Watch her reaction to being told ‘Good Girl’ 🥹
I When I first saw her, I thought—Mastiff mix, maybe with a hint of Shepherd. The kind of dog that should be big and solid, all muscle and heart. But Dottie looked like she’d been deflated. Her paws were huge, her frame massive, but her head was hollow at the temples—so thin you could almost see the shape of her skull beneath the skin.
I crouched down outside the kennel. She stood there, trembling, all bones and gentle eyes. It’s one thing to see a dog who’s been wandering the streets for a few days—it’s another to see a dog whose body tells you she’s been starving for months. This wasn’t a “lost dog.” This was neglect.
Animal control picked her up as a stray, but the file told the real story: Penal Code 597, animal cruelty. Someone—turns out, a family member of her owner—called her in. That call might’ve saved her life.
Naming The Hurt
Dottie weighed only 56 pounds. For a Mastiff mix her size, she should’ve been at least a hundred. Every rib showed. Fly strikes had chewed the edges of her ears. Her fur was brittle to the touch.
The first time I looked her in the eyes, I could feel my anger bubbling up—because how does anyone let this happen? But dogs feel that energy. So I had to let it go, right there in that kennel, and trade it for calm. Dottie didn’t need my fury. She needed someone steady.
The First Treat
So we started small—with a treat. Her curiosity beat out her fear. She crept forward, lips trembling, and gently took it from my hand. That tiny moment felt like everything.
It’s easy to underestimate what a treat means to a dog like this. It’s not just food—it’s hope. It’s the first time the world says, “There’s something good waiting for you.”
The First Pet
Then came the next first. I shifted sideways, kept my voice low, and offered my hand under her chin. She leaned in. Just a little. But that lean said everything.
Her coat was rough, and tufts of hair came off in my fingers—not from shedding, but from malnutrition. Still, when I said, “Good girl,” her eyes softened, like she was trying to remember what those words meant. Maybe it was the first time anyone had said them and meant it.
The First Toy
You all send in packages for “Love Letters With Dogs,” and one had arrived from Japan. Inside was a soft toy. I opened it slowly so the sound wouldn’t scare her. She watched, curious but cautious, like a kid seeing snow for the first time.
I squeaked it. She flinched—then froze—then took a tentative sniff. When she finally mouthed it, her tail gave the smallest wag. That was it. The moment. The light switch flicked on.
Another package had a treat ball, the kind that wobbles and spits out snacks. I tucked it aside for her future—when she’s strong enough to play, and that wobble means life, not confusion.
The Scoop
- Breed: Mastiff mix, possibly with Shepherd.
- Weight: 56 pounds (should be closer to 100).
- Condition: Starved, fly strikes on ears, coat dull from malnutrition.
- Personality: Gentle, curious, shy but reachable.
- Firsts: First treat, first pet, first toy—all in one day.
The Hard Truth
The shelter notes said “no return to owner without animal control counseling.” Sometimes, neglect comes from ignorance, and education can fix it. But sometimes, it’s worse. In Dottie’s case, keeping her safe meant starting over.
That’s the line we draw now. She’ll never be hungry again. She’ll never have to flinch at kindness.
What I See When I Close My Eyes
Fast-forward a year. Dottie’s head is full and round, her coat glossy. She’s sprawled across a couch, a little overweight because someone couldn’t resist sneaking her extra treats. There’s a toy basket by the door, and that same squeaky toy from Japan sits on top—its fabric worn, its squeak a little tired.
She stretches, sighs, and leans her giant head against her person’s lap. The coffee machine hums in the background. It’s morning. She’s home.
Next Steps
Dottie needs a home that understands big dogs with bigger hearts. A patient family who can see past the bones and into the soul. Someone who’ll give her the slow meals, soft beds, and endless reassurance that this—this—is what life is supposed to feel like.
If you think that might be you, reach out to the shelter from this episode. Ask about Dottie, the Mastiff mix with the freckled cheeks. Bring a blanket for the ride home. Bring patience. Bring snacks. She’ll meet you halfway.
