this post was submitted on 08 Feb 2026
225 points (98.7% liked)
Dogs
6802 readers
1119 users here now
A community about dogs.
Breeds, tips and tricks about training and behaviour, news affecting dog owners, canine photography, dog-related art and any questions related to dog ownership.
Rules
- Posts must be related to dogs or dog ownership and must not be void of content.
- This is a neutral space. No bigotry or personal attacks. Criticism should be polite and constructive.
- No automated content. This includes AI generated imagery, post body, articles, comments or automated accounts.
- No advertising or self-promotion.
- Illegal or unethical practices are frowned upon, and any comments or posts suggesting them will be removed. This includes, but is not limited to, backyard breeding, ear and tail cropping, fake service animals, negative reinforcement, alpha/pack/dominance theory, and eugenics.
- No judging or attacking community members who care for dogs with cropped ears, docked tails, or those from puppy mills or questionable sources. While we discourage these practices (per Rule 5), all dogs deserve loving homes and compassionate care regardless of their background or physical alterations.
- No breed discrimination, all breeds welcome. Our stance matches the ASPCA's official stance and is not up for debate.
- Citing your sources when making a claim is encouraged. Misinformation will be removed.
founded 2 years ago
MODERATORS
you are viewing a single comment's thread
view the rest of the comments
view the rest of the comments
My late boy Jake was also scheduled to be put down within 12 hours when we made the call to adopt him. He traveled for 8-ish hours from NM to CO in a van to get to us… then took the biggest fucking shit on his first walk with us.
We were used to like, medium dogs, and he was an 80-lb pit bull and pointer mix. An immovable object if he wanted to be. An unstoppable force because he just couldn’t help himself.
My husband and I looked at the shit, look at each other… and said “Ok, buckle in.”
9 years later, when Jake turned 13, we said our tearful goodbyes as he wagged his tail and ate his last meal, a bacon cheeseburger.
I love you, Jake. I still think of you.
I’m so glad he got to spend his life with you. It fills my heart to know that Jake got a chance to receive all the love he deserved. He looks like he was a very good boy.
Our beager (beagle boxer) Della has the same energy. Short, squat, and dense