Making Up for Lost Time:
Angel's Happily Ever After
Angel came to the Humane Society of Southern Arizona as a stray found in Marana. Intake X-rays turned up embedded BBs, or possibly birdshot, scattered through her body. The veterinary team assessed the situation and made a practical call: the pellets weren't causing immediate harm, and removing them would. So Angel kept her history inside her, healed on her own terms, and waited for what came next.
Chuck and Ginny were what came next.
They're HSSA volunteers and experienced fosters, so they understood the difference between a dog who's adopted and a dog who's landed. Angel came home to Oro Valley about a month ago. I connected with them through Lenna Mendoza, HSSA's Marketing and Communications Manager, as part of the organization's Happily Ever After program, which documents the moment a rescue story tips from survival into something that looks a lot more like living.
We'd planned for Monday morning. On Saturday they reached out to reschedule, so I arrived at noon on Wednesday, April 29th, into an 83-degree afternoon that felt more like a gift than a forecast. After introductions with Chuck and Ginny, I met Angel.
Angel checks out the javalina behind her home.
She was on the back porch, stretched out in the sun the way dogs do when they've decided a place is theirs. We agreed to work outside, which was the obvious call, and Angel made it easier by being exactly who she apparently always is with new people.
She came over to say hello, sniffed my hands with the focused interest of someone running a background check, then raised her right paw and set it on my hand.
I obliged. She accepted this as the correct response and gave me a nibble.
More petting, less talking.
For anyone unfamiliar with the term: pibble nibbles are a specific behavior, common in pit bull-type dogs and some related breeds, where the dog mouths your hand gently as a form of affection. No pressure, no aggression. Just a tactile "I like you" delivered with whatever the canine equivalent of a poker face is. It can read as alarming to someone who doesn't know what they're seeing. To someone who does, it lands as a compliment. Angel's version was playful and a little sassy, which I read as a passing grade. She then moved directly to investigating my camera bag, which, after years of sessions with dogs and cats and a permanent ambient cloud of treat residue, smells like every animal I've ever photographed. To a dog, this is fascinating.
(She is speculated to be basenji and Shiba Inu. Chuck and Ginny plan to do a DNA test. Whatever her DNA says, the nibble was all pibble.)
While Angel conducted her inspection, I got the model releases signed. We moved into the session from there. She hasn't really worked through basic obedience yet, which kept things loose and natural. A few portraits of Angel on her own, plenty more of her with Chuck and Ginny, where her personality showed up most clearly.
Look at that little tongue!
“Love, love, love the photos! Thanks for driving out and shooting them”
She reportedly loves meeting new people, which matched my experience of her exactly. What Chuck and Ginny find surprising is how hesitant she still is inside the house. They attribute it to her time on the streets, and to something harder: Angel was adopted once before and returned. That kind of experience doesn't show on an X-ray. It takes time and the right people to work through.
Lenna knew Angel during her time at the shelter. When she saw the photos, she said she'd never once seen Angel relax or smile while she was there.
From what I saw on that porch, she's making up for lost time.
