Sweet Mia... Best Dog Ever

I bought my first house when I was 42 years old. I had moved for a job from Ohio to Georgia. I started in an apartment and decided it was time to invest in my own property. As soon as I found a house I thought I could call a home, I made an offer and signed a mortgage contract. I had a big yard behind the house. The next logical step, in my mind, was to get a dog.

I love brindle dogs. I had discovered a breed known as Plott Hound years before I bought the house. They are descended from German hunting dogs, bred by the Plott family in North Carolina and named after the family. They weren’t recognized by the AKC until 2007. When I was ready to adopt a dog, I knew I wanted a young female, old enough that she would already be house trained. I often worked long hours and knew I wouldn’t have time to train a puppy. I didn’t search long before I found Mia. Her name when I met her was Lana, but she didn’t seem interested in that name and I just didn’t care for it. Like I did when I adopted my cat, Pepe, I changed her name. Mia just came to me and she took to the name pretty well.

It was not a smooth adoption. The process was easy enough. I met her and the woman who ran the rescue at an adoption event at a PetSmart. She was sweet dog and bit submissive. She went home with me that day for a trial period. There was supposed to be a home visit, but the rescue was in Athens, GA and they didn’t want to drive to where I lived in Sugar Hill, GA. So I sent them my Facebook profile because I had shared tons of photos of my new house. They approved my adoption and Mia and I had a good week together. The cats didn’t want much to do with her, but she didn’t try to chase them around, which was my biggest concern. The rescue considered her a Plott Hound-Pit Bull mix. I suspect they classified her as that because of her color and she had a head that was bit larger than a typical hound. I still think she’s nearly all Plott hound, but I never had a DNA test done to confirm it.

I mentioned Mia was a bit submissive. This was an understatement. Her first year with me was not an easy one and the blame was squarely on my shoulders. I had a dog of my own only once before (there were a couple when I was young, but I barely remember them). He was a cockapoo named Boomer that I got from a friend. He had a touchy personality and I was one of the few people my friend knew that wasn’t afraid of him. We got along well, for the most part. There were a couple of incidents when I had lost my temper, but I never beat him or hurt him. One such incident involved him grabbing a burger from someone’s plate while they were holding it. His personality was set when I got him, though, so I usually let him settle down. Most of the time we were good and we loved each other’s company. Still, after spending about a month staying at my mom’s house because I had back surgery, Boomer bonded with my mom. I went home and Boomer stayed. There was another dog in the house and it made sense that he preferred the dog rather than my cat. I credit Boomer for saving me, though. If he had not been my dog at the time, I would have died of a self-inflicted overdose of sleeping pills. However, by this time, I was in a better mental state and I could see he and my mom were very close. I couldn’t take him home with me.

So, I wasn’t prepared for Mia. She was, she is, a smart dog. Her timidness, however, made it so that she was easily frightened and therefore easily confused. I, being short tempered, would raise my voice which only made it worse. I was far too aggressive in the earliest days of Mia being my dog. I realized I was only making it worse. She had clearly been abused before I got her which was why she was so skittish when I would tell her to get off the bed or go lay down. I was too loud and angry sounding. It scared her. I could see it, but I was not good at adapting my approach. I started to believe it would be better for Mia to go to another home. I had adopted her, so I felt I took the responsibility of being her permanent home, her lifetime caregiver. Taking her to a shelter never crossed my mind. I also didn’t actively try to find another home for her. I loved her and felt I was the one that needed to adapt and change for her. It was bad timing though, as I was in another depressive episode and that meant over reacting to everything. Much of my outward expression was anger rather than sadness. It made it worse when I started to tell myself I was a terrible dog “daddy” and therefore a bad person in general. It didn’t occur to me I just didn’t know how to properly care for a dog’s mental wellbeing. I also expected her to know what I wanted without having trained her.

One of the biggest issues was that, aside from the short time I had Boomer, I had always been a cat person. They aren’t as demanding as a dog. They will do their own thing and if they feel like they want attention they come to you. I knew dogs were pack animals and I knew I needed to do more with Mia. I should have waited until I got used to my new house and the surrounding neighborhood. I should have been getting help for my depression, but I didn’t recognize I was struggling with it at the time. It wasn’t that she and I weren’t bonding. It was more that I didn’t know how to interact with her very well. I wanted to keep her off the furniture, but I was inconsistent. If I noticed she understood something one time, I got frustrated if she didn’t get it another time. I expected something from her that I wasn’t teaching her. I didn’t know how to teach her. I kept her with me any time I drove to the store. I took her to the dog park, pretty much anywhere I went, even when I traveled for visit family and friends in Ohio. She would sit with me in my recliner and I would love on her (again, the inconsistency when it came to furniture). Eventually I learned to not get so wound up about her doing dog things. I didn’t worry about her being on the couch, etc. I felt better, but I was still thinking she deserved a better human.

Things started turning around when my friend Amy moved down from Ohio. Amy is far more easy going than I am… or than I was at that time. Having her in the house gave Mia another pack member to socialize with and also made me calm down. I was less apt to snap at Mia for just being a dog. It made us bond better. I noticed the change in her behavior. She was less skittish. She had her moments, but she and I both were much calmer after Amy moved in and got settled.

Two years passed and I rarely got upset with Mia and when I did, it wasn’t anything like the first year. I realized I couldn’t go at her if I needed to get her attention. I had to work on getting her to come to me. I couldn’t just scold her by yelling at her. She didn’t know why I was mad most of the time. So I stopped doing those things. I was more patient. I can credit Amy for sparking that change within me. I had always loved Mia very much. She was the dog that I had always pictured in my mind, but I didn’t understand how to adapt to her personality. I was used to not having to adapt to anyone. Amy moving in changed that and let me see the difference when patience is the approach over what I thought was discipline.

Career circumstances changed about the time Amy had moved in. My commute went from 15 minutes to sometimes over 90 minutes one way. This was in heavy Atlanta traffic. The job was already stressful. This led to a breakdown. I wasn’t expecting it, but the short version is I found myself in the ER and discovered they considered me a risk to myself (I wasn’t) and I was going to be committed to a mental health facility involuntarily. Amy was out of town, but on her way back. My main concern was for the animals at home. She was able to ease my mind that the cats and Mia would be fine. I went away for about a week. I may have been angry about it, but in the end, it was helpful. I learned how to manage my mental health and found medication that helped. I also realized I needed to make another change of residence.

Amy had already been talking about her desire to move back to Ohio. I wanted to move into the city of Atlanta so I could walk to work. I had hoped we would get a place together, but her heart was set on going back home to Ohio. As I searched for a place and worked with a realtor to sell my house, Amy made her arrangements to move as well. I started to realize that it would be difficult to find a place where I could have 2 cats and a dog. It wouldn’t help that most people thought Mia was a pit bull. Amy mentioned that she wanted to take Mia with her. Part of me wanted to say no. I wanted to keep Mia with me. I was just getting to feel like I was doing the right things for her and we were bonded. However, I remembered my experience with Boomer and I could see Mia was closer to Amy. She was also a 50 lbs. dog and I didn’t think it would be fair to try to have her in a studio apartment, which was what I was looking at due to monthly costs. I was going to be right in the city. I thought it would be best for her to stay with Amy. She was moving into a house with a big yard in Ohio. It would be better for Mia.

So it was that I moved to Midtown Atlanta shortly after Amy and Mia had moved to Ohio. It wasn’t long after I was settled in my new studio apartment when the pandemic happened. I had thought I would get to visit Mia some, but I haven’t traveled to Ohio because of quarantines and travel requirements. I have since realized that there are a significant number of people in the city that have dogs Mia’s size. I would have been over the 2 pet minimum, but had I found a bigger place, I might have been fine to bring her with me. I miss her a lot of days. I also know that she’s happier and has a better life than being stuck in an apartment where she can’t run free. The dog parks were never great for her because other dogs had to assert dominance over her. At her home in Ohio she doesn’t get subjected to that environment.

I moved out of the studio apartment once my lease was up and have a bigger apartment now, but I still wouldn’t want to bring her here. She’s Amy’s dog. I also know that I’m better with cats. I will be going to see her this summer though. I look forward to seeing her sweet little face and getting face licks when she sees me. I hope she still knows me, but I’m going to guess she will. I’ll be glad to visit Amy, too, but won’t be expecting the face licking.