More Than a Word

There is a perfect word to describe the series of events that led to the adoption of Rasi Diaz, but to find it, I need to search the past, the moments that changed the future, and this very second, as he lays under my feet. In a quaint town known as Washoe Valley, there is a small non-profit dog sanctuary where a small team cares for the lives of sometimes fourty dogs at a time. Young, old, hurt, healthy, and all with no where else to go. The Canine Rehabilitation Center and Sanctuary saves those dogs who were called unadoptable, aggressive, too expensive, too old, and too much to handle. When I walked into the sanctuary for the first time, I was interviewing for the recently opened management position, but without any knowing, was walking toward something I wanted even more. My first few months meeting our furry tenants was everything a day with fourty dogs should be. There was, however, a small group of dogs I couldn't meet yet, and among them, a boy named Rocky. These dogs, nothing short of the rest, were a little more serious, a little more strong willed, and a lot bigger. The dogs that everyone knew might be harder to adopt, the dogs I wanted to meet.

One day, in the middle of noise and cleaning, I stood at the end of the brick hallway sweeping , and just as I looked up, from the window of a yellow painted condo, a big red lab stared back at me. His eyes were droopy and his nose a stark black against his red autumn coat. Not knowing anything about him, except his name, I decided to ask around. "Rocky? Really?" Rocky was his name, and he was transferred in from a shelter who had called CRCS to save him from euthanasia. In the world of saving dogs, there is often a clock that is ticking, and at that time, it was Rocky's. At CRCS, a dog's clock never runs out, and like a sort of super woman, the founder of the sanctuary decided to restart Rocky's. She believes there is a home for every dog, and even though she had not met me, and I had not yet heard of him, I was out there. Rocky settled into his life at the sanctuary a year before I started work there. He learned commands, was given fluffy toys he would never play with, and learned he could run circles off the walls in his room. When Rocky had visitors, the team learned he was long winded, as he would bark from the moment he was introduced to the time they would leave. The adoptions team couldn't get a first visitor to return, so, the determination in me grew. I walked him, trained him, and asked to take him home, wondering if he could befriend Tank, Daisy, and Lotus.

When Rocky stepped into the house, with the trainer "V" holding his leash, he unsurely poked his head around and looked to me for approval. Then...the first cat, Tank, came out...and the second, Daisy...and then, Lotus, the third! And, with no idea how he would react, V and I braced ourselves! We have seen Rocky jump off walls when smelling other dogs, bark out relentlessly at a volunteer across a half mile parking lot, and completely melt down if a dog walked too close to his path. So, needless to say, we thought he may or may not like cats. We watched and waited, and as Rocky avoided three curious cats and crinkled his stark black nose to smell his new family, it was obvious, Rocky was home. With a little thought, Rocky became my Rasi, but everyday isn't perfect. With a lot of love and understanding, we still train together, meet new people, and make new friends, and he has an entire team behind him cheering him on. A team in Nevada, at the Canine Rehabilitation Center and Sanctuary, a team of family who came into his life after adoption, and a team at home, Tank, Daisy, Lotus, and me, his mom. So, when I look at his story, the word I find is remarkable. Unadoptable, aggressive, too expensive, too old, and too much to handle? I think not. Rasi is a remarkable dog who is on a remarkable journey, and I am remarkably happy he is mine.

The End