Without doubt, Mia was a force of nature. As far as anyone knows she was born in a Niagara Falls motel room, born to be a killing, fighting dog, for the existing underground and illegal dog fighting events that still take place.
She was a Rottweiler and a lovely example of her breed.
We do not know what her first early months were like but can only surmise that for reasons most ordinary dog lovers could never understand, she somehow failed the aggression training she was inflicted with.
I’ve lived with and loved dogs all my life, and have no comprehension of just what trauma, physical and mental, this young puppy was subjected to by the humans who could inflict such inhumane aggression training on any young puppy.
But somehow this puppy was ‘let go’ from its awful human beginnings, and as a badly traumatized young dog found a new home, probably for all the best reasons, a potential ‘forever home’ with humans who just wanted a puppy to love and be a part of their family.
Sadly, this was just the first of six families.
Six times, between the age of probably one year and three years old, she was adopted by families who, with all their best intentions, found they were unable to keep her.
Then she really did find her forever home.
A casual chat with a remarkable young lady, an ultimate and genuine animal lover, particularly where any abused or rescue situation was concerned, resulted in Mia coming to her new home, just to be assessed.
Rural legend has it that as they arrived with Mia on her first visit, and handed her over to this young lady for a first introduction, and before it even began, the owners had already hopped back in their car and left.
If all of us could be so lucky.
Mia had found her new forever home! She was never destined to be a lapdog or to want a bed in a home as a part of a human family. Why should she? She only had reasons to question anything humans had ever done to her.
Instead, she found a home with a neighbour of ours, with a kennel inside a barn, with access to an outside space should she want it. She was fed and watered without ever being asked to be anything other than herself.
I began walking her each morning to see if I might still be able to take on a new puppy of my own and give it maybe 12 years of good active exercise.
When I arrived and opened the barn door it was always to wonder which Mia would greet me. Sometimes, particularly if she had some treat in her kennel than needed guarding, she would snarl, bark and not want me anywhere near. And on a few occasions, and she chose the day, she had apparently no wish to go for a walk and would just create a fuss and stay in her kennel.
The more memorable ‘Mia moments’ included coming nose-to-nose with a dog and immediately going into attack mode, wrapping her lead around my legs in the process and literally pulled my feet from under me. I still have a protruding bone on my left shoulder as a result, a 50-percent separation between my collar and shoulder bones. By the time I was back on my feet the other dog and owner were already retreating without ever being close enough for the dogs to get at each other.
When I did decide I still had enough in me to take on a new German Shepherd puppy, Juma, it would have been unthinkable just to stop walking Mia, so we introduced the two of them in the huge arena. You would think they were trying to kill each other, certainly on Mia’s part. For ten minutes she chased him, snarling, barking and biting, then, suddenly, she would just stop and lie down, looking very pleased with herself. Juma realized quite quickly that then it was his turn, and he would chase her for ten minutes with the same sound effects of real mean and angry dogs.
During the following seven years, when both came on our morning walks, including many similar ‘play days’ in the arena, neither Juma nor Mia ever suffered any single scratch or bite between them.
On another occasion Mia had been limping during our walk, and I thought she may have picked up a splinter in one paw. Waiting to cross the road to take her home I had Juma sitting on one side and Mia on the other.
Without thinking I just leaned down and picked up her paw, at which point she sunk a couple of teeth into my forearm. That hurt, and as we walked her back to her kennel her owner nearly freaked out as I was leaking blood all over the place.
And a final instance, for no reason I could fathom, was when I brought her back home one morning and I leaned down to take off her collar, something I had done each day for nearly seven years. As I did, she tried to grab my hand, but this time I managed to move quickly enough to avoid being bitten. Seconds later I took off her collar without protest.
On her final day we had enjoyed our normal walk along the trail and back, Juma chasing his stick into the brush, and Mia having an occasional little snap at him for having too much fun. We brought her home, and she immediately went to the main house for her second breakfast, a daily spoil from her owner’s father.
When she came back to her barn she suddenly stopped and lay down. Then, when she attempted to stand again, her front legs supported her, but her back legs couldn’t. Eventually she was helped back to her kennel and chose to move into her small outdoor enclosure. She never managed to stand up again.
It was her time, and her choosing, her time at last to escape a human world that had wilfully and knowingly chosen to abuse her as a puppy, the most vulnerable time for any creature.
That she did enjoy her last seven years in such a caring environment is no less than she deserved, and I will always have only fond memories of her. Given the opportunity, she was no real Rottweiler— she was a ‘pussy cat’ if only she had known how.
Anyone familiar with the ‘Rainbow Bridge’ might understand just why I hope that one day I may see a Mia free of all the abuses too many of us supposedly caring humans seem to have no problem inflicting on those unable to defend themselves.
