Did I rescue her? Or did she rescue me?

Last year I moved to a new country, got a new job, new apartment, new neighbourhood. Its a lot of change at once. Losing your entire social circle in one swoop was hard. Some time went by and things weren't getting any easier. When you can't make friends the next best thing is buying one, right? So I bought a rescue dog at an adoption event outside a pet store.

She was 1.5 years old at the time, with black fur (they say black dogs are adopted less), and had been previously returned by her first adoption owners. I felt bad for the hardship she had lived through, and decided to take her home. The first night was a little awkward. She really didn't like the kennel I set up beside the bed. She immediately started to tremble and howl. Most likely from spending too much time in one while being fostered, or at her first home. So I took a chance, and let her sleep next to the bed, not knowing what she would chew while I were sleeping. It turned out just fine. She curled up and slept the whole night.

She knew the basics: sit, stay, down, come, but only did them in the house when i had a treat. The real problem was she would get the zoomies in the evening every night. She would go balistic. She would run in circles growling, barking jumping up on us. She refused to let me sit and watch a movie or spend time on the computer. She was aggressive.

First thing I tried was taking her for longer walks. A tired dog is a good dog, right? Wrong. It didn't work. I took my 30 lb dog on 3 separate 45 minute walks a day. I would run laps around the lake. I played with toys with her in the house, spent time feeding her meals one kibble at a time while making her obey commands. I thought all this stimulation would help tire her out and ocupy her brain, but I was wrong.

I have had two dogs in my life and taken obedience classes so I figured she was maybe just trying to assert herself as dominant in the house. I would flip her on her back and stare into her eyes until she broke eye contact as a sign of submission. These regular challenges made things worse. It became a game where she harrased me then I would catch her, wrestle with her, and let her go to start again. I don't believe she ever saw it as a punishment.

She would chew things when we left the house due to seperation anxiety. She didnt like being home alone while I worked. I would rub her nose in what she chewed in an attempt to associate it with the punishment, but she felt no remorse. She was not improving. This dog that supposed to help me relax became a stressful chore, and a burden on my life. I had never had a dog that required this much work and constant attention.

She would bark at the door when the neighbours went into their appartment or when the garbage man came. She was aggresive and territorial. Caring for this dog had exhausted me, and taken over my life. The thought of returning her had crossed my mind a few times, but I knew I owed it to her to keep trying. If I spent the time I thought I would build the currency of trust through caring for her. Also I feared if she was returned a second time, as a fully grown black dog with behaviour issues her fate was grim. So it was not an option. Despite my struggles, when I adopted her, I made the decision to care for her. Whatever the cost; and that's what I planned to do.

After about 6 months of this behaviour I had tried most solutions to this hyperactive aggresive behaviour. I had given her my love, time and enegy, but I was at the end of my rope with this dog. This dog was supposed to help with my mental health. I needed a positive influence in my life, but she was exausting me, and driving me crazy. So I bought a device that emits a high pitched sonic frequency when she barks loud. Or when you push a button on the top.

It was night and day. After it went off about 4 times it was like a lightbulb went on in her head. She realized that her behaviour was bad. She instantly stopped barking at the door, and being aggresive when I watched TV. She finally had something to distinguish negative from postitive behaviour. After about a month the battery in the machine died from sitting on at the ready, but I didn't need it anymore. Her bad habbits had broken, and she now had a moral compass that was not present before. She now knew that being mouthy was bad, and licking was good. She knew how to communicate what she needed in new ways other then flipping out and running around like a possessed demon dog. Life was good.

Another six months has gone by, and I love my dog. She grew to become man's best friend, and provide the companionship I need. She cares for me and depends on me. She knows our routine, and is happy to wait until 8 am to lick my face after my alarm goes off, and greet me good morning. We eat breakfast and dinner at the same time, and exercise on walks together. She lays by my feet as I write this now, reminding me its almost 8 pm and it's time for another stroll. She was a good dog all along; she just didn't know know how to express herself. The time spent was worth it all in the end.