The holidays are a time when we are encouraged to be grateful, show gratitude, and recognize the blessings in our lives.  But I doubt most of us give thanks for our companion animals.  Nor do most of us realize the gratitude that our furred family members show to us, in a multitude of ways.

Zip and Nick

My husband and I have a self professed zoo.  I won’t go into the sticky details of exactly how many animals call our house home, but let’s say we definitely bring the average up.  We have several rescued cats, and as of approximately a year ago, a rescued dog.  He came with the name Herman, which we promptly changed to Zip.

We had no idea what Zip’s background was, save that he was saved by a rescue organization on his last day before being euthanized at a high kill shelter somewhere north.  We have no idea how old he is – the rescue estimated between one and three years old.  That’s like saying a child is between 8 and 25, not much help.  He is obviously a Staffordshire terrier mix, with perhaps some beagle as well – in lay man’s terms, he looks like a watered down version of a pit bull.

Zip came with challenges.  We soon learned Zip was terrified of men.  He would growl, hackles raised, and bark at any man who approached him.  But if you could see behind him, from my vantage point as I held his leash, you would see his tail tucked far, far, between his legs.  Had he been abused?  Maybe.  He has no visible scars that we could tell either way.  Did it really matter?  Not really.  Afterall, we are dog trainers schooled to help just these types of situations.

Most people would conclude that Zip was an aggressive dog, based on his behavior.  In fact, that was exactly what one family did conclude.  They had him for three days before returning him to the rescue.  Three days, and then it was back to the kennel for Zip.  A couple of months later, we found him.  The truth was that Zip was scared dog who did not know who to trust, if any person was indeed trustworthy.

Recently, we hosted a party at my house.  There were about twenty five people milling around – many of them, men.  Did Zip spend most of the time locked away in a kennel somewhere so as not to bite anyone?  Nope.  In fact, my cousin adored him so much, she declared he was coming home with her.  Aggressive dog, indeed.

I am grateful for Zip.  I told my husband yesterday that I felt sorry for the family that returned him.  They have no idea what they missed out on.  This morning as I woke up, Zip was warming my side as he lay sprawled, snoring lightly next to me, and I thought about the courage it must take to be a rescue dog.  This dog has done in about only several weeks what I am convinced would take a person much longer, and years of therapy to boot.  He now believes there are people worthy of his trust – and I am grateful that he has chosen to put his trust in us.

So this holiday season, as you contemplate your blessings, don’t forget to count the furry members of your family.  And, as one picture on my wall says, “When I count my blessings, I count my dogs twice.”