I didn’t want to fight, but you poked me, prodded me until I became fearful.

I didn’t want to fight, but you kicked me one day until my ribs ached.

I didn’t want to fight, but in between bouts, you wouldn’t feed me, making me food aggressive. My belly growled and I would have done anything for even a moldy crust of bread.

I didn’t want to fight, but you trained me daily, building my stamina and my strength, running me to the point of exhaustion on makeshift treadmills.

I didn’t want to fight, but you kept putting me in a pit with other dogs, and you pushed, and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed…

I didn’t want to fight, but you made me…and I did.

It’s not uncommon to see dogs rambling through the country. Most farmers have land stretched as far as the eye can see, and most farmers have critters.  On any given day, you will see an old hound scrounging up some game, or out for a stroll through the pastures, rounding up cattle, or following behind a tractor.  What you don’t see every day, is a bloodied pit bull, with a zip-tie for a collar; puss-filled gaping wounds, and an eye socket torn apart, sitting on the side of the road.

Lucky enough, one of our Volunteers did. She stopped along the roadside, and cautiously evaluated the situation.  Let’s face it, pitbulls don’t have the best reputation around, and this one looked like hell.  As she opened the door, he carefully trotted over, licking her hand through the crack in the door.  Throwing caution to the wind, this 5’2” Volunteer, stepped out, reached for the back door to check for a leash, and “Journey,” the torn-up pitbull, throwing that same caution, hopped right in like he belonged.

There are moments in our lives that we are faced with a split second opportunity of making a decision. Oftentimes, as reasonable and responsible humans, we take the time to evaluate situations and possible outcomes.  However, in some fleeting moments, there are those times when God steps in, and without hesitation, guides you to do the unthinkable, the unreasonable, inconceivable.  Thank goodness, in this situation, our Volunteer just happened to be in the right place, at the right time with the right guidance.

Journey was in bad shape, and from the looks of his scarred little body, his eyes had seen battles far worse. The gaping hole around his eye was so deep and cavernous, you could see tendons, and the bone of his eye socket.  Old puncture wounds covered his neck, legs and torso, some still oozing pus.  A long scar along his neck, bare from any fur, all indicated this little guy had spent far too long in a violent situation. 

While not in critical condition, this little man will need vetting. Once his care is underway, he will be introduced to Canine Specialists to determine what future training needs he may have to recover from the horrible life he escaped.  We are including limited photos, as this investigation is ongoing.

We know nothing about Journey, other than his journey to freedom crossed paths with our Volunteer at the right place and the right time. We know he thinks he is a lap dog, even though his husky frame far exceeds any lap we have.  He loves to snuggle and rolls over, exposing his scarred tummy to get belly rubs.  While it must have been a new experience, he quite enjoyed his first bath, and even tolerated the cleaning of his wounds.

No, we may not know where Journey’s road began, but we certainly know where it will end—with a loving organization willing to look beyond the obvious, to the sweet sad eyes of a soul as pure as our own.

I didn’t want to fight, but remember?  You trained me well during those long endless days running on the treadmill. You built up my strength and my stamina.

I didn’t want to fight, so when the opportunity came, I fought back.

And with all the stamina that you gave me, I ran.

I ran. I ran. I ran and I ran.

…and this is my journey.