It's Gia Vision.

I was found living on the street, and so I was brought to Chicago Animal Care and Control just like any stray would’ve been. The pound is not a great place for dogs, even though they try as hard as they can. If you’re not on the adoption floor (and it is really hard to get onto the adoption floor), you don’t really get much attention. Maybe someone from a shelter will come and look at you, and you get fed a few times a day and your run cleaned, but that’s it, really.

Luckily and unfortunately, I was able to live in the quieter medical unit. Both of my front legs were broken, I was covered in open wounds, and I was so emaciated you could feel my spin and ribs. I don’t really remember what happened to me. Maybe a dog bite, maybe hit by a car, maybe both.That’s what they think, anyways.

One of my front legs was covered in a cast and the other required surgery. I could kind of walk… my casted leg dragged on the floor, and the other was so weak it could hardly hold me up. Just walking a few feet winded me.

I was happy, though, that I found the strength to make it down the hall of the medical unit. Had I not, who knows what would have happened to me. I don’t know if I would have ever made it to the adoption floor, and who would want to rescue a gimpy German Shepherd that needed a ton of medical care?

Well, the Chicago Canine Rescue did.

I was greeted by four guests. They gave me some stuffed toys, a bone, and pet me. I rolled over on my back, happy for the attention because as much as the medical unit workers loved me, they had a lot of other sick dogs to tend to.

I left that afternoon with the shelter workers from CCR. They brought me to their vet, who removed the old, smelly cast that was on my leg and treated my wounds. I was given antibiotics to help the infection in my leg and pain killers, which the pound had not given me. Not only was my one leg badly broken, but my elbow refused to stay in it’s socket. So, they sent me to Indiana to see a specialist; they didn’t care that the specialist was 3 hours away. They just wanted me to get better.

He performed surgery, and when that didn’t work, my front, left leg had to be amputated.

While it’s a bit weird to hobble on three legs, I’m managing. I have a comfy place to sleep, I’m fed a ton of tasty food, and I’m loved. What more could a dog ask for?

It has been a very long, painful, lonely road. I’m so happy that despite all of the smaller, fluffier, healthier dogs that they could have rescued from the pound, the Chicago Canine Rescue decided to save me because they knew that no one else would.

(This is me before my amputation. I look good in blue, right?)

It was dark outside when I ran up to a strange man and his dog in a Chicago alley. I was tired and in a lot of pain, so it didn’t matter who it was— as long as it was someone who would listen to my howls! I don’t really know how long I was out on the street, but something seemed to be eating away at my skin. I was itching so badly that my neck, face, paws, and legs had lost their shiny hair. Instead, I had open, scabbed wounds everywhere.

I can’t even really remember how I found my way to that alley on the northside. But I did, and that man was the first person to stop and help me.

He leashed me up and with his dog, we began to walk. I was so excited, so happy. Finally, some help! But he did not let me stay inside of his home. His dog remained there, but we left again, walking through Roscoe Village on foot so that the open sores on my pads had to suffer the pain of the concrete even more.

We arrived at a small building and stepped inside. I was met with two new faces that peered at me from over a door. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but the man who found me sounded frantic and a bit rushed. They walked away and began talking into some head device, and while their backs were turned, the man who I’d thought was my savior sneaked out the door.

The two new people stared at me as if they weren’t sure what to do. I mean, who could blame them? I wasn’t really looking my most attractive at that point. But my appearance or breed did not stop them. The shorter, female one opened the door to come look at me, and I immediately began to rub my head against her legs in an effort to convey affection and to calm the burning itch on my face.

That night was a blur after that. I took another walk with the tall guy and howled the entire way there, absolutely devastated that once again I was being forced to leave. But we came to another building, and more new people began to treat my wounds.

The place that took me in and helped me heal was the Chicago Canine Rescue. After seeing the vet, I returned to the shelter, was given my own big crate filled with fluffy blankets and toys, and was given food and fresh water.

It must have been hard for them at first. I was (and still am) such a crazy puppy! And I know I required a lot of extra care because of the open wounds covering my face and neck.  I had to get regular baths and was on a lot of medication to help my skin heal… medication that I wouldn’t eat unless it was in that delicious thing they call cheese. And, well, I really didn’t like staying outside by myself for too long at first, and let me tell you, the shelter’s neighbors really did not like my singing.

I am still living at the shelter, waiting for the day. I know that someday, I will be the perfect dog for a certain man, or woman, or family. Someday, someone will see me and realize that, despite the bald spots that are still being filled in with hair, and my breed, and my singing, and all the energy I have, I am a great dog.

I am a great dog, and one day, I will have a home to call my own.

At six weeks old, I was found with my nine brothers and sisters abandoned under the stairs of a broken down, abandoned house. Somehow, we ended up in the care of the staff of the Chicago Canine Rescue. We were all afraid and really malnourished, but they weaned us back to health and happiness. It didn’t take long for us to all find homes… we were tiny, cute little things, estimated to be around 25 or 30 pounds. I was adopted out with my sister, so at least I wasn’t alone.

This placement did not last. Who knows why this family, who was at first so caring and devoted, lost their patience… maybe it was because one parent was sick, the other working, and the kids unmotivated to care for two young pups. But, I was not a happy dog, and all of it combined resulted in my and my sister’s return to the shelter.

I was terrified, and so was my sister. I did not know these people anymore, even though they’d taken care of my siblings and I when no one else would… and I was afraid that they would hurt me. I growled at them; I snapped; I did not want them to touch my face or ears or mouth or paws.

It took me a long time to warm up to these people. They tried so hard to win my affection, and it eventually worked. They fed me, cared for me, and made me understand what love was. But I could still not find it in myself to trust people. My “moms,” two of the girls who worked at the dog shelter, decided that I was worth the trouble and was worth being loved. They, along with the rest of the staff, struggled with my fear of people, but they were determined and had more patience than any dog could ask for.

It was a long road—three months long, actually— until I was able to be placed up for adoption. I went on walks every day and was shown, with treats and slow introductions, that the unknown humans who passed me on the street were not going to hurt me. I had such bad memories, and it showed in my reactions, but they helped me work through it. I was given a second chance at life even though any other shelter would have looked at me pityingly and decided on euthanasia. They did not give up on me… not once.

Today, I still live at the Chicago Canine Rescue in Chicago. I am now around 9 months old; I weigh close to 65 pounds (oh, did I surpass my estimated 30 pounds). I need a lot of attention and a lot of training because I am still working to overcome my fears, but the people at CCR have faith in me and my ability to be a wonderful companion. I love long walks, nylabones, beef jerky,  tearing up plush toys, and licking people’s chins.

One day, I will find a home.