Sophie was a rescue. I got a call from the Doberman Rescue that I had worked with before. I had rescued two other Dobermans that were in need. The call was Urgent. Immediate removal was needed for an “at risk” Doberman.

She was ten years old. Black and rust female. Spayed. Surrendered with the message: “someone better come get her or I will take her to the pound, by 5pm today!”

Ten years, this dog was being surrendered by her original owner. Ten years old! I was so angry.

So, I took off in my rescue mobile (Honda element), with my best friend at my side. We pull into the driveway, there is a man in his late 30’s standing in the garage. I can see expensive bicycles, kayaks, and a baby stroller sitting beside a new BMW car. This man looks sad, as he explained “the dog” is his wife’s (soon to be X wife). If this rescue does not take “the dog” he will bring her to the pound. They euthanize at the pound.

I ask for some of her (the dog’s) history.

“She lived in the back room of the family house. When she would cry, whine, the wife would go out and hit her. “This poor dog learned that crying got her attention. He went on: “My wife would go out and punch her.”

I asked if he could bring her out.

This poor dog was crying out of loneliness. He slipped a large metal choke chain on her neck and brought her into the garage.

The poor soul stood there with her head lowered (classic beaten dog stance).

I clipped my leash to her collar, and asked her: “want to go for a ride?” Normally a dog jumps and bounces. She just looked at the ground and wagged her little nub like crazy.

I loaded that dog in the car, and after being given a huge bag of food, and the man saying: “I have been trying to get her weight up. (She was thin).

We drove off. Fast. Away from that house.

Three miles down the road, I realized I had no idea what this dog’s name was. I called the number that the Doberman rescue gave me, I asked the man what her name was. “Sophie”.

Sweet Sophie sat in the backseat. Aww poor baby, I pet her as she squeaked and cried. She ducked her head for fear of being struck yet again. My friend jumped into the back seat and held her, and petted her as I sped towards my home, and her new home.

Sophie settled in quickly. She loved all her new siblings. If she was overwhelmed, she never showed any anxiety.

There was Kevin, the black and tan Doberman male. He was recovering from a recent broken hip.

Then there was Quigley. This is an Australian shepherd who has muscular dystrophy.

There were two miniature Daschunds. Gretchen and Beanie. Sisters who just loved her. They were nine years old. (more geriatric siblings).

Then there was Buttercup. She was a rambunctious jack Russel mix, who just loved life, bouncing here and there.

Everyone had respect for the new arrival. Buttercup did not jump in her face, Kevin just walked up and said “hello”, no pouncing. Quigley could barely walk, so he just sniffed her, as she walked by.

Sophie now, has unlimited dog beds scattered throughout the house. She has toys galore, delivered every month from Bark Box. Oh, how she loves her bark box!

Sophie will sit and hold her foot out to the side (that’s her shake). She has no intention of letting you holding her foot. But she will “present” her paw. She cracks me up!

Sophie loves to go outside. She especially loves the doggie door. Sophie loves the option to go out whenever she wants. She loves to go out with her new brother, Kevin.

Whenever I go outside, Sophie follows, as does Kevin. Sophie was fascinated by the horses! She especially loves the miniature horses. They are so close to her size! Sophie was in love! Sophie could go right up to the chickens and smell them! And ducks, and cats, oh my!

Sophie did not have much exercise being locked in that back room, so we began to explore the yard. Then she began to run in the field with Kevin.

One day, she was running through the pasture, and she pulled a muscle in her back leg. She was limping. A trip to the vet confirmed, she had pulled a muscle! Sophie has “bowed” her tendon! So, no more running for this old girl. I received an anti-inflammatory medication for her.

After just one pill, she began to vomit. She kept vomiting. I took her back to the vet. She was allergic to the medication!

Sophie spent the night at the vet. I was so sad to have to leave her. The vet gave her IV fluids, and I got her the next day. She squeaked and cried when she saw me.

While she was spending the night at the vet’s, our miniature horse had her foal.

Little rebel was born. He was a tiny miniature horse. Black as night, with two watch eyes, and a white star.

Sophie got to come home from the vet, and as we got out of the car, the miniature foal came out.

Sophie was so excited to meet the foal, that she sprang out of my car and ran up to smell him.

At this exact moment the mother turned and, in an attempt, to protect her baby, spun and bit Sophie in her butt.

Sophie now has a “hate/love” relationship with the horses. She hates them for the bite, but loves them, and wants to interact with them!

Sophie is treated like the queen she is.

She has her own night-time bed, her own toy bucket. Sophie is a beloved addition to our family.

I was told the day I rescued her, “She is ten, she might not last the weekend”. Well it’s been over a year now!