In 2015, I lost my Pitbull to cancer at age 12. She was my everything. The emptiness I felt was overwhelming—a hole in my heart that not even my husband or stepdaughter could fill. It was a feeling I had never experienced before.
My husband suggested we adopt a dog, and I agreed. The next weekend, we headed to Texas to adopt an adorable Pitbull. But as we were on our way to meet her, something just didn’t feel right. Trusting my gut, we turned around and headed back home.
Later, while scrolling through Facebook, an ad caught my eye: “Brindle Pitbulls for sale – $150, four males and three females.” A couple in New Orleans had just posted it, and for some reason, it felt right. We decided to go take a look.
When we arrived, the couple was amazing, and I got to meet both parent dogs—both incredibly sweet. Then, I started looking for “the one.” I counted only six puppies and couldn’t find the seventh. Turns out, she had dug herself a little hole in the dirt to stay cool and was completely passed out.
I picked her up and tried to play with her, but she wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. That’s when I knew—this was the one.
We paid for her and took her home, and let’s just say, it was a ride to remember. She hated car rides from the start—throwing up on me twice and peeing on me three times. Not exactly the best first trip together!
Having had a full-grown Pitbull for the last 11 years, adjusting to a five-week-old puppy was a whole new experience.
Today, Gracie is, and always has been, my best friend. Yes, she’s spoiled, but she’s also well-behaved. And with those big, irresistible eyes, she always gets her way.
Gracie truly is my “Saving Grace.”
