We found Lenny on the side of the road last year. I’ve had dogs all my life, but I had never met one who didn’t know how to be a dog. A year before finding him, I had lost my American Pitbull Terrier, who was so confident and full of life. Lenny was nothing like her—he was broken in ways I didn’t know how to help at first.
In those early days, everything scared him. Leaves falling from trees, people walking by, even being alone for a moment. He jumped on us, shredded shirts, cried endlessly when we left. I remember lying awake at night, exhausted and wondering if he would ever feel safe.
But slowly, at his own pace, he started to heal. After a year of patience, training, and love, Lenny has become a completely different dog. He goes to daycare twice a week and has so many puppy friends. He isn’t scared of strangers on walks anymore. He’s learned sit, down, place, leave it, and so much more. He smiles now. He plays. He trusts.
People talk about the 3:3:3 rule, but sometimes it doesn’t work that way—and that’s okay. Lenny was more of a 9:9:9. And as much as I’d like to take credit, I can’t. He did the hard work. He found his courage.
When I think back to those first few chaotic weeks—when I was tired and unsure—I remember reading through this subreddit, clinging to success stories for hope. Today, I get to share Lenny’s. And my heart is so full.
