This much I know is true... animals are so much more than companions, they're mirrors to our souls, reflections of unconditional love, resilience, and an empathy that's profoundly pure.
Last night, we said goodbye to Faith, our beloved Rottweiler, our princess, our guardian, and our heart.
Her journey came to a peaceful close, cradled in love and surrounded by the family she protected and nurtured for seven beautiful years.
Faith’s story began in darkness. She came to us from a place of neglect and abandonment, left locked in an empty bedroom, her brother locked in a separate empty room, forgotten in a house whose human occupants had moved on. No food. No water. No kindness. Just silence and suffering. It was the kind of beginning that could have broken her spirit forever.
But Faith chose something else. She chose grace. She chose love.
From the moment she stepped into our home, Faith became a light... gentle, watchful, and fiercely devoted. She didn’t just walk—she pranced, a regal strut that made it impossible not to smile. Our youngest son Elijah was only five when she arrived, and she quickly adopted him as her own. She doted on all our children with the tenderness of a seasoned mother, always alert, always near. Watching over us all, she embodied everything the world so often misses about Rottweilers: not just their strength and loyalty, but their deep emotional intelligence, their nurturing instincts, their quiet sentience.
When Faith became a mother to her first litter of puppies, it was nothing short of extraordinary. As a first-time breeder, I was a nervous wreck. I had done all the research, prepared for everything that could go wrong... but Faith didn’t need a manual. She delivered like a pro, and then mothered with a patience and gentleness that humbled me. We kept one of her sons, Apollo, who is now five years old. Even as he grew, Faith never stopped being his mother. If he got into something he shouldn’t, she’d correct him before we could even open our mouths. It was both hilarious and heartwarming, her way of reminding us that the job of a good mother never ends.
Faith wasn't just a good dog. She was exceptional. A protector, a matriarch, a gentle soul wrapped in muscle and fur. And if you’ve ever truly known a Rottweiler, then you understand: these dogs feel. They understand. Behind those intelligent eyes is a depth of spirit that can take your breath away. It’s not just loyalty... it’s sentience. They see us, often more clearly than we see ourselves.
The bond between humans and animals like Faith isn’t simply emotional—it’s spiritual. Proverbs 12:10 reminds us, "The righteous care for the needs of their animals," while Psalm 36:6 assures us, "You, Lord, preserve both people and animals." These verses speak not just to responsibility, but to reverence. The Bible recognizes what many of us feel instinctively, that animals are not lesser beings, but sacred ones.
Science agrees. Research confirms that animals form complex emotional bonds, feel grief, express joy, and exhibit empathy. Their brains and hearts are wired for love. For those of us who have known pain at the hands of other people, the love of an animal can be redemptive. It's simple, sincere, and healing. Faith gave us that. Every single day.
She reminded us that not all strength looks like dominance. Sometimes, it prances. Sometimes, it curls up beside your child at night. Sometimes, it shows its teeth, not in aggression, but in defense of the ones it loves.
Today, we mourn... but we also celebrate. Faith’s legacy lives on in Apollo, in her grandchildren, and in every corner of our home. She changed the way people saw Rottweilers. She changed the way people saw love.
She wasn’t just a dog. She was our family, our comfort, our guardian. She was proof that love can rise from abandonment, that compassion can thrive even after cruelty, and that the bond between humans and animals is one of the holiest gifts we’re given.
Rest easy, sweet girl. You were everything your name promised.
You were Faith.
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