Thankful for Maverick

I'm thankful for my beast of a dog, Maverick. Josh can't NOT have a dog. He had a bull mastiff named Bella when we started dating, and she was his pride and joy. She ended up with an injury from being hit by a car, and never did heal well, ending up with other health issues. We had to put her down in December of 2009 after a couple of months of trying to get her well, and Josh was pitiful. By late January 2010 he was already itching for a puppy. He came up with the notion that he would get me a puppy for Valentine's Day... "Do you want a German Shepherd or a Rottweiler?" I really wanted neither, especially not a puppy. We'd been through two litters, a total of almost 24 puppies, in Bella's short life and I'd come to the conclusion that while cute, they're disgusting and messy. However, he was relentless, so I found a litter of Rotts in Montgomery for a decent price. The owner is a breeder, but doesn't breed often, and this litter was an "accident" in which he didn't know which male was the father, so they were unable to be registered. His honesty was compelling, and we couldn't wait to meet the little bears. There were three puppies left when we went by. Two females, one male. He brought mom and one of the prospective fathers in for us to see... at which point Josh sat on his hands (he's scared of dogs). We loved on the babies and watched them for a while to see which one we wanted. The male was such a little fatty, and he kept pulling a blanket off of the ottoman. Josh was drawn to his destructive behavior (go figure) and said he wanted that one. I was game, because I didn't want to fool with the prospect of ever having MORE puppies. He HATED being crated and fussed for almost a month straight every time we locked him up at night. He would shred anything in his path. Toys. Shoes. Clothes. Pillows. Blankets. EVERYTHING. One time he managed to pull an entire pillow through the slats of his crate and destroy it - stuffing everywhere when I came in the next morning. He was absolutely the CUTEST puppy, though, and it's a good thing, because it kept me from killing him some days. He grew so fast, and was so awkward during his growth spurts. I had never had a puppy before - I'd only had one dog my whole life, and he was much older when he came into our family. He and I bonded since we were home alone the nights that Josh was at the station, and he's my baby. He had to become an outside dog when we had Carter, mainly because we were gone from the house for a month. He doesn't get nearly the attention he deserves, and I'm trying to work on that. Carter is leery of him since he's so big (Mav weighs nearly 130 lbs...) but I'm hoping in the next year or so he'll start getting more comfortable with him so we can spend more time around Mav. He's my protector, and our entertainment - we call him the Sandlot Dog... our neighbors kids lose more footballs and frisbees. I'm thankful Josh ignored my pleas and pressed the subject - I can't imagine our home without this brute.

Little Bear - he was maybe 3 months old here...

and had torn up that fleece from a blanket