Tiny has been a mischievous dog since the day we brought him home. A little while after Ramzie (our large pit bull-mastiff mix) passed away, we took Chloe to a pet store to get some new gear. The pet store happened to have a pet adoption day sponsored by a local pit pull rescue agency. There were two large pens staffed by volunteers. One had several dogs laying about, and the second had one dog frantically trying to escape.
I think I stopped in my tracks and Aly recognized the look in my face. I immediately started asking questions about the lone puppy. We were told that the littler of seven siblings was left in a sealed box in front of a shelter overnight. They had to eat their own feces to survive. The female puppy was isolated because she was being treated for worms.
I commented to Aly how cute I thought the pup was. We had both agreed that we’d get a male puppy when we were ready, as we previously had one male and one female pup. I didn’t care. I kept asking about the puppy until the volunteer let me pick her up.
Turns out she was actually a he. A small, emaciated, hyper puppy named Rooney. I covered him in my jacket and tried to warm him up. After I refused to put him down, Aly relented and went to the ATM to get money to pay the adoption fees.
We eventually named him Tiny because of his large paws. He didn’t really grow into his name and stayed our little 60 lb. lap dog.
To this day, at twelve years old, he’s still mischievous. We still find him trying to steal food, rip open boxes, eat toys, take our spot on the couch, and roll around like a man possessed.
Shown below, various photos of Tiny’s antics.