I have had some dogs that were dropped off and some that I rescued. The one I loved the most was bruno, my Gladiator Doberman.
Bruno had been professionally trained as a guard dog, and when the local miss was on strike, Bruno guarded the mill. When the mill re-opened, the owners were going to have Bruno put to sleep, but one of the men who worked at the mill took him.
They had owned Bruno for about a year when I found him. It was early spring in north Idaho, and he was chained up outside in the rain and mud, and his food had been spilled into the mud, so he couldn't eat it. He was skin and bones, and you could see every vertebrae and rib. I asked the people if they would give him to me, and they said yes. I put a blanket in the back of my Mazda pickup, and put his bucket of fresh food inside my spare tire so it wouldn't spill, and that is how Bruno went home.
He smelled and looked terrible from being out in the dirt, so I put him in the bathtub and gave him a bath, hoping that he would co-operate, since he hardly knew me.
Bruno seemed to know right from the start that I loved him, and he often rode along with me when I went someplace in the pickup, and slept next to the bed at night. I had Bruno for many years, and he was a wonderful dog.
