to help with that. It was time for me to be up anyway.

When they got back in and Marie was ready to head back to bed, Josie decided she’d rather sleep some more too. So Buddy joined me in the den while I tried to study. After a while, since I was not willing to devote myself entirely to scratching his head (I was scratching, but also trying to read my Bible) he wandered off.

A half-hour later I went out to the kitchen for another mug of coffee and found Buddy curled up in his crate snoozing away.

He did raise his head as I approached, “Is it time for breakfast?”

“No. Not breakfast time yet. Not for another hour.”

“Oh.” and put his head back down.

He’s a good boy.