National Black Dog Day

National Black Dog Day

October 1st

Black animals altogether, are the least adoptable pets in shelters because of their color. All too often, black dogs are overlooked because of many stigmas such as; the color black is evil (the same stigma that cats have), black dogs do not show up as well in photographs as muti-colored or light colored dogs and black dogs look scary and intimidating because you cannot see their facial expressions as easily, etc. They are easily overlooked when people are searching for a new dog and the first to be euthanized in overcrowded conditions.

This special day was founded by Pet & Family Lifestyle Expert, Author, Animal Behaviorist and Rescue Advocate,

Colleen Paige, who is also the founder of National Dog Day, Cat Day, Puppy Day, Mutt Day,

Pet Day, Wildlife Day, Horse Protection Day and many more philanthropic holidays to increase the greater good for animals. National Black Dog Day is devoted to creating public awareness about these beautiful, shiny fur babies that offer just as much unconditional love as any other dog and deserve just as much love back. Black dogs also show off colorful accessories much better than any lightly colored dog! Try buying your black dog a neon green or hot pink collar!

Please adopt a black dog and show the world how much light they have inside and out!

My Thanksgiving Miracle
by Colleen Paige..

It was a week before Thanksgiving and an emaciated and sopping wet, black dog was found running down the middle of a dark highway at 3am in a rain storm. Two young girls coming home from a party pulled over to attempt rescue. The dog immediately jumped into the front seat, desperate to escape the cold and wet. The passenger wrapped her jacket around the poor dog to try and keep her warm and she immediately fell asleep in the girl's lap from sheer exhaustion. They kept her overnight and dropped her off at the shelter the next day.

Only hours after this poor dog had been dropped off at the shelter, I arrived looking for a best friend. As I walked in, she was the only dog in the shelter that wasn't jumping up on their kennel door or barking or begging me to bring her home. Of course I wanted them all - but there she was, emaciated, dehydrated, bruised and battered, just staring up at me with her big brown eyes that I could see the light starting to fade from. She was literally a skeleton covered in fur. There was no way I was walking away from this dog. Immediately her eyes took a hold of my soul and begged me to save her. I had no idea how severe her injuries were and no idea what kind of personality she had. I didn't care. I knew that it as fate. She was "the one".

At just 28 pounds of her normal 60 pounds, her ribs protruded through her chest and it appeared as if someone had been extinguishing their cigarettes out on her for quite some time. She was covered in fleas and wounds and scabs and huge swollen areas where she had been beaten. The shelter said that their policy was to wait 5 days to see if someone claimed her. Right then, I lost my mind. "You're joking right?? What do you mean you have to wait for someone to claim her? Whoever that person is has horribly mistreated her! How could you release her back to them?" I asked. The animal control officer said that since he didn't know the whole story, he would give someone a chance to explain. "A chance to explain what?? No way!

There is NO WAY I am going to watch you release her back to some monster!" I shouted. I'm not leaving here until you leave and lock those doors behind you and that's the way it’s going to be until five days pass."

I knew he was concerned that if someone tried to claim her, I would go ballistic, so because of that, I believe he was more willing to bend the rules for me a bit. He also agreed because, in his words, "no one wants a black dog anyway" and that if

no one claimed and her and I didn't adopt her, she would be euthanized right away. I was shocked. It was then, that I learned about this awful stigma.

So I camped out in front of her kennel every single day and by the grace of God, no one came to claim her. At the end of the 5th day, she was mine. I became so emotional when I got her in the car. I collapsed into the steering wheel and sobbed like a baby for ten minutes when the stress of the situation was relieved. It had been five days of hell...hell for her and hell for me worrying that I might lose her or end up in jail trying to prevent someone from taking her back to hell. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a great big kiss and it was in that moment I realized she would be ok ...no matter what we had to

face to get over over her trauma, it would be worth it...especially when I saw just the tip of her tail wagging.

The first day I put a bowl of food down for her, she whimpered and ran into the corner of the kitchen, peeing all over herself and shaking uncontrollably. As I tried to approach her to calm and reassure her, she shrieked as if I was beating her and hid her face to the wall. I knew then, that we had a long way to go. To make a long story short, I had to start out by putting food on the floor and literally leave the house for her to feel safe enough to eat. This made it clear that someone had beaten her horribly for perhaps trying to eat some food she found. It took two months to get her start eating from a bowl when no one was around and a whole year before she felt ok having anyone around her when she ate.

The physical wounds healed pretty quickly but the emotional trauma took a bit longer to relent. Sailor turned out to be a well adjusted, total goofball, who LIVED for being loved on by people especially children and when visiting retirement homes.

She adored playing fetch, romping on the beach....romping in any body of water really. One of the first places I took her was to the beach. It was then that her sheer obsession for swimming was evident. She would live on the sea if she could....and that's where she got her name. It seemed to fit her a lot better than what they have given her as a name at the shelter.

Sadly, on October 7th, 2014 at 14 years old, Sailor passed away from inoperable liver cancer. She brought joy to so many and is a true testament to the healing power of love. She was my best friend...my child....my soul dog. I’ll never be as whole or as happy without looking into her her sweet face and shining eyes every day but her legacy and the love she left behind will keep me moving forward to help highlight the plight of black dogs everywhere and encourage others to do the same. Please adopt a black dog on October 1st and help to keep Sailor's legacy alive.