Leo: My Four-legged Soulmate

Leo is full-heartedly my four-legged, full-chested, muscle-bound, sensitive, and expressive soulmate.

When we rescued Leo, I had been in practice treating traumatized children and adults, Leo was the clearest expression traumatized little boy who had suffered greatly and never had a chance to thrive. Although physically intimidating if you didn’t know him, internally he thought he was a dependent toddler that needed his mommy to be close to give him constant emotional support and love. I became his human mom.

Leo was a bull in a china shop. I watched him bump into a 200-pound coffee table and move it across the floor without missing a step. I was a perpetual goofball. Our first trainer saw Leo coming and started to laugh saying, “He is a cartoon character!” He loved to play ball but had no idea how to play with another dog. When I would get home from being gone, he would grunt, whine in excitement, and barrel into me with his slimy ball wanting me to throw it for him over and over until he finally plopped down frog-legged gnawing on his toy.

Leo was the epitome of a “trash dog.” When he rescued him, the doctor indicated that he had “rot gut” due to not having anything to eat, thus consuming anything that he could find. He was super sick and needed 3 months of nutritional rehabilitation and medication to cure the intestinal infection. I believe that his lack of food and scouring for morsels of sustenance created an incessant craving to eat. He would eat everything but citrus. He absolutely loved veggies. I would make a green smoothie in the morning with celery, cucumbers, green pear, almond milk, and spinach. He lapped it all up, wanting more. Leo was so incredibly smart and with the drive to eat, he learned how to open cupboards, doors, and fridges. When Leo was first introduced to being inside our home, we had large containers made for dog food with screw-on lids, stored inside the cupboard. He opened the closed cupboard, pulled out the container, unscrewed the top, and ate to the point he could eat no more. One would think that was the limit to his abilities, but Leo also opened doors with his mouth. If he wanted a snack, he would go through opening 2 doors, open the refrigerator, and eat it ALL! Sadly, one time he pulled this stunt, he hit the jackpot with an entire Costco order in the refrigerator and filled his tummy to the point that we had to induce vomiting.

To protect Leo, we began to crate him because he would eat anything -- Shoes, boots, couches, belts, furniture, and even attempted to eat a garage door. So, we created the Leo version of safely securing him in his crate- zip ties. No handle or latch system could keep him in. That is until he decided he was over it. He sat up, pushed his full body against the top of the crate, broke the top open, and pulled himself out of the top of the crate bodybuilder style.

Since the crate was now unreliable, and he knew the refrigerator was the treasure chest, we had to devise a tie system so it could not open with his mouth or body weight. We rigged the refrigerator and the entry points to the kitchen with locked doors to protect him and save our food!

When Leo came into our lives, he was not alone. He came with his bonded pair, Kaiya. He and Kaiya plus their puppy were found on the streets of Oakland. Somehow, they escaped the fighting breading ring they were in and made it out on the street. Leo had a 25-pound boat chain welded around his neck. He was massive and so unsure, scared. In our minds, Kaiya was his birth mother, and she was also the mother to their puppies. Kaiya was so good to Leo. He was dependent on her and survived because of her stealthy nature and love for him.

Early on, Leo gravitated to me. In a short time, we created a strong bond. He loved Ali and me. We both fed him, trained him, walked him, and loved him dearly. If we were in the house together, he had to be in proximity to touch. He slept under the covers right beside me. If we were not home, Leo was highly anxious. This anxiety limited his ability to be home alone for no more than three hours at a time, even with the help of calming meds and the company of Kaiya or Skylar.

The bond was not one way. The feeling I had with his presence was a full, all-encompassing, complete love. The feeling from head to toe, of being completely loved. The oxytocin surge and emotional bond that is unmatched by any other connection. His presence had its own unique feeling that gave me complete relaxation and soothing. He could take me through a full range of emotions, from worry about his health, laughter at his antics, and frustration with his destruction, to an incredible bliss with our connection.

Leo’s passing, along with Skylar’s, has been more painful than I ever imagined. When the grief overwhelmed me, I had to find something that honored their lives, and other rescues, and help me navigate my immense grief. This is how The Skylar Project was born. I would create pieces of art to make each a unique pair of earrings and string malas that are part of honoring them and helping pay it forward to other rescues. My hope is that the sublimation of my pain will help other rescues and their parents during their journey. I believe in the power of connecting like-minded people and organizations to make a village of support for Pitbull rescues and those that love them. I hope you join the team.