We survived five!

First, I have to thank everyone who linked up for Truth be told, I'm lion yesterday! Jena, Lauren, Sarah and I had such a blast hosting it, and your posts were wonderful! 

{OK fine, I'm still working on reading them all, but I promise I will read every one!}

And while y'all are great and all, there's something faaarrrrr more important than a blog link-up going on today... 

HollybugBugginsNubbinsBuggabooBabushkaOllayBuggy is turning 5!!!

I'm the birfday girl!

And yeah, this is about to be a crazy dog lady post dedicated to my dog on her birthday. Getovait or getouttahere.

Since I just started this blog five months ago, all y'all have ever known is "grown-up" Holly and how wacky yet adorable she is. She makes appearances on here pretty often {read: 'bout daily}, because she's as much my child as anything could ever be. But her story isn't as simple and happy as 

We got a cute puppy, she did cute stuff, grew up to be a cute dog, and everything is just peachy-keen on the daily.

I only wish.

Baby Holly was much like "that puppy in the window" when we got her. My first summer home from college, my parents and I stopped by Petco for some dog stuff, and one of the local Hilton Head pet rescues was there with their adoptable puppies and kittens. Cuteness overload, of course. I held a few pups, one of which was Holly ~ then named Ginger {she and her siblings all had Gilligan's Island names...}. Dad gave Mom a few "So, how 'bout it?" looks. I literally begged Mom like a five year old. And eventually, because Mom is the best ever, we were walking out of Petco with an 11-week-old, 11-lb. puppy and all of the supplies to help her survive.

The smallest her little nub tail has ever been. And the jumbo paws. Ohhh, the paws.

Little did we know, surviving was going to be much more our task than Holly's. We adopted Holly under the condition that she was officially my dog ~ I was to take care of her, train her, give her lots of lovin', and when I moved off campus the next year, she'd move in with me and become my full responsibility. But, that night we brought her home, I had to go to work at my summer hostess job. The whole time I was there, all I could think about was my puppy waiting at home. Her floppy ears, the oversized paws, the sweet puppy breath. Ya know, the fun parts of puppydom.

But when I got home all I remember is being greeted by my mom with a "something's wrong with this dog" warning.
Holly had growled at my parents.
Growled, like a freaking monster.
We'd never owned a dog before that had growled at any of us, and we already knew something was off. To make a long story short, for the rest of that summer, there were endless dog training sessions, and ten-too-many discussions about sending Holly back to the shelter, because she was "just messed up." For the record, I defended her every. single. time. I don't believe any dog is unfixable and I was gonna do everything I could to keep my dog.

6 months old. That belly, my god.

Let's just say I got criticized for that mentality for a long time. In Holly's five years, we've worked with four different dog trainers in three different cities. Two of these trainers did their best to cure Holly's aggression and behavioral problems, but suggested that maybe we should consider having her put down. I'll say that again:
These professional dog trainers told us that our dog was so unfixable that perhaps she was better off dead.

Cue tears.

She obviously gets her style from her mama.

To sum up Holly's "issues"... We're really not sure what the hell is wrong with her. From the beginning, she's been fearful of almost everything in the world. In her mind, the solution to fear is aggression and, therefore, she becomes defensive and growls if she feels threatened. Trainers have suggested this could be from a lack of socialization as a puppy pre-adoption. {We know little about her history besides that a pregnant mama dog showed up at some lady's door, the lady kept the dog until the puppies were 8 weeks old, and then dropped the four of them off at a shelter.} It could be that she wasn't breastfed long enough by her mom ~ this is the first arena in which most dogs learn appropriate behavior. If one pup hogs or bullies the other siblings, mom correct them. She could've been abused or neglected, though it's unlikely she'd remember such a thing at such a young age.
Regardless of where her behaviors stem from, Holly is a lot of things. She's...

Scared of: men, appliances, school buses, lamps, fans, trucks, kids, other dogs, strangers in our house or public.
Possessive of: me, the bed, the floor in front of the couch, her toys.

She trusts: Me, Glenn, my parents, and my brother. Anyone else sends her into a frenzy of growls and barks and bites.

She loves: her mommy and daddy, her squeaky chicken, going for walks, cats.

She follows: Me. And me only. To Holly, I'm a God-equivalent. No matter where I go in the house, she has to be right at my heels. When Glenn takes her for a walk in the morning, the second her unleashes her she tears through the house frantically searching for me. {Sometimes I hide, because I'm awful.} And the second she finally finds me, her ears relax and her nub-tail goes crazy. This happens every. single. day.  And every single day, it makes me smile.

She chews: NOTHING. This may or may not be the greatest my luck's ever been. Despite her obvious shortcomings, Holly's never chewed up something she wasn't supposed to. Stuffed toys are another story... see below.

She knows: Sit, stay, down, hugs, love-love, shake, high-five, wave, up, night-night, treat, go for a walk. She's one of the most command-obedient dogs I've ever seen. Except for that whole "we don't aim to kill people" thing...

Just toys. We only kill stuffed toys.

We've been through so much with Holly that it makes my heart both hurt and smile. This was a dog that once trusted no one, and now she'll let me put my hand in her food bowl while she eats. She's my ultimate protector, and with her around, I've never feared that I'm not safe. I know this dog loves and trust me with every little fiber in her 50-lb. being and knows that I'm the person who's here to love her in return.
To this day, every time my dad sees me with Holly, he shakes his head and says, "I just can't believe that's the same dog. It's amazing."

While it's true that Holly still has issues every damn day, and we find ourselves putting her in timeout for being growly a lot, that this dog loves and trust anyone is a true miracle. That she loves and trust Glenn and me ~ well that's just the happiest thing in the world.

If you made it to the end of this post, bless your heart. If you made it to the end of this post and don't think I'm totally crazy, bless your freaking heart I love you so much.

Happy Birthday, Hollybug! We love you!