Manilo is the only one here who ever had a home.
I was told he was being mistreated. He went from a family that neglected him, to a man I know nothing about, and then to another person who couldn’t handle him.
In the end: a thin, angry dog, chained to barely a meter of freedom, ready to bite anything that moved — me included.
When I went to pick him up, I brought Timmy, one of my big, socially gifted boys.
And honestly, if Timmy hadn’t been there, I’d probably have come home with one hand less.
During the whole drive back, Manilo was restless, terrified.
I tried everything to calm him down — nothing worked.
Once at the Rancho, I put him in the safe space I had prepared, but he couldn’t handle being confined. He screamed, destroyed everything, and I was completely overwhelmed.
I sat down and cried while he tried to tear his way out.
Then I made a crazy decision: I set him free.
I thought, maybe he’ll leave. Maybe that’s what he wants — to be free, after all those years on a chain.
And if that was what he wanted, I should at least give him that.
When I came back, he was still there.
Waiting for us.
And from that moment on, everything changed.
He watched my dogs, listened, learned.
He understood the pack’s rules, found his place, and slowly, aggression gave way to trust.
Freedom turned out to be the best medicine.
But Manilo will never be a calm dog.
He’s a four-month-old puppy trapped in an adult’s body.
He’s discovering life for the first time — doing all the puppy things, except he weighs 30 kilos. He steals food, jumps around, breaks stuff, and loves a little too hard sometimes.
When he was finally strong enough, I took him to get neutered.
It was supposed to be routine… but the next day, his body shut down. He was trembling all over, collapsing, even while sleeping.
The diagnosis: a tick-borne disease that had gone unnoticed and was triggered by the anesthesia.
We started emergency treatment — antibiotics, iron, vitamins — and, of course, a lot of love.
Within 24 hours, the tremors began to fade.
Slowly, he got his body back.
Today, Manilo runs (a little crookedly), plays, and keeps rediscovering life.
He’s intense, chaotic, full of raw tenderness — a dog still learning what it means to be loved.
By sponsoring Manilo, you help cover his treatments, his food, his meds…
and, let’s be honest, a few “accidental” repairs too. 😅
