July 2020 was the 4 year anniversary of the the arrival of the most gut-wrenching foster pup we have EVER had.

A little background - my husband and I, (and our son), have been involved in local Pit Bull rescue, for nearly a decade.

My family "specializes" in the hard cases. 

The dogs who have loads of healing to do - physical, emotional, mental, social, or all of the above. 

So, believe me when I say that we've seen some truly horrifying things.

But - nothing prepared me for what I would be faced with, after receiving a call from our rescue's president, four years ago - NOTHING!

My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, it was the head of the rescue I was with at the time. I answer.

The voice on the other line sounded so sad. The caller said, "Patti - the shelter called - we've got a bad one. He is in REALLY rough shape. Can you guys take him?" 

As is/was, my normal MO, I agreed without talking to my husband.

**I live by the mantra that I would much rather beg for forgiveness, than ask for permission.**

The caller said, "OK, I will send you his evaluation paperwork, and a couple photos. Prepare yourself - it is REALLY bad!"

I sat there, incessantly hitting the refresh button in my email, waiting for the details to hit my inbox.

After what seemed like 12 hours, (was in actuality, like 10 minutes), the email arrived. 

I opened it...

and literally lost my fucking breath.

What I saw in those photos stole all the strength in my body. I felt like a puddle of Patti.

Before I read any of the evaluation information, I just sat, staring at the photos, and sobbed.

I cried out of sadness.

I cried out of fear.

I cried out of rage.

I cried like I hadn't cried in a LONG time.

In a nutshell - 

A good Samaritan found this dog in a field, literally moments from death, and called animal control for emergency assistance.

Once the dog was at the shelter, they scanned for a microchip, and any shelter volunteer, or rescuer's worst fear came true - this was a dog that had been adopted out, from the very same shelter, the summer before.

At time of adoption, he was a stocky, healthy boy. 

Now - he was completely unrecognizable.

It was abundantly clear that this sweet angel baby had been used as a bait dog in a dog fighting operation.

* He was sickeningly emaciated.

* He was covered in bite wounds.

* His neck was literally quilted in scars from an unfathomable amount of previous punctures.

* His teeth had been filed down.

* He had two huge abscesses, one on each side of his neck.

* His back legs had virtually zero muscle mass, and showed indications that they had possibly been tethered.

Even with all of that going on, volunteers at the shelter who cared for him, reported that he was still a super loving fellow.

Anyway - while logistics of getting this babe to me were being worked out, I set out on a quest to find THE perfect name for this sweet, sweet, soul.

It didn't take me long to pick it - Bodhi.

Bodhi is a Buddhist term that means, (loosely translated) - the enlightened one, who has now been liberated from the cycle of death and rebirth, whose karmic suffering is over, and since they are the purest of heart and soul, (free from hate & greed), they are destined for nirvana (heaven). 

Tell me that isn't the most perfect name for this guy who had suffered so horribly...

Finally the day had come when Bodhi would arrive.

Even though I had seen photos of him, I was utterly taken aback when I first laid eyes on Bodhi.

I was horrified.

I was disgusted.

I was feeling VERY VERY stabby.

I was absolutely heartbroken.

I made a vow to Bodhi, in that very first moment together, that I would NEVER let anyone hurt him again.

That night I decided that I needed to use the gifts that God gave me, a strong mind, sharp tongue, and balls the size of Europe, to be Bodhi's voice.

To share his story.

To educate.

To encourage.

To advocate.

and...to honor all those innocent pups that weren't as "fortunate" as Bodhi.

#fuckmichaelvick

So - I created Bodhi his own Instagram, and Facebook accounts, where his supporters could keep tabs on him, but where I could also share his story in a very visible way - and in HIS voice!

**Feel free to peep his Instagram here, and his Facebook here**

This is the beginning part of Bodhi's story, from his perspective:

I was in an #animalshelter last year. The workers and volunteers there said I was a happy, go lucky guy. Whatever that means. All I know is that I wasn't sad, or scared, or hungry, and I was treated nice. One day I left the shelter with this lady; the humans called it my adoption day. Everyone was so excited, so it had to be a good thing right?? 

Not long after that, things changed, a lot. I was #scared. I was #confused. The humans were not like the nice ones I knew; they were #bad. I was hungry. It was loud. The bad people did this weird thing to my teeth. It hurt a lot, and they felt smaller, and flat. There were other dogs, and I wanted to be friends with them. I don't know why, but they didn't like me; they were mean. What did I do? Why did they want to hurt me? The bad people let the other dogs bite me - a lot. My throat. My neck. My head. My ears. My legs. They all hurt so so bad. I wanted it to stop. I was so scared. The dogs must have been really angry with me, because they hurt me over, and over and over. I was so hungry; my body was so weak. It felt like I was dying. 

I think I was with the bad people for a very long time; I watched the seasons change a few times. Then one day, when I was too weak to move, when it hurt to breathe, the bad people took me outside. I was so excited. Were we going for a car ride? Were we going to see my family? I'm sure they missed me terribly. All of a sudden, the car stopped and the bad people threw me in an empty field, and left. I was all alone. I wanted to die. I thought I was dying. I was so scared. I couldn't move. Then I remembered all the nice people I knew. I wanted to see them again. I focused on my breathing. I knew that so long as I kept breathing, I would be ok. 

Suddenly I felt a gentle touch. I opened my eyes and they darted around, trying to see who was there, who was touching me. A strange human was looking at me with big, sad eyes, and speaking to me gently. I wasn't scared anymore. The nice human picked me up. It hurt. My body was still so sore. My bones ached. My stomach was empty. But I wasn't scared. I just knew this person wasn't going to hurt me. I was right.


Next thing I know, I was back at the shelter. I looked for my friends; the nice people from before. I wanted to tell them all about what happened to me, how scared I had been. How hungry I was. How the people hurt me.


Oh my goodness - I found them. I found my friends! I was so excited. Why didn't they look excited? Why were they crying? Why were they rushing me around? Why were they talking so fast? 

Then there was a super bright light. It hurt my eyes. A guy in a white coat appeared, and blocked to light. Then I went to sleep. When I woke up, I still hurt, but it was different. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was laying on some cozy blankets, and my friends were there. Now they were happy to see me. I heard them say words like #emaciated #baitdog #starvedalmosttodeath #dogfighting #notgoingtomakeit, and a bunch of words I'm not allowed to say. I didn't know what the words meant, but it didn't matter - I wasn't scared anymore.


Everyday I grew #stronger. Everyday I was less #hungry. The number of friends I had, got bigger and bigger. One day, not long after that, when I was feeling better, my friends said new words, #rescue #educateabull #kate #foster #patti. These new words sounded fun. I was excited to learn what they meant.


The next day, all of my friends were crying and telling me #goodbye. I was sorta confused, but I got lots of hugs, and smooches and treats. There were lots of #pictures taken. One of my friends put me in her car and we drive away, leaving the shelter in the rear view. My friend kept telling me how I was going to meet my #fostermom, and I was going to feel #loved #safe #happy and #neverbehurtagain. Whatever - I was busy eating all her treats. 

We pulled into a parking lot and got out. I stretched really big and was happy to see houses, and a playground, and a church. All of the sudden, my friend was really excited; she said my fostermom was here. I looked around and saw a nice lady. I wigglebutted all the way to her. I wasn't scared. I felt safe. I was comfortable. Fostermom knelt down, and I sniffed her good; she smelled like other dogs and flowers. I like her. I smooched her. Then I jumped up into her truck so we could go #home.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of Bodhi's story!