This is Douglas Allen Phillips, who needs your help to walk help. The following, and updates, are his story.

Doug was the only small dog at a rescue in Montana, a state that is dominated by big, tough-pup athletes who like snow and mountains and playing and people. He had been rescued from a place that had kept him in a crate he couldn’t stand or turn around in. He was found in this crate sitting in his own filth, covered in abscesses, with his legs broken. He had lived like this for the first three years of his life - abused, no contact with people or animals other than those that attacked him for sport, and never knowing love. “Atlas,” as he was named by his rescuers, had been adopted six times and returned six times, primarily due to the danger of his fear-based aggression. They were resigned to the fact that Doug was not adoptable, and they would have to live with the little monster.

Cut to me, looking to adopt a little dog to live with me in my small condo in the mountains. They didn’t tell me his history until after Atlas and I met. They said they had one small dog, but he was “special needs” and they were only going to try him in a single person residence, preferably someone who worked from home or could take him to work so that he wouldn’t be alone. He cried when he was alone for even a minute, you see, so his anxiety in the kennel was crippling him and torturing the other animals and people who worked there. It was quite a pitch... He was probably the only little dog in the entire state who was up for adoption, and I lived alone and worked from home, so all the boxes were checked. They put us in a room together. It was not love at first sight. He wasn’t much to look at and apparently, neither was I. He didn’t look at me once. I sat there for a few minutes and watched him walk around the room, nose to floor. He was boring and unmemorable, but I really wanted and needed a dog in my life and he needed a home. I said I’d like to adopt him and they told me the full story. I was not qualified for such a big responsibility, but I already said I’d take him and they said I would be great. I knew they just wanted him out of there, so I accepted the cheerleading and signed the papers. On the way home I renamed him Douglas. Atlas was stupid. I had a feeling he felt the same way. Atlas... Douglas... it was pretty close. I said it over and over in the car as he sat there shaking and staring at me. By the end of that night he knew his forever name. And it turned out that he was smart beyond anything I could have imagined.

Doug and I learned a lot that first year with the help of two volunteer trainers, YouTube, hundreds of online articles, and solid teamwork. I think we both really wanted it to work and it did. I learned how to be patient, and how to talk, walk, touch, reach, hold, lead and trust in both of us. Douglas also learned how to be patient, and run, be touched, problem-solve, cuddle, claim his own space in the world, and like me, trust in both of us. Our awesome neighbors and friends in the ski community we lived were so onboard with “The Dougster,” and accepted him no matter how many times he tried to kill them, or when they walked too close or looked at him or said his name or just existed. Their patience and acceptance helped ease our anxiety enough for us to trust each other more and respect the process, no matter how long it took.

So six years later, we have moved to the desert, which Doug was so psyched about. We are madly in love and totally codependent. Doug can be alone for up to 8 hours now, but we’ve agreed that this is the max. He can do a full routine of tricks and will learn anything you throw at him within 5-10 minutes, no joke. He is the biggest cuddle bug I’ve ever known. He loves to sunbathe and go for long walks and EAT ANYTHING. Within the past two years, he has learned to say ‘hi’ to other dogs when on walks, and lets me know he doesn’t like them before he attacks, resulting in no incidents for over a year. I am able to be away for at least a week each year, a big difference from when we were working the “Increase Your Time Away” exercise in 10 second intervals. He imprints on his babysitter and her sweet dog, sitting beside her, letting her pet and look at him. My friend, the babysitter, and her dog also come over to visit without Doug in the kennel and with me present. If you ever met Douglas, then you know these things are truly incredible. Most people thought he was a lost cause, and many who can’t accept his differences still do. I understand it is difficult for some to accept a dog you can’t pet or play with, but those who are just a little more patient, like Doug and I were, get to discover how supercool, weird, and funny he is. I do wish you all could experience him as I do, with the belly rubs and hugs, snuggle sessions, and clowning around. His videos and pictures will hopefully continue to show his spirit and true little self.

A few weeks ago, Doug started to not be able to jump even an 18 inch height without several attempts. I started hearing his joints crack when he shifted. He started crying on his landings. And two weeks ago, this high-energy agility dog was diagnosed with rapidly degenerative osteoarthritis with onset luxation of the knees. His legs are basically giving up and can’t support him, and he is in a lot of pain. Yesterday, Doug missed the landing of the very short jump up to his bed and when he fell, his kneecap popped out. Today, the vet popped it back in, but he has completely lost the ability to use his left hind leg. If he puts any weight on it, it will luxate again and again. His degeneration is happening quickly and he will lose use of both his hind legs by the end of the year. His only hope to walk again is through orthopedic surgery. I always assumed I would have medical bills later in life as a result of the trauma done to Doug’s legs. I imagined Douglas as an older dog of 15 or 16, starting to walk slower and have a limp or bad arthritis. I knew I would be financially able to care for him when we reached that point, but that point has come far too soon and I am very much ashamed and embarrassed, but mostly devastated over not being able to pay for the surgery Doug needs. The world of veterinary medicine doesn’t have monthly payment plans for me and my over $50k in student loans. Asking for donations for Douglas’s surgery is all I have left. The surgery will enable him to walk, run, jump, be nearly pain free, and fully recover, minus a little common arthritic pain we can ease with anti inflammatories. He’s just nine years old... I am in awe of Douglas. He survived the unimaginable, from the moment he was born, for three long years. He knew nothing else. Then, he fought to find his way out of crippling fears and experience being loved and cared for and safe. Douglas deserves to have many more years to explore and play, to experience joy and comfort, and be loved by his mama. I, of course, can’t bear the thought of losing him too soon when it doesn’t have to be that way.

Thanks for reading about Doug. And thank you for contributing to his surgery if you are able. I hope to add much more to his epic story. He’s so worth it. He’s quite miraculous. He’s truly a special little guy.

I will post daily frequent updates, photos, and videos as the campaign finds its feet.