A fitting tribute to a rescued GSD

[Dogs of Romance]

I have my friend Steve's permission to post this tribute he wrote.

Who Are You? Where do You Come From?
by Steve Reierstad

You are curled up in your Dog bed next to my Desk, sleeping without a
care in the World. Somehow, you know that now you're finally in your
Forever Home, with people who will always love you and take care of you.
You sense that THIS Home is permanent, with no more being uprooted to start
over yet again with strangers in an unfamiliar place.

Every so often you open your eyes and look up at me. In those deep
brown eyes I see complete Trust, unfailing Loyalty, and the Unconditional
Love that only a dog can give. Sometimes you give your Cat (who thinks
he's a German Shepherd and shares your Bed with you) a quick sniff, then
settle back to sleep, secure in knowing that all around you is well.

So often I ask, Who Are You? Where do You Come From?

The people I got you from knew your name is Reba. That's what the
people at the Boarding Kennel in Texas, where you were abandoned by your
first (?) Owner, told them. Beyond that, they didn't know much about you.
You were to be boarded for a few days while your Owner was "on a Business
Trip." He never came back to claim you. You aren't Microchipped, and if
you have Papers, we don't know about them. The Boarding Kennel people said
you are "about 3," but they didn't know your Birth Date. I gave you one,
April 4 - the date I brought you home with me.

Your Bloodlines are pretty obviously German. More than that, we just
don't know. You're healthy, but still I keep an Eagle Eye out for any sign
of a Genetic Health Issue. Your former people said you were healthy. I
hope they're right.

But Who Are You? Where do You Come From?

When I got the call from our Vet about a German Shepherd that a couple
needed to place, something inside me told me you'd be coming home, even
before I called your People. They told me about bringing you to Maine from
Texas. They said their House (2-room Mobile Home) was too small for you.
They told me how their 3-year old Son would be starting School in the Fall.
They told me about their 2-year-old Daughter's Grand Mal Epilepsy and how
her medical needs prevented them spending "quality Time" with you.
Somehow, I think there was a lot more to it. You were close to the kids;
when you see small children now, you are very attentive and wistful, and I
know you still miss "your" children. I hope your People didn't tell you,
as they told me, that if they couldn't get someone to take you soon, they'd
have to send you to "The Shelter." The one for this County is a Kill
Shelter. No way were you going there.

You did your job of protecting your Home and Family when I came to meet
you. You barked a while, then stood squarely between me and the Children
while their Mother told me how they found out (by accident) that you only
understood German, and that you'd obviously been abused, most likely by a
"Man." They were right about that. When I first brought you home, you
would cringe and cower down if I moved my hand suddenly, but not when my
wife did it. Now when I move my hand, you try to search it for a hidden
Treat or playfully mouth it by way of asking for a pat. I wonder if
someone who didn't know what he was doing tried to train you for Schutzhund
and thought he needed to make you "mean" to be competitive. You have a
first-rate nose for Tracking, and now that I've learned some German
Commands, I think you could win an Obedience Title. I won't test your
Bitework after the reception you gave the Creep who showed up in the
Driveway at 7 A. M. trying to grub a drink from
me....

And still I wonder, Who Are You? Where Do You Come From?

It didn't take you long to fit into the Routine in the Pack. You
learned to trust me very quickly, even though the first thing I did when I
got you home was to eradicate the evidence of your encounter with a Skunk
the night before. You took a while to get used to the fenced-in yard; at
your old place you ran loose sometimes, when you slipped your Chain, and
several times nearly got hit on the road. It wasn't long before you
stopped cowering away from me when I'd curse at the Computer because the
(expensive) High-Speed Cable Connection was crawling barely above dial-up
speed. Now when it happens you put your head in my Lap, looking up at me
with those soulful eyes, trying to get me to relax.

The first two weeks or so after you came home with me, when I'd walk
into the room, you would roll over on your Back, Ears flattened, Eyes
averted, the picture of abject submissiveness. Now, even if I've only been
out of the room a few minutes, when I come in you grab my Hand, flop down
on your back with all four Paws waving, "talking" to me and smiling in
anticipation of your Chest-and-Tummy Rub. You've gotten to look forward to
your Grooming Session now, where before, you used to shy away from the
Brush. And your Nail-Trim? Well, we won't go there.

But always the Question: Who Are You? Where Do You Come From?

I'll never know the things that were done to you in the Past, what you
went through. It's probably better that I don't know. But I can guess,
though, and it must have been pretty ugly. Some remnants of it are still
there. You guard your food very carefully, although you let me move your
Dish while you're eating if I have to. (Starved? Maybe.) You're not really
Dog-Aggressive, but you don't want other dogs too near you. (Bullied by
other dogs? Possibly.) You don't like anyone in Uniform; the regular UPS
guy refuses to deliver here after the episode with the Screen in the Office
this Summer. (K-9 or Military training that was done wrong? Perhaps.)

But I'd rather concentrate on Now, and what I see now is that you've
positively Blossomed. You've taken a permanent place in the Pack. You try
to herd the Cats, just like the other dogs do. Every time there's a Howl,
your Voice is right there with the rest of them. You're always one of the
first to alert to a stranger, and you're as eager as the rest of the Pack
for your Walk or your Ride in the Car.

You have become the Dog you were meant to be, and now I think I know the
Answer to the first part of my recurrent Question: Who Are You? You are
why I rescue. Along with Baby, Magenta, Elyse (the Great Pyr you don't
particularly like), and Joseph and Brandi (re-homed), you are why I try to
let other GSD people know about GSD's needing Rescue, Fostering, or a
Permanent Home. You are here to remind me that other dogs are in Dire
Straits and need a Person to take their Part and step in for them.

As for Where Do You Come From?, I'll probably never know the Answer to
that. You were adopted in Texas and eventually found your way to your
permanent Home in Maine. That's the Short Answer, but somehow, I believe
there's more, much more to it than that. Maybe someday I'll figure it out.
What counts now, though, is that you're here, where you belong.

[agilitydog]

Very good! Thanks for posting that