Once or twice a month I volunteer at our local Adopt-A-Pet. Last month, just before Christmas, I was put on puppy duty. (This essentially means cleaning the kennel and adoring the little pups. Giving them loves and hugs, etc.) Usually the puppy pen has small breed, fluffy, pups which are adorable but easy for me to not want to bring home. However, this last time, this little white and black streak of lightning came running out. One look at his adorable face made it very apparent that he had a little pit bull in him.
Every one who knows me knows that I am a sucker for any dog in the “bully” breed. Lets just say, he stole my heart right then and there. I knew that he would be the perfect fit to our family.
Now, for over two years my husband has been saying absolutely no to getting a puppy. When I say no, I mean a hard no. An absolutely no way, no how no. This is not per lack of trying on my part either. After all, we already have two large dogs.
When I got home from volunteering, I practically put my husband’s clothes on him and drug him out the door. I was hoping that by him seeing the puppy, his heart would melt too. We got to Adopt-A-Pet and the other volunteers immediately brought the puppy out. After about an hour and a half of saying no, John finally reluctantly did not say no.
Atlas was voluntarily released when he was just four weeks old. The gentleman who had him simply did not have the time to care for him. When Atlas got to Adopt-A-Pet he had not been socialized and was unsure how to act around dogs and people. Not to mention, no one was truly sure what breed he was or much about him. Watching him grow, our best guess at this point is American Bulldog and Pit Bull.
We were able to bring him home when he was eleven weeks old. There were over twenty-seven applications that were put in to adopt him! John and I were given the choice to rename him, and I felt that the name Atlas would be the perfect fit.