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‘I was only taking him in as a foster, then, but after six months, he came back to me, and I knew I wouldn't be able to let him go again.’: Great pyrenees pup rescued from farm that failed him and given the loving furever home he deserves in Massachusetts

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    "That's where I met Griffin, 85lbs of playful, lovable, goofy majesty."
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    There was a farmer in Tennessee with a giant farm that had many fields of crops, and even more pastures of livestock. One year, he bought a few Great Pyrenees pups from a litter produced by another farmer's
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    long line of bred livestock guardian dogs. The smallest of the litter grew to be a boy of about 85 lbs. while his brothers were 100, or 120. Like his brothers, he was tolerant and kind to
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    the livestock and played peacefully with their young. Unlike his brothers, he was also tolerant and kind toward any person who came by the pasture, and stuck his head out of the fence for ear
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    scratches and any "people attention" he could get. His brothers knew they were there for security, and barked at and intimidated any man, woman, or wolf that wandered by (which was their job!).
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    At some point the farmer grew tired of feeding the unproductive little Pyr, and locked him, with two other unqualified security dogs, in an unused chicken coop, where
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    he evidently planned to forget they exist. After a few weeks of hot Tennessee summer had gone by, and the three dogs inexplicably survived baking, unfed in the small shack without any
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    known source of new water except for a moldy chicken trough that was now long dry, a good Samaritan (perhaps a nosy neighbor) convinced a local rescue to pick up the dogs and bring them somewhere
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    safe, as they surely had little time left. The rescue sent someone out, who found three weak, exhausted, starving pyrs laying on the floor in the stuffy shack. The boy and
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    his fellow rejected pups thumped his tail as much as their tired bodies could when they saw the door open, and when the rescuer helped him get to his shaky feet, he
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    immediately leaned the side of his bony pyr head against the rescuer's hip in a sign of affection, trust, and relief that still makes that rescuer tear up today.
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    3 months later, the pyr boy was healthy again, had gained back a good amount of weight, and had been living happily in foster homes in Tennessee, when his world was unraveled again. He was
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    ushered into an unfamiliar crate by a new set of people and put on a truck headed who knows where. For two days, he bumped around in that crate, enjoyed periodic
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    breaks where he could stretch his legs outside, and slept, confused about where he was. Finally, he was let out of the crate a last time and ushered into a jeep after a hasty po
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    The jeep was driven by another unknown person who happily patted is head and fed him a few treats while he luxuriated in stretching out on a full empty seat in a new car. Some hours
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    later, the jeep stopped at another yard. And the boy was leashed up and ushered out unto a nondescript driveway in central Massachusetts.
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    That's where I met Griffin, 85lbs of playful, loveable, goofy majesty. After 50 hours of being driven by people he didn't know and led to places he'd never seen, he trotted right up to me and
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    leaned his big, slobbery Pyr head against my hip. This time, with no exhaustion or malnutrition requiring that gesture, we knew that this introductory lean
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    was Griffin's way of telling any new person who was nice to him that he was willing to trust them, ready to be their friend, and wouldn't mind a thorough ear scratching if there happened to be time for it!
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    I was only taking him in as a foster, then, but after six months, three of which were spent with an adopter who would reject him for being too aggressive, he came back to me, and I
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    knew I wouldn't be able to let him go again. I've moved now to give him the big fenced yard he deserves, and we go on regular adventures hiking in the woods, visiting dog parks, and sampling the chewy and savory treats the Ocean State's finest pet stores have to
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    offer. He still loves everyone he meets and is a little small for his breed, but he's big and mean enough to keep my sofa in place, and that's all the job I require of him. I'm a little biased in my opinion of what the greatest dog story
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    ever is, because he's my boy. But I think his life constitutes an adventure, and I continue to wonder what parts of the story I don't know...like what led to our vet finding 34 shotgun pellets in
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    : him the first time we d him. I'll always be glad I tried fostering rescue dogs, because I never would have found the perfect one otherwise. And I'll always be thankful to the good
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    neighbors and people at Big Fluffy. Dog Rescue who trespassed on someone's farm and saved his life. Without them, the greatest dog in the world might have ended up as a forgotten skeleton in an old chicken coop in Tennessee.

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