Loving Leroy: My First Heart Dog

Leroy photo: Sara Scott

If you’ve been around the dog world long enough, you may have heard someone talk about their “heart dog.” Your heart dog is a special dog that comes around only once in your lifetime (twice if you’re lucky) with whom you have a special bond. It’s your canine soulmate, a dog who leaves a permanent mark on your heart. A dog who changes you and changes the way you live and love.

Leroy was my first Pit Bull. He was a lucky dog rescued from an unlucky situation in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. In Louisiana, he had been part of a program that gave prisoners the opportunity to care for unhoused dogs. While many dogs were scooped up by dog rescue groups after Katrina, a bunch of Pit Bulls had been left behind and seemingly forgotten. Leroy happened to be one of the lucky ones chosen to come to the Bay Area in California for a chance at a new life.

At that time, I worked as the trainer for BADRAP’s Pit Bull adoption program called Pit Bull Hall, which was housed in the Oakland SPCA. Leroy was one of the resident dogs in that program and I got to work with him daily on training, leash manners (he didn’t even know what a leash was back then), playing fetch, and anything else that would help him adjust to his new life. 

Sadly, Leroy sat in the shelter for a bit too long without any interested adopters  and he started to bark out of frustration when people entered the room and gazed at him through the bars. As you might imagine, this was not a good look for a prospective adoptee, particularly a Pit Bull. But he had effectively been behind bars for almost two years at this point so, to me, his behavior was understandable. 

Because Leroy clearly needed a break from the shelter, I took him into my home as a foster dog, where he ended up being my first foster failure. Yes, I adopted him. 

Leroy was an upbeat, energetic dog and sometimes a bit impulsive. He was also a goof. I remember him climbing on the kitchen table so he could leap out the window to greet people in the backyard. Another time he suddenly jumped up from sunbathing and sprinted into the ocean waves because he saw a seal pop its head out of the water.

He loved learning and would pick up new tricks easily. We spent months going to classes to pass the Canine Good Citizen test, during which time I taught him to do a free balance handstand. We learned the entire obedience routine for Schutzhund I, a dog sport that tests tracking, obedience, and protection skills. He even took first place in the first nosework trial we entered and came home with a bunch of ribbons. He marched in the SF pride parade. He lived every day of his life to its fullest.

Leroy taught me myriad lessons in dog behavior. I was a novice trainer when I first brought him home and I learned so much from him about reactivity, frustration, impulsive behavior, gut issues, stress, dog to dog introductions, leash manners, training philosophies, resource guarding, predatory behavior, motivation, the meaning of management, and more. You name it, Leroy taught me about it. 

In fact, I learned how to help other dogs live their best lives by providing Leroy with the care he needed. It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it was actually quite a challenge. But we persevered and became a stronger team because of it.

As Leroy got older, his needs changed, but my love for him only grew. He was the little spoon every night when we went to bed. I made my vacation plans around him. Eventually, I got his face tattooed on my entire forearm. We’d go on long walks in the middle of a weekday and I’d take a hundred pictures of him rolling in the grass. We’d take drives out to Point Reyes and find the most secluded beach and sit and watch the waves together for hours. Every piece of art I made was of  his face in one fashion or another. He had an entire wardrobe full of pajamas, hoodies, and costumes as a testament to how much he was loved.

We had a routine of going to get a morning coffee during which Leroy would get a pup cup full of whipped cream (he really loved drive-throughs). One day on the way home, we noticed cars swerving up ahead on the road and to my horror, I saw a small dog was running for his life, dashing between the cars. I pulled my car over and jumped out, thinking there was no way I would ever catch this dog. I yelled out “Pupppppppy” and to my surprise the dog flipped around and ran 300 yards until it reached me and was tap dancing under my feet: help me, help me, help me.

I scooped up the puppy, who at the time, was collarless and smelled like an ashtray. And then it hit me, what was I going to do now? Leroy was not a fan of small dogs, and especially not small intact male dogs. But when I looked over, Leroy was just calmly watching me from inside the vehicle. I thought okay…does he see what’s happening here? He did. 

Being a dog person, I had already had a crate set up in my car, so I placed the pup in the crate in the back. The two sniffed nose to nose through the bars and Leroy immediately accepted the new puppy. This was not a typical response from Leroy.

I drove home, did a quick introduction, and within minutes the two were hanging out together. Just a bit later they were snuggled up on the couch, as cozy as old friends. Because I was connected to the local shelter, I was able to do the pup’s “stray hold” in my house. I diligently looked for the owner but no one ever came forward and eventually I adopted this new puppy as well.

Leroy was not a cuddler of other dogs, or at least not until Chester showed up. He let this little creature right into his life, shared his food bowl with him, and played toy games with him. They would curl up together and share Leroy’s yummy pup cups when we went to get our morning coffee. 

As Leroy began to age and approach the last months of his life, little Chester served as his emotional support dog, always right there with him all the way until the end. After Leroy passed, Chester grieved and mourned his loss with me. But Chester soon stepped into the role of filling Leroy’s shoes as best his little body could, almost as if Leroy had been giving him lessons on what to do after he was gone. Listen kid, this job’s important.

Before Chester, I was definitely not a small dog person. Until then, I had only owned large rescue dogs and a Belgian Malinois. So when Chester’s DNA test results came back as a Cocker Spaniel/Chihuahua mix, I had a bit of an identity crisis to work through. (You know how to become a small dog person? Get a small dog.) 

Leroy’s heart and soul now live on in the body of a Chihuahua mix. Who would have guessed that? But if you’re lucky like me, your heart dog might just pass along their heart dog torch to the next one. Just like Leroy did.