November 9, 1999

The man who took me from my brothers and sisters said something about me being tough like a fighter he used to hear about. Some guy named Marciano. Or maybe it was this guy in the movies named Balboa.

Anyway, he took me to his house and said I was his dog. Didn't seem like he wanted much to do with me though. Whenever I wanted to play or just give him puppy smooches, he yelled at me or pushed me away. That scared me. Sometimes I had an accident because I was so frightened. I didn't really mean to, but that just made him madder and he kicked me a couple of times until I learned to run away.

He took me to visit other dogs a few times. I wanted to play, hoping I could find one friend, but these dogs were all bigger than me and weren't happy to see me at all. They growled and snapped at me and tried to bite me. That scared me too, so I ran away again, but I was so scared I got lost.

The police found me and took me to the local veterinarian, who also did something they called "animal control". Am I an animal? They called me a Doberman Pinscher, so I guess I'm one of those.

Anyway, the folks who work with the animal control guy found my owner. He came and got me so he could yell at me some more and chain me outside his house. He said he'd make me a fighter or else. I didn't like the sound of that.

I used to get dog food, but after the man who owned me got me back from animal control, he fed me raw meat. He said that would make me tough and I could have all I wanted because he worked somewhere that let him get all the animal carcasses he wanted free. I never had much to eat, so "all I wanted" sounded great.

He also took me back to the vet to get my ears cropped. The man and the vet had a big argument about cropping my ears. The man wanted them completely removed, but the vet wouldn't do it. He finally got the man to let him leave a little tiny ear flap for me. When the vet took me into his room, I saw water running down his face. I wanted to lick it off but I remembered the man didn't like that so I thought the vet might not either.

A few weeks later, the man took me to visit another dog. They put us together in a fenced area and the other dog started snarling and growling. He snapped at me and it scared me so badly I leaped over the fence and ran out of the building. I guess I'll never be a fighter.

That must have made the man really mad, because when the police finally caught me and took me back to the animal control guy, they'd already talked to the man. He said he didn't want me any more. The animal control guy, the same vet I'd seen before, put me in a crate. Other people would come and feed me and do something they called "petting" and "hugging" to me. I didn't know about this, but it sure seemed nice. They seemed pretty anxious to find someone to take care of me within seven days.

Nobody came to take see me except the nice people who worked at the vet's place. On the seventh day, one of the ladies came earlier than usual and sat on the floor with me and hugged me for a long time. She had water running down her face too, so I took a chance and licked it off for her. She just made more face water and said she was so sorry but they were going to have to do something to me called "putting down" that afternoon. Something about "laws", whatever they are, told them how long they could keep me. I didn't understand why she was upset.

About mid-morning, the lady came back with a big smile on her face. She let me out of my crate, hugged me all over and said something called Doberman Rescue of Nebraska was going to fine me a "home". I wasn't sure what a "home" was, but if it made her happy I figured it probably was a good thing. It felt good to hear her say I wouldn't be "put down" because a nice lady from Doberman Rescue had called and said they'd drive out to Lexington from some place called Omaha to get me within a couple of days.

Sure enough, the next Sunday my nice lady friend showed up with her grandson to wait for Doberman Rescue. I got to play with her grandson, but not rough because he's a little guy. Mostly we just lay on the floor with his arms wrapped around me while I washed his face.

The man from Doberman Rescue came and I went over to say hello. He rubbed my head, told me he was very sorry that I'd been treated the way I had been. He said they were going to find me a "home" with people who would "love" me. He had what he called "tears" in his eyes, which I guess is like the water I'd seen on people's faces before. He said something about no dog ever deserving to be abused like this. He and my lady friend talked for a while; I got bored so I went looking for snacks. They laughed and said what a "smart" dog I was when I found a bag of treats.

We got in his car. I didn't want to get in another crate, but he just talked softly to me, told me it was going to be OK, and then he bribed me by tossing a treat in the back of the crate. When I went in, he closed the door behind me, but I didn't mind because he kept talking to me, telling me what a good boy I was and how he was going to find someone to love me and take good care of me. He said something about Doberman Rescue having found homes for 44 Dobermans last year. That sounded pretty good.

Then we started our adventure. We got on something called the Interstate and headed for Omaha. I thought I ran pretty fast, but things sure flew by on this Interstate thing. It was all I could do to keep track of stuff. The Doberman Rescue guy told me I was really good because I didn't even bark the whole way to Omaha.

When we stopped so I could stretch my legs, the DR guy let me out of the crate. I climbed out and I think I surprised him by not bolting for the door. I just lay down on the floor right next to him. He must've read my mind, because he put his arms around me and hugged me for the longest time. It felt so good just to be held.

We got to Omaha and met some other nice people at Tully's Kennels. They took very good care of me and several other Doberman Rescue dogs for several days until one of the other Doberman Rescue people could do something called "foster care". She took me home and hugged me and petted me and said I was going to stay with her and her husband and their dog for a while. Their dog wasn't like the others I'd met; he actually wanted to play and not hurt me.

We're having fun and I'm learning what it's like to be a part of a family and be loved. I like it a lot. I hope there's a family who wants this Dobie to love. I know I'm not as handsome as some other Dobies, but I sure like being loved and showing "my" people how much I love them!

Thank you for reading this and caring about Dobermans like me who need some help.

Your friend,

Rocky

Editor's Note:  Rocky now lives with his new family in the Florence area of Omaha. The family includes Mom, Dad, and a Dobie sister who really keeps Rocky on the move. No couch potato for this guy!

P.S. — The nice folks at Doberman Rescue of Nebraska saved my life so I could be a part of somebody's family. The guy who drove me from Lexington said they need lots of adoptive and foster homes, people to help them do their work, and something called "money" to pay "bills" for medical care, food, and boarding. I'd sure appreciate anything you can do. Here is someone you can talk to: Alice Erftmier at 397-1742. If you have any of this "money" stuff, they said you can send it to Doberman Rescue of Nebraska, Inc., c/o Alice Erftmier, 1018 S. 92d St., Omaha, NE  68114.

Doberman Rescue of Nebraska, Inc. is a nonprofit corporation certified by the IRS as meeting the requirements of Section 501c(3) of the Internal Revenue Code. Contributions are tax deductible.