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My first rescue, Viola, a nine-pound toy poodle, came housetrained, loving and proud. One day while lying on my couch recovering from a marathon, I heard a knock at the door. There was Fran, dog rescuer extraordinaire, standing there with a grossly overweight, dirty, ungroomed Bichon Frise.

She had just been carried into the local county shelter by the police, who had arrested the owner. She was pitiful. There was no reaction at all to warm stimuli; just a limp, very unhappy dog who was 50% overweight. She ultimately went from 23 pounds to 15 with a good diet, and the vet's thought she was about 18 months old. Weight, it turned out, was the least of Daisy's problems and the easiest to fix.

She was afraid to urinate and defecate both inside and outside, afraid of people, afraid of the car and had likely never been walked. Her patterns indicated she had probably been beaten.

She was really lucky that she had the sweetest, most beautiful eyes in the world because it took three years until I could finally say to myself, "Yes, she is a happy dog." There were so many times that I was ready to give up, and yet I never could. It was a true exercise to grab her and hug her when I was so angry I wanted to scream.

Eventually, she came around to the hugs, soft touches and a structured lifestyle. Now she wags her tail and goes up to strangers when we walk; she loves to meet other dogs and she never growls. The biggest thrill? It seems small, but it is to call her name in the yard and watch her turn and run to me.

Story submitted by Lea Gallardo from Fernandina Beach, Florida.

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!