Entrant's First Name
Kalinda

Animal Bio
About fifteen years ago I asked my Grandpa if he might consider getting another dog since he was very lonely after my Grandma and his dog, Tammy, passed away. My Grandpa would sit for hours each day watching the Space Network and not much else. He scowled slightly, in the loving way my Scottish Grandpa would. He knew it was a good idea, so he told me that I could good look. I went to several shelters until I came across an angry little dog that was found abandoned on the side of the road in Burnaby, BC. He was mangy, not overly friendly, unknown breeding, with a strong inclination to eat any kind of bug. His temper reminded me of my Grandpa, I thought they were perfect for each other.
Unfortunately, I had a big problem.
When I first met Max they told me he had to undergo some kind of personality testing, he failed the first round. Max would only try to attack anything bigger than him, the shelter described him as a ‘big dog trapped in a little dog’s body’. Undeterred, I went back a second time only to learn that Max did not do well with the next round of testing. From all accounts, it appeared as though Max might not be released as a family pet. I went back several more times because I knew this little monster was exactly what my Grandpa needed.
Fortunately, I am just as stubborn as my Grandpa because the fifth (or sixth? or tenth?) time I went back, the stars had alined. Max must have done something right because they finally allowed him to come home with me. My Grandpa had been through a lot in his life, he had served in the second World War, suffered through extreme poverty as a child, survived a massive amount of heavy chains being accidentally dropped on him at work in a pulp mill and lived to tell about a severe electric shock. Now, he had to survive the wee demon I was about to unleash into his life.
Max had been good the few times I visited him in the shelter, I could never understand why he was failing the personality testing. My Grandpa was not as lucky. The battle over who was going to emerge the alpha male in my Grandpa’s once quiet home began to rage shortly after Max realized he was meant to stay there.
Max would bite, nip and snarl at my Grandpa for no reason. It became clear to my Grandpa that Max had survived a war of his own. Grandpa never hit Max, he knew it would have no effect. Instead, he showed Max love and kindness and Max was not entirely sure what to do with it. Grandpa would don oven mitts and let make rip them to shreds. Max would viciously attack the mitts, trying desperately to show Grandpa who was boss. Grandpa did not return the violence, after Max tired himself out from the oven mitts, Grandpa would put him in a cage until he stopped snarling. It took a couple of months and three pairs of well made oven mitts, but one day, Max sniffed and licked the oven mitt. My Grandpa and Max held each other’s gaze as Grandpa slowly and cautiously removed one mitt, then the other. Max bowed his head as my Grandpa slowly stroked his little head. Max curled onto his lap, rolled over and let my Grandpa rub his belly for the next few years. They would sit there for hours watching the Space Network, together.
Max and Grandpa were inseparable. If Grandpa went into the bathroom and forgot to take Max with him, Max would frantically look all over the house for Grandpa. When Grandpa would emerge a couple of minutes later, the relief Max felt was evident in his tail wagging.
Then, Grandpa had a stroke, after five weeks in the hospital he decided it was time to go join Grandma and Tammy. Max took to my dad as his new master, he was no longer the angry little dog I had rescued so many years ago. Grandpa brought Max back to the loving dog he truly was. He lost his temper, but he never lost his habit of eating bugs.