Rottweilers have been a part of our lives for years. My husband Mo and I love everything about them. The black and mahogany of their fur complement each other beautifully. They're just the right size — not too big, not too small. They're sturdy, and they don't get lost in tall grass on walks. When they wag their tails, things stay put on low tables. A swipe or two with a brush, and grooming's done for the day. They're aloof around people they don't know, but loving to their families. They like to be where you are, doing what you're doing, making themselves part of your life.

The four Rottweilers with whom we've had the good fortune to share our lives, have been wonderful, special friends. Our first, Otto, was acquired from a backyard breeder. He wasn't the finest physical specimen — missing four teeth and cow-hocked. He was atypical in temperament — shy and diffident, but he was a fine canine friend. Otto helped me learn about obedience training.

Tallinn was acquired from a well-known breeder. She was gorgeous, a beautiful representative of the breed. She was not a dog for the faint of heart — her breathtaking self-confidence saw to that. Tallinn was beginning to accept our authority and was showing signs of becoming a friend, if a challenging one, when she died suddenly one February morning. The autopsy suggested an aneurysm. She was 21 months old.

At the moment, we have two female Rotties in our house. Riga is seven years old. She's so well-trained, we speak to her in sentences. She's earned the nickname "PussCat" for her loving nature ... to us. Tula, our other Rottie, was born in October of 1997, or so our vet believes, based on the examination of her teeth he did two days after she joined our household via Rottie Rescue.

Here's Tula's story: Mo and I had talked about getting another Rottweiler for about two years, up until 1997. We had moved to a wonderful place — acres of open fields, a pond, and woods laced with riding trails cut by the previous owners. About the time we started thinking about another Rottweiler, my sister Nancy acquired a "dumpster baby" — a young Dalmatian male who had been abandoned. Over the course of several months, we watched her relationship develop with the Dal she named Flag. Its beginning can only be described as rocky. Flag chewed his way through everything, ranging from minor (newspapers and magazines) to significant (the arm of her couch). He barked ... a lot. He dug everywhere in her yard. He soiled in her house. He was a juvenile delinquent, stressed beyond good manners from being abandoned. As he chewed, barked, and acted impossible over the weeks and months, a transformation occurred: Flag began to settle down, as he and Nancy both became convinced they were a family. Today, he's a very nice member of her family.

Nancy's experience caused us to reassess. Why were we thinking that our new family member had to come from a breeder? All the others had been breeder-acquired, but so what? After all, our interest revolves around our dogs as friends and buddies. They join us on walks and runs, they catch balls we throw. We aren't interested in breed showing and would never consider breeding. That's when we considered Rottweiler Rescue.

I searched the Web for Rottweiler rescue groups and made some telephone calls. In March, about a month after talking to the Rescue staff, Mo, Riga, and I were on our way to look at a four-month-old female puppy. Her owner contacted Rottie Rescue because the puppy she had should never have been acquired in the first place.

The pup's situation was this: Two sisters, their combined four children, and the boyfriend of one sister were sharing a house. One sister had recently become very ill. The other was working two jobs. The boyfriend thought a puppy would make a nice Christmas present for the kids — who ranged in age from eight years old to 14 months. About a month after the boyfriend put puppy under the Christmas tree, his girlfriend kicked him out. Then the landlord sold the building, and everyone had to move. The sisters decided it would be best for everyone if the puppy found a new home. She called the Humane Society and they told her about Rottweiler Rescue.

I know there are terrible rescue situations where dogs are taken from sickening situations. This certainly wasn't what we found when we got to the puppy's house.

The good care the sisters had given the puppy was evident. The puppy's gaze was bright and clear, direct and friendly. Her coat was shiny. She was initially shy, but crouching down, we quickly cajoled her over to us. Within minutes, she was an exuberant wiggle-worm of kisses. We thought she was a sweetheart. Riga took the high road: She completely ignored the puppy after a few sniffs.

The pup's owner liked and trusted us and we liked the puppy. Riga pretended she didn't exist. The puppy's owner gave her to us, and we gladly took her.

The two-and-a-half hour ride back home was the hardest part of the adoption — the puppy was carsick three times.

Our vet pronounced her heart, eyes, ears, and lungs as healthy. She had a full set of teeth, and no internal or external parasites. A "pop" in her right hip, though, was a possible indication of hip dysplasia. We made an appointment to have her spayed.

We named her Tula, after a river in Russia. We've had her just about a year now. Tula (aka Sparkle) is sweet-natured and very outgoing, with the curiosity of a monkey. She's crate-trained, has had basic obedience work, and tolerates being alternately bullied or ignored by Riga.

It's a good life for all of us.

— Dori (7/2/99)