Rottweiler Breeder, Rottweiler Puppies, Rottweiler Stud dog, Rotti puppies, Mission, British Columbia, Canada, Rotties, Rotts, 

trjn - "...Of courageous determination or energy.  One who shows the pluck, endurance,

     determined energy, or the like, attributed to the defenders of Troy."




Please Note:  The dogs listed were not being fostered by ourselves.  Most were in local Animal Shelters, SPCAs and Rescues.  They were just listed on this page in hopes of finding a home.


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Sadly, not all dogs can be saved, or fine the appropriate homes soon enough.  These are a few of the unlucky ones.


Please think about saving a Rottweiler, and giving an abandoned dog a much loved home, so this sort of thing does not have to continue to happen.

"A Very Special Pair"  - posted April 16th, 2008, Updated October 23rd, 2008


Unfortunately, both were PTS, as an appropriate home could not be found.




"Solo"  - posted January 14th, 2004, updated March 11th, 2004

Unfortunately, Solo was PTS, as an appropriate home could not be found.

Solo is a neutered male, probably around 4 years old. Friendly when he gets to know you, but until then a bit wary - barks in his kennel. Very strong on a leash (needs obedience training) but will sit when requested. Mixed reaction to other dogs, normally he will ignore them but he is kept on his own. Doesn't seem to like very young children. His dog assessment states he is a bit territorial of his kennel and breed knowledge a must. He should never become a 'back-yard' dog. In the shelter environment, he does not get the exercise he needs, but the volunteers who walk him all find him very affectionate and friendly.

"Harvey"  - posted January 5th, 2004, Updated May 26, 2004

Unfortunately, Harvey was PTS.  He went through 2 new homes, and was returned by both, as he was too aggressive.

Big, handsome Harvey hasn't had much of a life the past two years. His previous owners never took him for a walk, so he gained a few extra pounds, which he'll need to shed. Having not gone for a walk in two years meant Harvey didn't have any exposure to the outside world during that time. As a result, he's very nervous around children and other dogs. We have taken him on group walks with four other dogs, and although he isn't the type to get friendly and playful with the others, at least not at this point, he has proven to be patient and relatively calm in their company. Despite this, Harvey will only be adopted out to a home without other animals. It would also be best that he not go to a home with small children. He will have to go to an experienced home, where he'll be able to properly re-socialize. Harvey seems to be a diamond in the rough. He already knows his basic commands, but he's going to need a little work with walking on a leash. Harvey is very eager to please if you have a treat in your hand. His little stub of a tail will start wagging, which gets his whole back end wiggling. He's got an almost full-body tail wag, which is quite humourous to see. Harvey LOVES to play fetch and soccer, and will joyfully charge after the ball as fast as he can run (he's very agile and athletic for a big guy), but will then insist that you chase him a bit, before he'll give it back.That's no problem though, as he needs to burn off his excess weight anyway, and he does give the ball back quite willingly, if you insist. You're going to have to expect to put your belly-rubbing hand to good use with Harvey too. He loves a rub while he's catching his breath between ball chase sessions. He's a big friendly boy, who will make a devoted companion for the right person.


"One-Eyed" Jack (posted June 15th)

Sadly, Jack did not find a home in time.  He was PTS.  


Young Male PB - Needs Home This Weekend! (Posted Jan. 23rd)

Unfortunately, he did not find a home in time.  He was PTS.


Amerack (posted Jan 23rd)

Sadly, Amerack did not find a home in time.  He was PTS.  






By Jim Willis 2001

  When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad,"
you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.

  My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

  Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your home comings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.

  I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

  As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

  There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

  Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

  I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

  You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.

  You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked.... "How could you?"

  They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared..... anyone who might save me.

  When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry.

  My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The "prisoner of love" had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

  She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

  Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

The End - Jim Wllis

  ** A note from the author:
  If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly owned pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.






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