(I’ll add a photo of us from this year later.)
Israel Conri Hamza Wenceslas was born sometime in 2006, I think in the late summer months. I made up his birthday to be July 2nd. That date is also significant for other reasons, but now they don’t matter.
He was a terrified 5-month-old pit bull puppy slinking across the snowy parking lot of the humane society I used to take photos at. I had that Sunday morning off for some reason. The night before I only worked a couple hours before meeting up with Rachel and Adam at Pizza Hut. I distinctly remember the conversation turning to whether or not I wanted another dog and I said I really didn’t want to get another dog right then—I was happy with Judah.
Fate thought otherwise.
January 21st, 2007 a stranger walked in ahead of us at the shelter and Rachel and I both noticed the gorgeous pit bull following close at his heels, wearing only a black nylon collar, no leash. We came in behind him while he asked the girl at the desk if they could take the dog, he didn’t want him anymore. They had to turn him away, the shelter is no-kill and was at capacity, he would have to be put on a waiting list. The guy left with the advice to take the dog to another shelter.
I stood there staring at the double doors leading into the back area of the shelter, over the head of the receptionist, and asked to no one in particular, “Should I go get that dog?”
Rachel told me I should. The girl behind the desk was ecstatic and said yes, yes, go get him!
Damn the consequences—the puppy was too scared, too beautiful to let go. I rushed out the doors and called to the man getting into his truck, the scared puppy hiding underneath it.
“You don’t want him?” I asked.
He stopped, the door open to get in while he tried to get the dog to come out from hiding. “No.”
“Any particular reason?” I queried, closing the distance between us, Rachel following.
“I got him from some guy a while ago but I already have an older dog and they don’t get along. He stays locked up all day in a room. I can’t keep him. If I take him to another shelter they’ll probably put him down.”
My mind was racing. WAS I REALLY GOING TO TAKE THIS PIT BULL!?!?
“I’ll take him,” I said, not caring what happened when I showed up at home with another dog. SURPRISE!
“Okay…his name is Dozer, if you want to change it.”
I laughed—DOZER! Ridiculous. I crouched down and called to the frightened puppy still hiding under the truck. He showed his teeth in a smile and it was such a surprising expression—I had never seen a dog do that before and I knew it wasn’t a sign of aggression.
He came to me, keeping as low to the ground as possible, tail down and wagging nervously, ears back, still smiling in the most submissive way.
I picked him up without hesitation and thanked the guy, turning to walk back into the shelter. He drove off and I never saw him again—I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd now.
Back inside the shelter I was still going to take pictures, even though my heart was pounding, blood racing with adrenaline. Another dog! A pit bull! I was insane.
The girl behind the desk cheered, “You saved him! You got another dog!”
I laughed and said yeah, sure…
He stayed behind the desk with them while I took pictures of some cats, then returned to collect him. Everyone was looking at him where he lay under their chairs, scared out of his wits.
“Name him Capone!” they said. I scoffed as I looked at him. He wouldn’t be Dozer, Capone, or any other stereotypical pit bull name.
He was going to be called Israel, because I already had a Judah. For a few days I toyed with calling him Nahum, a gentle name, but he was destined to be called Israel—wrestles with God—a strong, forceful name that fits him to a T.
I got him from behind the reception area and we left to take me home, not knowing what story I should tell my parents.
His first photo. He was shaking, uncertain, his eyes wide with the unknown.
I brought him home, my parents were still away at church, and he met Judah. He was half her size, only about 30 pounds then. They got along great. I took them on a short walk to get them better acquainted. When I got back my parents were home and I heard my dad shouting from in the house about the new dog. My mom called my cell phone from inside the house.
“WHAT IS THAT!?”
I explained in a half-lie that I rescued him, the shelter put him on a waiting list. At this point I didn’t know if I was going to keep him or not—but in the meantime he needed a place to stay.
I was arrogant and stupid for springing it on them…but I couldn’t leave him in a system that hates his breed.
The first few days were interesting. He stuck to me like glue. He growled at my mom for staring him down. He showed a lot of issues—neglect, unsocialized, reactive. I enrolled him in puppy classes. I took him out and got him used to being around people and other dogs.
Since then we’ve been through a lot. He’s caused a lot of pain in my life. He’s broken out of several kennels and had the cops called to the house by setting off the alarm. He decorated the house with flour, brown sugar, and vomit while I was away at work the first week I moved into my house. He killed one of my cats. He tore open Judah’s leg in a fight.
Israel is needy, strong as a bull, hates men, would love to kill other dogs he doesn’t know, he has a love-hate relationship with cats, and he literally lives for food. He gets hit on by people wanting to breed him any time we go for a walk. Kids are scared of him but he loves their attention and will sit calmly to be petted—but that’s only for children. He’s an overgrown lapdog. He has to sleep under the covers with me. He learned really fast that my dad will give him scraps of food if he waits in the kitchen with him. Next to me, he loves my dad more than anyone else.
With Judah I have a companion. A soul mate. An affinity I never thought I could have with a person let alone a dog. But she doesn’t need me.
Israel has always needed me. He lives for me. He sits at my heel waiting for my next move. His eyes always look for me.
I learned how to be loved by this dog.
He is my beautiful, terrible Israel.
