My first rescue dog was Rocky, he was living in house in South LA, which I was renting. At first I was a little scared, I had never been a dog parent before, and didn't have a clue as to how to care for him.
All I really knew is that he needed food and water.
The owner for the house kept him outside, his dog house was under a covered patio, and he had very little room for exercise. For the most part he was cared for, but not really CARED for. I noticed the young man who was responsible for feeding him, would sometimes forget or that his water bowl was empty.
That is how our love affair began via the water bowl and kibble.
With time his sweetness and fantastic smile won me over. Shortly after my sister graduated from college and moved in with us for a few months. She also fell in love with Rocky, when time came for me to move, Rocky came with us, we just picked up his leash, opened the door to our suburban, and he ran right in.
Now, adopting an adult Pitbull, as my first dog was both rewarding and extremely challenging. I made a ton of mistakes, some which injured him physically, but I can honestly say I did my best and I am so grateful I did. He taught me selflessness love and I am grateful for having had the pleasure of being his mommy. When my sister moved-in with her now husband, Rocky went with them and they cared for him until his last breath. He was buried by my brother-in-law, Gregorio, with love and dignity.