I am Rita the dog

I was born about nine years ago somewhere in or near San Antonio, Texas. Some folks say one year for dogs is about the same as seven years for humans. If there is any truth in that, then I am about the same age as my present human mom and dad. Probably in the future I will just call them my mom and dad, because in a very real sense they are the only parents I have ever known — of course I must have once snuggled up against little brothers and sisters and felt their warmth and the delicious sweetness of my real mother’s milk. Its just that I don’t remember any of that. There are vague ideas that sometimes float around my brain, that make me think my first Master was tough and mean. My mom and dad now say that I used to cower when they first got me. Puzzling about the past serves no useful purpose , but sometimes it is hard not to.

The first thing I really do remember happened when I was about 6 months: I had no idea what was going on, but it hurt like hell and I screeched and screamed but couldn’t get away, and they took turns. You guessed it, I was brutally raped. Luckily memories of bad things tend to fade, so I can’t remember it all that well. One thing is for sure, I got pregnant. That must be the really bad thing I did that made my first Master so mad that he didn’t want me any more. But this stuff is real fuzzy, and this is why I don’t put much stock in that thing about dog years, because it would be like a 3 and 1/2 year old human girl getting pregnant, and everyone knows that is not possible.

Never mind all that; getting back to the story, that Master back then put me in the car and drove a very long way, and then opened the door and threw me out. Alone, sad, and scared I watched the car drive off. It never returned. There I was in a strange place, on an unknown street. What could I do? I wandered and then ran and when I was too tired to move I still tried. Home was gone forever.

Thats when I got lucky, the kind of thing that makes you want to believe in God. This lady noticed me and realized how scared I was and how lost I was. “Oh you poor thing”, she said as she stooped over and picked me up. She took me to her house. I was still pretty scared because who knows what she might do to me, and she had three other dogs that might not like me. My concern was not totally unfounded, because after a few days she took me to a vet and the next thing I new I hurt and had a big bandage wrapped around my tummy. It took me two whole days to finally get that thing off of me. And she put it back on.

Now that I’m nine years old I understand: whatever they did I was no longer pregnant and I was fixed for good. I had no choice in the matter. Dogs don’t get a lot of choice I learned early on. Well, I learned that lady who kept me from dying on the street really was a nice lady. She put up a sign about finding a red puppy about six months old, hoping my Master would come for me. But no one came. Finally, she put up a sign at her church that she had a healthy, cute, neutered little red puppy looking for a good home.

About a week later it happened. This car drove up and two people got out and rang the bell. Thats when we dogs barked and yipped and I did too, and my new Mistress opened the door and let them in. It was a man and a woman and they talked with my Mistress and she pointed at me. Then they talked to each other and the man reached down and picked me up. Boy was I scared. They took me in their car and drove off. All I could do was get on the floor and curl into a tight ball and be as still as I could.

They took me to their house, and the rest is history — they became my mom and dad, and I will fill you in on some of my adventures later. In case you are wondering what I look like, here is a picture from my flickr page that shows me back in December, 2006:

Rita, Dec, 2006

me, Rita, in December, 2006

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5 Responses to “I am Rita the dog”

  1. Khaki Scott Says:

    Rita,

    I love your blog! My own “rescued” 110 lb Catahoula Cur (Robo) sends his sympathy on the topic of your cat siblings. He too has been “used and abused” by cat siblings all his life (12 years now) – but we have a “house rule”… no fair biting or attacking anything that is smaller than you are. He mutters under his breath (pretty continuously) about that rule, but is just a lot of hot air and cats sense that immediately, so he is (unfortunately and all too often) their entertainment of choice. Do keep your blog posts coming. Both Robo and I are reading! 🙂

  2. rita314 Says:

    Hi Khaki,

    I am happy you and Robo found my blog. That rule you have sounds to me to be stacked in favor of cats 😦 . Over the years I’ve learned to tolerate Louie the cat, and he me, but my younger dog siblings (“the interlopers” ) can be mean. I hope you and Robo keep reading, and I’ll keep posting, but don’t expect a post every day.

  3. Two Videos « Rita’s Dog Blog Says:

    […] or my life or my brothers and sisters. Yes there is that “about me” post and the “I am Rita the dog” post and there is the one called “Interlopers” which is about my dog siblings. […]

  4. Auntie Barb Says:

    I found your blog today by searching for Gerrit Dou’s “Sleeping Dog.” There is a b&w photo of it in today’s Wall Street Journal Review section. Serendipity!

    Your collection of dogs in art is wonderful. I had to skip the cruelty post. And Rita’s story in the first post is unforgettable.

    I’m grateful I stumbled upon you.

  5. rita314 Says:

    Thanks for your comments, Auntie Barb. I’m glad you found my blog, but I don’t post much any more.

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