pets

We adopted Petey about nine months ago, and at the time, we weren’t sure if he’d ever be stable enough to travel with us. The shelter warned us that because of his fear, he might never even manage a walk in the park—his anxiety around dogs and kids was that severe.

But little by little, he surprised us. First, he stopped barking at every sound in the neighborhood. Then he quit chewing our blankets and pillows. Eventually, he began to enjoy walks and car rides. Sure, he still gets spooked by the occasional dog, but now he can be redirected—something that felt impossible in those first three months.

Petey has proven not only the shelter wrong, but also shown us just how smart and loving he really is. Underneath his trauma, there’s a sweet, capable dog. We know that if we keep nudging him forward, he’ll grow into the great dog we believe he can be.

So, with that in mind, we decided it was time for Petey’s first trip: Pender Island, one of the Gulf Islands off Vancouver Island. His first ferry ride. His first hotel stay. His first night away from home.

Would he rise to the challenge—or would the stress unravel everything?

We packed early, making sure to bring along his donut bed and blanket for comfort. Because my wife and I get anxious about travel too, we gave ourselves a big buffer. While we waited, we walked Petey around Tsawwassen Mills Mall. Everything was closed, but it helped burn off his energy.

We lucked out and squeezed onto an earlier ferry, saving ourselves two hours. The catch: we were the last car on, parked at an incline that made the ride a bit shaky. Petey struggled at first—barking whenever I left the car, jittery on walks near other dogs. The dog deck was a non-starter. So we stayed with him in the back seat until he finally settled down for a nap.

At last, the ferry docked at Otter Bay on Pender Island. Our first stop was Hope Bay, where we barely stepped out before an off-leash dog came trotting over. Friendly or not, it would’ve set Petey off, so we ducked down to the water’s edge and enjoyed the view from a safe distance.

Next, we checked out the island’s main junction—a bakery, liquor store, and a few restaurants. It seemed to be the hub of Pender, and just about everyone had a dog. Normally that would’ve been great, but with Petey, it made things tricky. We barely left the car.

We grabbed food to go. And drove until we found some peace at Magic Lake. There, on a quiet bench with no dogs in sight, we ate our sandwiches and drank our coffee while Petey anxiously sniffed around the tall grass.

From there, we drove to Mortimer Spit, a narrow strip of land between the two parts of Pender. The roads were rough, but the unique views were worth it—it ended up being my favorite spot. Petey seemed to enjoy it too.

His favorite, however, was the Enchanted Forest Park. Quiet, shaded trails, no other dogs—a perfect first real hike for him. He loved it, though by then he was exhausted; apart from a short ferry nap, he’d been going non-stop.

We tried checking into our hotel early, but our room wasn’t ready. So we drove to Gowlland Point, a rocky beach at the southeastern tip. The scenery was stunning, but it was hard to enjoy with Petey on high alert. Dogs, people, and one overly confident old man who couldn’t believe any dog wouldn’t like him—none of it helped.

Finally, we made it to our hotel, Poet’s Cove Resort, right on the water. Getting Petey inside was rough—an off-leash dog greeted us at the door, setting him off. If it wasn’t for that dog, I think Petey could have done much better. I have thoughts on off-leash dogs, for sure, especially when their owners aren’t able to call them back. Alas, we can’t control other people.

Anyways, once in the room, he relaxed. He bounced around the bed, explored the new space, and slowly grew more comfortable when I had to step out. We give him a C plus. A pass, but also a lot of room for improvement.

The resort itself was wonderful: a balcony with ocean views, a restaurant kind enough to pack meals to go, and even a deep bathtub that made up for skipping the crowded pool and hot tub. We ended the evening quietly in the room. Petey curled up on his donut bed and later snuggled with us like he always does.

The trip wasn’t easy. Without him, it would’ve been simpler, maybe even more relaxing—but it wouldn’t have been the same. He wasn’t perfect; his triggers are still there. But compared to the scared dog we brought home last December, he was unrecognizable.

And the biggest surprise came after. Back home, he was calmer. During the workday, instead of chewing things for attention, he started napping peacefully by our side. The trip gave him a boost of confidence—and for that alone, it was worth it.

As for Pender Island? It’s small, hilly, and full of bees. Beautiful, yes, and we saw most of it in one trip. I’m not sure we’ll rush back, but it will always be special: the first place Petey traveled, something we never thought possible.

I can’t wait for more trips with him. He’s a smart, stubborn little guy—and while he’s still a bit crazy, I wouldn’t bet against him becoming the good boy we always knew he could be.

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It’s been over three months since we adopted Petey from the shelter. When we first brought him home, we had an idea of what he’d been through and knew he had a lot of healing to do. But day to day, the progress was hard to see.

Now, looking back, it’s incredible to see how far he’s come in such a short time. It gives us so much hope that he can grow into his full potential—confident, obedient, and chill.

Of course, it’s still a work in progress, and there’s a long way to go. But at the three-month mark, there’s already so much to celebrate.

They say three months is a big milestone for a shelter dog—it’s when they start feeling truly comfortable in their new home, and their real personality starts to shine through.

And while we’ve seen some major wins in his behavior, the biggest surprise? His physical transformation.

Physical Changes:

When we first brought Petey home, he was emaciated—you could literally see the stress and anxiety on his face. He was always on high alert like some paranoid drug addict. On top of that, he had these concerning rashes on his elbows.

Petey doesn’t have a lot of hair, so his skin is extra vulnerable, but the rashes didn’t seem like they were from rubbing against anything. The vet recommended an elimination diet and prescribed a medical shampoo for his baths. We also got him some clothes—not just to protect him from the elements, but to stop him from licking himself raw.

Now, at the three-month mark, Petey has never looked better. He’s filled out, his face looks noticeably less stressed, and even the bags under his eyes have lightened—though he still has those signature Steve Buscemi eyes. His hair has thickened up a bit (even in the places we thought he couldn’t grow hair), and most importantly, the rashes on his elbows are completely gone.

We’re not 100% sure what did the trick—whether it was allergies, bacteria, or just the stress—but I’m leaning toward a bacterial infection. So, as much as he hates bath time, those medicated washes probably made the biggest difference.

Barking at Noises

Over the past three months, Petey has made huge progress when it comes to dealing with noises—whether it’s sounds from the alley, the hallway, or even the TV.

When we first brought him home, things like garbage trucks beeping or our neighbors coming and going would send him into a meltdown. In those early weeks, he’d bark like crazy and take anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes to calm down—which was frustrating.

But now? He still hears the sounds, but instead of instantly reacting, he actually pauses and thinks about it. And if he does decide to bark, we can stop him with just our voices and redirect him to something else.

That’s a huge win. It gives us hope that, soon enough, these noises won’t even phase him—he’ll be completely used to it.

Biting Blankets and Cushions

Petey loves biting soft things. But he also loves relaxing on soft things. And, well, that creates a bit of a dilemma.

In the first two months, he was fixated on chewing blankets and cushions. We got him a bed, but he just kept biting it—so we had to take it away. It was one of the biggest signs that he couldn’t be trusted alone.

To curb the destruction, we tried a chew-prevention spray—basically just bitter flavoring. Did it work? Yes, for a bit, but it wasn’t a permanent solution.

Fast forward to today, and while Petey still has the occasional urge to chew, the difference is that now, when we tell him to stop, he actually listens. That’s a huge milestone. Before, I’d have to physically block him, which would just make him double down—his “shelter brain” would kick in, and sometimes, in the chaos, he’d bark, jump, and snap at me.

Now, the only time he really goes for our stuff is when he’s chewing one of his toys and—by pure coincidence—a cushion or a blanket corner ends up in his mouth. At that point, the temptation is just too strong. But even then, we can call him off with just our voices.

Most recently, we’ve introduced the bed back into the equation and while he still has the urge to bite it, there are also occasions where he is able to control himself enough so that he is able to lie down and even take a nap in it.

That’s huge progress.

Being Left Alone

Probably the biggest struggle with Petey right now is leaving him alone.

He has a lot of trauma from being locked in a crate, and if we put him in one, it takes just a few seconds before he starts freaking out. We can extend it to a few minutes with a Kong. But even just closing him in a room is a challenge. We set up a camera to see what he does when the door is shut, and… yeah, he just jumps at the door over and over until he’s exhausted.

This is one area where, honestly, we haven’t made a ton of progress. We worry about him getting himself into trouble—or worse, annoying the neighbors with his constant yapping.

So, we’re taking it slow. Little by little.

We’ll leave him in the living room while we work in our offices—he’ll nap on the couch while we do. He’s fine when we step away for a bathroom break. And occasionally, we’ll step outside to throw out the garbage while he stays in the living room.

It’s going to take patience—on both sides. But lately, thanks to some afternoon naps together, Petey has started to chill out a bit. There have even been times when he takes himself to the bedroom to rest on his own. We have faith that as he develops more confidence, he’ll start seeking more opportunities to be independent.

While there is no hard date. We do have a timeline—there’s going to come a day when we have to leave him alone. So, we’re really hoping the next three months bring more progress than the first three. Fingers crossed.

Walks

When we first got Petey, walks were a whole thing.

The smallest things would spook him—someone walking down the street, a shadow from a tree, kids playing, a random bang from the construction site down the block. But nothing freaked him out more than other dogs.

In the past three months, he’s gotten way better with people walking by and random noises. And for the most part, he can handle dogs in the distance. What he can’t handle? A dog—or even a person—coming too close to our home. If another dog walks by our gate, he gets territorial, barking and charging like a little maniac.

One time, he actually pulled out of his leash on me—and I swear, that was the most terrified I have ever been in my entire life. Luckily, we both survived that ordeal. And honestly? We both grew from it.

The key on walks has been constant treats. The more he’s enjoying himself, the less likely he is to freak out. But we’ve still got work to do—especially when I’m walking him with my wife, and one of us has to duck into a store. That situation? Still a struggle.

The best part, though? I’ve started taking him on some runs. It’s not the most efficient workout for me yet, but I know it’s something we can keep practicing and get better at over time.

The Most Cuddly Boy

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Petey in the past three months, it’s that he is one of the cuddliest dogs I’ve ever met—and honestly, we couldn’t be happier about it. He’s only gotten more cuddly over time, and it’s clear this isn’t just a phase. This is who he is.

And to think—at the shelter, there were discussions to euthanize this sweet guy. It’s almost unbelievable when I look at him now.

Petey is just this happy, fun-loving guy. If it weren’t for the rough start he had in life, he’d be an all-star dog. He’s super smart, pure-hearted, and the longer we have him, the more he reminds us of our first dog, Michael.

Like Michael, Petey is part Boston Terrier, and we’re starting to see those traits shine through. It feels like Michael’s spirit is guiding Petey in some way—and that thought just fills us with so much joy.

When I look at Petey in profile, I see Michael. It’s crazy how this dog found us, just like we found him. It couldn’t have worked out more perfectly for all three of us.

These past three months have been challenging, frustrating, and exhausting at times—but watching him heal, seeing his progress, and knowing how far he’s come? That makes it all worth it. We couldn’t be more proud.

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