a rescue’s story

Friend, let me tell you about my boy, Freckles. 

Freckles was a spotted pit-bull red heeler mix who first made his appearance on a doorstep at a house in Mississippi in 2015. He was just a pup, drastically underweight with his ribs showing and his ears clipped. We suspect he was raised as a fighting dog and either escaped, or was let loose because fighting was no where in his blood. 

The family who found him gave him to our beautiful friend, Shelly, who ran a rescue shelter in Mississippi with so many other furry friends fortunate enough to come across Shelly and her team’s generous love and care. At the time, my husband and I were interested in getting another dog to accompany our first dog together, Sandy. Shelly introduced us to Freckles shortly after he came into her care,  and she couldn’t stop talking to us about him. 

He was kind, loving, gentle, sensitive, and got along so well with children, she would tell us. “Let me tell you what Freckles did today!” She often would say. “You need to meet this dog… he is the sweetest boy and he would love you and your family so well…”

Yes, Shelly, you were so right.

It took several months for my husband and I to decide to take Freckles in. Truth is, we were skeptical at first. We had heard all the things about pit-bulls… how temperamental they were…how dangerous… how it would be a mistake to have kids around a dog like this. Apparently, other families may have felt this way too, because multiple people before us expressed interest in Freckles at the shelter, but never committed to taking him home.

Thanks to Shelly, her persistence, and her sincere love for this spotted boy, we decided to commit and make him ours. 

Freckles, my Mississippi boy, finally moved away from the shelter and came to our home in South Carolina in 2017. Our friends arranged a caravan for him and he was driven our way. 

I remember the day I met him for the first time. Honestly, I was quite shocked by his appearance in person. I had only ever seen him on camera or in pictures. I had never seen anything like him before. He looked like a Dalmatian, but with red spots. He was strong with the body of a pit bull, and at first glance, he looked intimidating to me.

I thought at one point, “Oh my goodness, what have we done?!” How will this work!?” 

Nevertheless, we welcomed Freckles into our home. The first few days he was with us I walked on egg shells a bit. His build made me a little nervous at first. Never had I owned a dog this strong and powerful, and the rumors of pit-bulls made me uneasy. The uneasiness quickly faded, however, as he never once showed any aggression to us, or to my children who followed years later.

His whole life, he was incredibly warm, gracious, sensitive, and charming in his own way. He welcomed my kids when they were born, and I have numerous pictures of Freckles on the floor with Laura as a baby. As a toddler, she would run toy cars over his body, and he would just lay there, simply enjoying her presence. 

Freckles was also incredibly attuned to me and my family. Between 2017 and 2020, I experienced an incredibly difficult season. Freckles “rescued me” with his steady loyalty, presence, and attunement in that season. For this, I am eternally grateful. 

Let me tell you one more thing about Freckles…His SMILE! 

This boy had a grin so wide you didn’t know what to do when you saw it. 

It would stop you in your tracks.

There was so much JOY. 

Outsiders looking in would think he was snarling.  His lips would curl up letting his big white teeth show, his head wagging side to side with excitement his body couldn’t hold in. When we would walk down the street, he would flash his smile at passers and I would see the look of confusion and fear… until they realized his scary “snarl” was just a big wide goofy grin. 🙂

Freckles, he was such a happy boy.

His favorite thing was laying on the ground, legs up, receiving belly scratches from his humans. He also loved riding in the front seat in my car with his face directly in front of the AC, going on walks at one of our local state forests, getting new treats and toys from our beloved neighbor, Susan, snuggles on the couch, and pats and kisses from my daughter. 

He loved so many things. 

What he loved most of all was us. 

saying goodbye

This past weekend, I had to do one of the hardest things. I had to take him to the emergency vet and put his life to an end. 

Long story short, he fought cancer his whole life, and it came to a point when he couldn’t fight it anymore. 

That Sunday morning in July, I woke up and knew instantly that something big had shifted within his body. He was going fast, and he was not the same boy he was the night before. 

His smile faded. He couldn’t get himself up by himself. He didn’t want to eat or drink. 

At first, I was in denial. I briefly found myself researching shrubs I wanted to plant in our front yard… because that felt easier than dealing with what was actually happening right before me. I had known Freckles was on a decline, but I was either in denial about it or too busy with my own life with two young kids to think too much about it, or both. 

grief & grace

Since giving birth to my now 5-month-old, my time with my dogs drastically reduced. My priorities were not on Freckles in the same way they once were. 

Over the last year, I have been juggling the transition from one child to two, navigating the “threenagers,” trying to keep our house a float, working my part-time job from home, meal-prepping, managing our downstairs Airbnb, trying to be nice to my husband, trying to keep up with friends, all while attempting to stay sane through it all. 

To Freckles, we were all of his world. 

In the last year of his life, he didn’t have that same place in mine. 

For this, I grieve I couldn’t give him more.  

But, what I am confident and sure of is a good and gracious God who loves his animals, and whose grace fills the gaps where I fall short. 

If God’s grace covers all of my relationships, then it covers this, too. If God takes care of us all, then I trust he cared for Freckles during the moments when I could not.

And let me tell you, in the last 24 hours of Freckles’ life, he was my boy again like old times. That Sunday, I spent much of the day laying on the floor with him, whispering in his ear what a good boy he was. I picked him up and took him outside in our front yard and laid with him on the grass. I kissed him over and over again through my tears. 

Then, in the early evening, I knew it was time for him to go. 

loving & letting go

I contacted a local emergency vet down the street from us and took him in. 

They led us to their comfort room where I laid with him on the sofa, awaiting the examination from the vet.  The vet staff came and confirmed what I already knew. It was time to say goodbye. 

I wept and I wept. 

And, thanks to some friends who took the lead with our kids, I stayed in that comfort room and held him close for a long while. Just like old times. My husband joined me and we finally said our goodbyes. 

His life ended while enjoying the very thing he loved the most: being loved and scratched on his belly by his humans, hearing what a good boy he was.

And then we left, and then came the deep ache. The sorrow. The reality that he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. That I couldn’t go back and give him more of the time I wish I had somehow made time to give.

The tears kept coming and coming. The guilt and the grief and the pain, but also the faith that I will see him one day. I believe that our animals will be a part of the new creation, joining with us in our glorified bodies free from suffering and pain. In his old age, the groanings of Freckles as he attempted to move his sick body resemble the groanings of us all as we wait eagerly for the redemption of our bodies in the new earth.

He groaned, and I groan with him.

Now, as I think about Freckles, my heart still aches. The grief is still very fresh. When I walk into my front door, I long to see him standing with Sandy, greeting me as did for so many years before. My front seat is still covered with his short white hair from when I took him to the vet last Sunday. His leash is still on my back porch. 

Freckles is not here anymore. But he has left me lessons I will continue to hold dear.

Friend, let me tell you what my boy has taught me:  

don’t judge a book by its cover

(And don’t judge a pit by its looks) 

Freckles carried the burden of the pit-bull reputation. There were times in his life when he was judged because of his looks. I saw it in people’s faces when we would walk by.  I too judged when I saw him for the first time. 

I don’t blame any of us for this. There are countless stories of pitbull accidents you will find on the internet, but these stories don’t always tell the full story. Let me tell you what I learned about Freckles, and what he taught me… 

Freckles was a delight. He wouldn’t hurt a child or a human, I’m convinced. 

But what he did love to hunt was a cat. 

Several years ago, when I was visiting my parents’ house, Freckles just couldn’t contain himself and pounced on a stray cat one night. This was a cat we had been feeding since I was a child and I was just devastated. That night, I drove him back to my home in Columbia and I was scared about what might lie ahead. My lack of control over him was evident in that situation with our dead stray cat, and it frightened me. 

What also became evident to me that night was the realization that I hadn’t yet trained him like I should. Like so many other owners of pit mixes (and many other dog breeds for that matter) I hadn’t done my part to set him up for success. He hadn’t had proper training, and this was my fault. I was responsible for the death of our stray cat just as much, if not more, than he was. 

Soon after, I enrolled him in a Canine Good Citizens course, and thus began an intense training program designed to set him up for success. We went to weekly sessions where I learned how to hold his focus and attention and maintain control when he was in a vulnerable situation (aka, when cats were near). With lots of practice and weekly sessions, we successfully completed the training and my boy became an official Canine Good Citizen, with his framed certificate in paw! 

I remember the day when we walked by the cat exhibit at PetCo and he so wonderfully remained calm and focused on me rather than dashing at the cats flaunting their long, tempting tails. I was so proud of my boy, and after that course, a deeper trust and bond between us was formed. 

Don’t judge someone by how they look. Don’t judge a pit either. There’s often a deeper story there, and people and animals will surprise you, if you let them. 

pure love at its finest 

Freckles had a love so pure. Those who knew him, really knew him, would experience this.

All he really loved was love. He loved to give love and he loved to receive love. He loved love. His love was unconditional and he loved me even in moments when my patience was stretched thin. 

The faithful love of Freckles reflects, in its own way, God’s love for me — freely given, joyfully received, and never earned. 

Thank you, Freckles, for showing me more of God’s love. 

what it means to have joy

As I’ve already mentioned, Freckles had the most charming smile. A smile so big that his whole body would shake with it. 

When he was younger, I actually trained him to smile on command when I said the word smile. 

Every time I’d say “smile!”, he’d give me that big goofy cheesy grin. 

Freckles also became so joyous and excited that at times he gave himself what a veterinarian once described as “the happy tail”.  

This is where his tail would wag so fast and so hard that when the tip of it hit a wall or the floor it would bleed. His white tail frequently had a red tip from all the happiness inside.

One time, when we left for a short vacation we had our neighbor, my uncle Stan, watch Freckles and Sandy while we were away.  Freckles adored my uncle Stan and every time he saw him, his tail would wag fiercely and he would get this happy tail. 

My uncle didn’t know about this until he walked into our house one day and saw small spots of blood everywhere. He was quite alarmed (understandably so) and reached out, concerned that something terrible had happened.

“Oh, it’s just Freckles’ happy tail!” I shared back. “It means he’s just so happy to see you that his tail probably wagged so hard that it started to bleed. Don’t worry about it. We’ll clean it up when we get home like we always do when this happens…”

Freckles was the most joyful boy I’ve ever known, and his smile would lift anyone’s spirit. 

It was a simple joy. He didn’t need fancy treats or a fluffy bed, he just wanted love and attention from us. He was content with our affection. Our scratches and “good boy’s” alone would make him smile. 

Freckles taught me that joy is not in what you have, it’s in who you have. 

He had us and we had him, simple and shared joy at its finest. 

I love you, Freckles. Thank you for blessing my life in more ways than you know. 

You’re such a good, good boy.