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Gizmo is the first dog that I ever “rescued”. I didn’t pick him up off the side of the road. He wasn’t given to me by a friend who couldn’t keep a dog any longer. I filled out an adoption application with the Pug Rescue of Memphis – looking for a play pal for my then 1 year old pug Bruiser.

At the time, there were several rescues available but I was brand new to the process and relied on the Rescue group to determine which little guy or girl would be appropriate for my home and circumstances.

Did I mention I was required to do a “home visit” with the rescue group? My home. They needed to make sure it was suitable as a forever home to their wards. I was impressed.

They brought this poor, skinny, nearly bald pug – then named Brownie – along to see if he would get along with Bruiser. Once they were satisfied with my home, yard, the attitude of my only-Pug towards Brownie – they allowed him to stay for a one week trial.

Trial-schmial. When I first saw those huge brown eyes staring back at me full of hope for love and a never ending supply of chew bones, I knew there would be no trial. He was home.

A new name and three years later, there isn’t a day that passes where I don’t learn something new about Gizmo. The vet guesses that he is the same age as Bruiser, but because of the hard life he led before we met, he looks a bit older. He’ll never regrow the fur he is missing from his long days battling sarcoptic mange.

Can you believe that not too long ago he “learned” how to play? Typically he would run to his bed or the couch whenever Bruiser and our 3rd pug Pax would start to rough-house. Gizmo would jump in for a growl or two, but it seemed he would rather observe. One evening I noticed him participating in the fun, responding growl for growl and chasing or being chased. He was having fun.

Less and less often do I observe Gizmo display his habit of dealing with anxiety – lay on his bed, take a small stuffed toy between his teeth, bite down on it, and intermittently whimper.

In the evening when it’s “beddy-bye time”, his new trick is to run around in circles on my bed – both clockwise and counterclockwise – and instigate the other dogs into playing. Who is this hunk of furry sausage in my bed? Can this be my timid little Gizmo?

As silly as it sounds, my eyes tear up and I can’t help but sit and watch him. All the frustrations and stress of the day evaporates.

I have a T-shirt that says, “My Dog Rescued Me”. Ain’t it the truth?