Pit Bull Stares at Kennel Wall Until I Try This…
This is Ari. He didn’t come from a happy home, but he came from a home—and that matters.
Animal control seized Ari and seven other dogs from an unsafe living situation. The house was deemed uninhabitable. A classic hoarding case, but not the kind where someone is cruel. More likely, this was a situation that spiraled out of control—too many dogs, not enough care, and no way to fix it without help.
Ari and his siblings weren’t socialized. They didn’t know people outside of their world. When they arrived at the shelter, they shut down. Terrified. Frozen. Silent.
I’ve seen this before—dogs that don’t bark, don’t move, don’t react. That’s trauma, not just fear. But here’s what you need to know about Ari: he has hope. And today, we’re going to help him find it.
The State of Trauma
For a dog to be sleeping in the middle of the day in such a chaotic environment—it’s not always a good sign. Sometimes it’s normal, but other times, it tells me something deeper is going on.
This dog looks so similar to another. Are they related? Their behaviors are strikingly alike—eyes darting, backing up, cautious.
I want to give you a little teaser: by the end of this, we actually progress so far that he gets to go on his first walk. It’s pretty unbelievable to see, especially considering the state he’s in now. Stick around; you’ll want to see it.
Why We Help
If you’ve ever thought about helping dogs but stopped yourself because you feared it would hurt too much or you’d want to help them all, I get it. That’s a valid feeling. But I challenge you to look at it differently.
It’s not about helping every dog. It’s about helping the one in front of you, the one that needs you in that moment. And with time, you get better at it—not perfect, just better at knowing how to give love when it’s needed most.
Navigating Trauma Carefully
This is beyond fear—this is trauma. Fear shuts you down; trauma is debilitating. A dog in this state no longer has control over their mind or body, and they can lash out unintentionally.
People ask me all the time if I get bitten. I have been—but not in a while. You learn to read the signs. And oddly enough, getting bit makes it less scary. It doesn’t mean I’m reckless; it just means I understand the risks and know how to navigate them.
Building Trust
Right now, I’m just white noise to him. I’m not imposing. I’m just here, sitting. Letting time work its magic.
He’s starting to sniff—that’s a breakthrough. When a fearful dog’s nose starts working, they begin to engage with the world around them. I use my camera as a rearview mirror, watching without direct eye contact, giving him the space he needs to feel safe.
A treat? That’s progress. His lips brushing my hand instead of chomping? That’s trust.
Naming the Dog, Honoring His Strength
Shelter staff have already given him a name—Aristaeus. It’s Greek. He’s the god of beekeeping, cheese, herbal medicine, and prophecy. Fitting, because even in fear, I see his potential.
Dogs are resilient. In their greatest fear, they can still transform. And right now, Aristaeus is stepping into his name.
The Power of Patience
If you’ve ever wanted to help a dog like this, know this: you have to be okay with rejection. These dogs may not acknowledge you, give you love, or even look at you at first. You have to let them come to you.
I won’t do the scoop with him—at least, not yet. That’s when I gently hold a dog, giving them safe, comforting pressure like a security blanket. Some dogs will self-scoop, climbing into my lap when they’re ready. Ari? He’s not there yet. But one day, he might be.
A Moment of Joy: The First Wag
Cheryl, a shelter volunteer, stops by. She’s enrolling Ari in the dog walking program. “He’s going to love it,” she says. “In the yard, he bounces and dances.”
Wait. Tail wag.
That’s huge.
Cheryl hands me a treat stick. I pass it to Ari. Another tail wag.
That’s all it takes—patience, trust, love. This scared, shut-down dog is starting to believe in people again.
The Love Letter That Came at the Right Time
A package arrives from Pam and Ivan, a grandmother and grandson who watch Sitting with Dogs together. Inside? A box of Lamb Chop plush toys.
They always send one with each foster dog they care for. And today, Ari gets his.
He sniffs it. He takes it. It’s his now.
Perfect timing.
What Comes Next
Ari is still scared. But he’s also so much more.
- He’s resilient.
- He’s curious.
- He’s capable of love.
And soon, he’ll be ready for a home.
If you want to help, share his story. That’s how these dogs get adopted—someone, somewhere, sees a video, shares a post, and the right person finds their match.
And to Ari, I say this: You may not fully believe it yet, but you’re a good boy. And one day, you’ll know it.
Thanks for Sitting With Dogs with me.
