When I say “the dogs,” but you mostly see a Belgian Malinois in my images, you might wonder how many dogs there actually are around here.
There are currently two.
DRAGO
Drago is my Belgian Malinois, and he's four years old. He's a unicorn for the breed.
He'll chill when I need him to—but not for very long. The breed is known for high energy, athleticism and intelligence, and Drago certainly lives up to all of that. He knows over 30 commands and words at last count, but he's also quite capable of making good decisions on his own.
It's pretty spectacular to watch, actually.
I take very little credit for his awesomeness, other than the fact that I'm his friend. And I'm a good friend to have.
TALI
Then there's Tali, our long-haired German Shepherd. She's currently 10 months old and busy, busy, busy.
Tali was born into a litter of 11, and she almost died—twice—in her first two months of life. She was the runt, less than half the size of her littermates, and her mother's owner had to bottle-feed her regularly to make sure she was getting enough to survive.
She's a blue-coated German Shepherd, and at four months old, she still didn't have a home. All of her siblings had left long before her.
There are two kinds of runts in the dog world: the ones who simply grew more slowly because of where they were positioned in the womb, and the ones who are struggling because they're sick or otherwise not thriving.
Tali would have been the second kind if her mother's owner hadn't noticed how poorly she was doing and stepped in.
Long story short, she's here with me now.
She's loved beyond measure by my husband, Drago, myself and our little community. And she's thriving.
I could write pages upon pages about her development and about the gift of patience and protection we've been able to give her. Someday, I just might.
But suffice it to say that Tali has already given us far more than the grace we've given her.
And that's the thing about dogs.
Sometimes you think you're the one saving them.
Sometimes, they're saving you right back.
