Ringo's Story

For those of you that don’t know, Ringo is my six-year-old pit mix. He’s my soul dog — the dude that held me together and held me accountable after Cleo’s accident.

(Her story will come with time.)

He’s my everywhere dog.The one everyone points at and says,

“I want my dog to be like Ringo.”

He’s not perfect, but don’t tell him that. Or me...

I met Ringo when I was working at the animal shelter in my town. He was “apparently” found roaming the woods of Ringwood — so yes, his name comes from that, not The Beatles.

Not as cool anymore, I know.

I was going through a volunteer program that taught us how to train the shelter dogs to make them more adoptable. And boy…did he need to learn a few things. Running feral in the woods gives you street smarts, not brain smarts. But street smarts usually come with charm, and the dude won over pretty much everyone who worked there. He was definitely the favorite.

I swear he could make his eyes sparkle on cue.

Little manipulative prince.

But the second you opened that kennel door?

The prince turned into a monster.

I remember doing a meet-and-greet with a family who came to see him. We brought him to the yard so he could run around and show off his fetch skills…and he got so over-aroused that he ran up behind the mom and tried to play tug with the fur on her winter coat.

Safe to say it was a no for them.

Talk about him being “hard to adopt” started to make me nervous about his future.

So naturally…I took him home to foster and train him. I was in the middle of my Animal Behavior College course, so I figured it was perfect timing.

Well…he and Cleo started getting along really well, and I was truly falling in love with him. The moment the shelter told me I had to bring him back so they could get more eyes on him, I got that gut feeling — the one that said I couldn’t let him go.

I adopted him that week.

Manipulation complete.

Ringo is the reason for a lot of joy in my life…but he’s also the reason for many scars. The amount of rope burn I’ve had because of him is concerning.

Another concerning issue? Zero brain cells.

The dude once jumped out of my moving car just to go say hi to a dog walking down the street. No malicious intent. Just a quick sniff, then he moved on.

Don’t judge — we all went through our naïve phase.

And honestly, I remember thinking:

What the hell did I get myself into?

But once Cleo passed…I swear a switch flipped in him. Call me crazy, but he became insanely attentive to me — almost like he knew I needed a little extra TLC. And maybe he did too. I can’t speak on what loss does to a dog, but he was there when she passed. Maybe he felt it just as deeply as I did.

From that point on, our training and relationship took off.

Now? He’s my everywhere dog. Coffee shops. Vacations. Family parties. Friends’ houses.

He has the capability to go anywhere with me.

And he has this way of looking you in the eyes that genuinely makes your soul smile.

Dogs like Ringo teach us more than we ever teach them.

If you’re raising a dog who’s pushing all your buttons, maybe their story isn’t finished yet.