I grew up in New York where my Aunt bred lovely, easy going, Golden Retrievers. I got to help raise the puppies, and that was where my love for animals began. I wanted a puppy of my own, and was constantly begging my parents for one, but they weren’t ready to add a dog to our family. I was disappointed, but persistent, and when I was in 8th grade my parents decided I could finally get a dog of my own from the shelter. This would be the start of a pattern that will continue through the rest of my life.

Like most people who visit a shelter, my attention was immediately taken by all the puppies. My little sister however, went into the back kennel and spent some time visiting the less adoptable adult dogs. She came and grabbed me by the arm and took me to see a skinny, cowering, black and tan dog in the last kennel. I was immediately moved by the sight of this dog who clearly needed help. I asked to meet her, and with some hesitation the kennel attendant brought her out. This scared little dog sat down in front of me, put her head into my chest and sighed. That was the moment I fell in love.

I had no idea what a Rottweiler was, or what being the responsible owner of one entailed. Nora, as she was named, was found on the highway with a heavy chain dragging from her neck. Because of her trauma, Nora was incredibly distrustful of everyone but me. This was really challenging for my entire family, and for house guests. There was a time when my parents thought of returning her to the shelter. But I refused to give up on Nora, who had shown me unconditional love while I struggled with Lyme Disease and the drama of being a teenage girl.

Nora and I attended obedience class, where I was taught to used a choke chain and told to smack her under the chin for misbehaving. This didn’t sit right with me, it felt wrong to harm my best friend in the name of training. But the experts my parents had paid to help us said it was the only way to deal with a Rottweiler. Over time, I stopped using those methods and began to explore the concept of positive reinforcement and apply them to my relationship with my dog. Nora and I became quite the team, and the trust we shared allowed Nora to trust in others.

Her hesitancy with new people was a lifelong struggle, but with management and structured introductions she could make new friends. If Nora became an excellent judge of character, and if she liked someone that told me all I needed to know about them. Her big smile and whole body wag could win over anyone, even the people who were scared of her. Nora came to love my wife fiercely, and her approval sealed the deal for me. When we all moved to Vermont, Nora taught herself to swim in Lake Champlain, hiked so many new trails with us, and acted as neighborhood watch during ice fishing season.

Nora was a truly incredible dog, who rescued me more than I rescued her. She saw me through the end of middle school, high school, college and moving out on my own for the first time. Nora gave me comfort and love whenever I needed it, without question. With Nora, I always felt safe. She changed the opinions of many, including myself, about what a Rottweiler can be. I will always be thankful for the lessons Nora gave me in the power of kindness and the resilience of our canine companions.

Saying goodbye to Nora was the hardest day of my life. I miss her every single day. Her legacy lives on in myself, and in all of the dogs in my life. She set the stage for me to become an advocate for all dogs, and the people who love them. Nora is the reason I know that no breed needs a heavy hand, and any behavior issue can be addressed using humane training methods.

Emily Lewis, Certified Dog Behavior Consultant