We first saw Moby on the Petfinder website....I received the following response to an email I’d sent to a New Jersey rescue organization: “This is Melanie from Pet Rescue of Mercer.  Moby is a wonderful older boy who desperately needs a foster or forever home.  We have done extensive surgeries for him and he is recovering from them all. His time is running out at his current facility and because of his size it has been hard to find another place able to take care of him.”

  He’d been picked up by animal control wandering around an airport near Trenton and was taken to the shelter. He was in a bad way, with an ear so infected that its insides were removed and the flap sewn shut, two entropic eyelids which also required surgery and a lump (fortunately benign) which was removed from his throat. Someone had docked his tail, so he had only about six inches to wag. He was also heartworm positive! The wonderful folks at Pet Rescue of Mercer sponsored all his treatments and the extra-wonderful woman who worked at the municipal shelter made sure he was well cared for and loved. But they couldn’t keep him forever – it was a kill shelter.

After emailing back and forth with Melanie, Moby’s sponser, we hopped in the Mastiffmobile, our big tan van, and headed north shortly before Thanksgiving. Molly, Aubrey, Sara and Kingsley went with us, to see how they did with the new dog. We caused quite a stir at the rest stops along the way! (Continued At Left)

We had to lift Moby, who was far too weak to walk far, into the 'Mastiffmobile' and he immediately curled up on the blankets next to Sara’s crate and went to sleep. The other dogs kept their distance at first, but then started moving closer to him to snuggle. About halfway home to Virginia, I left my seat up front with Mr. Lee to go make friends with Moby. He woke up a little when I started stroking him, and I cuddled up close and put my arms around him. He gave a big sigh gave a little wiggle, dropped his head on my arm and went to sleep.

When we got Moby home, we took him to the vet within the week, as we do with all our rescues. He was an older boy, as we’d known, and needed to put on a lot of weight. His skin was very flaky and his hair was falling out. (When we gave him a bath, the grass was covered with hair!) Because he was still on his heartworm regimen, we had to make sure he wasn’t active for a couple of weeks. That meant crating him except when taking him outside or when we were in the bedroom to supervise.

We learned two things right away. Moby was a dominant dog, and our other dogs accepted that totally. He wasn’t violent or aggressive, but his posture and his penetrating stare made everyone treat him respectfully, as was his due. We also learned how he had come by his name. We had thought he was called “Moby” because he was the size of the famous whale; turns out, many of the sounds he made sounded like whalesong. He sang and moaned; he was far more vocal than any of our other dogs. And, boy, did he have a deep bark! 

(Conclusion)

One of our big guessing games was what breed Moby was. He didn’t really look like a Neapolitan Mastiff and not exactly like any of our English Mastiff boys and girls, either. I had purchased a book of dog breeds and was leafing through it, and showed Mr. Lee the picture of the Fila Brasiliero (Brazilian Mastiff) and we both saw Moby’s resemblance to both the photograph and the description. When we researched the breed further, we realized that Moby’s temperament matched up, too. He was fearless in new situations, and the fanciers even have a name for that penetrating stare – they call it the “ojo.” Originally bred with mastiff stock combined with Bloodhound lines, Filas were used to control cattle, bring down big cats in the jungle and to track criminals.

Moby quickly started filling out and getting stronger. And he did things that none of our other kids ever thought to do! We have chain-link gates for our large dog lawns, with a clip to secure the gate, in addition to the regular latch. (We did this because Cadfael, our first boy, learned to lift the whole gate off its posts.) Once Cadfael passed away, we weren’t as vigilant about using the clip. Were we surprised when we watched Moby confidently walk up to the gate and flip the latch open with his nose and push the gate wide open. Smart dog! We started using the clips religiously again.

Another surprise was when we had a whole chicken cooling on the sink counter. It was high enough so that no-one had ever lifted anything down from it before. Well, you guessed it: Mr. Lee turned his back and when he turned around again, Mr. Moby was standing there with the entire chicken securely fixed in his jaws. The other mastiffs stood transfixed, watching chicken fat drip onto the floor. If dogs could have said, “Wow, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” our fab’ four would have said it in unison. Mr. Moby, on the other hand, couldn’t have said anything, even were the power of speech suddenly granted him. His mouth was absolutely stuffed with chicken. We couldn’t let him have it, of course, because of the bones, but how to retrieve it? He didn’t try to fly with his prize; he just stood there while we coaxed and pried at his jaws. That was a losing battle; if you have mastiffs, you know the power of those jaws.

Moby didn’t growl or act in any way aggressively. He just held fast. Finally, we got the chicken out by holding his nostrils closed and he relinquished his prize. No, we didn’t eat the chicken; the big dogs had a nice treat for supper (without the bones, of course). A tradition was born that night, too: when I cook chickens, I always cook two.

At first, we thought Moby was entirely deaf, but we kept talking to him anyway, as we do all our dogs. We always clean our dogs’ ears regularly, and Moby’s remaining ear was especially dirty. I guess we got enough dirt out over time that he resumed some of his hearing. What a surprise when he looked up one day as I called his name and came trotting over to me! His hearing slowly improved, though he continued to have trouble with ear infections, which we kept under control with medication.

Since Moby had no eyelids or lashes, his eyes were very sensitive and we took care to keep them clean. Gradually, the sore-looking pink skin turned dark like the rest of his skin. He went to the doggie eye doctor in Richmond to make sure things were healing as they should. Construction guys on a roof of a building we passed all leaned precariously over the drop to admire our beautiful boy. Ladies left him smelling of all varieties of perfume as they petted and cuddled him. Moby accepted all this as his due.

As his strength returned, he began to run and play. He loved having a ball, but he didn’t play with it; he stood over it, guarding it between his front paws. He liked to get on high places, like our well cover or the back of our little truck, and survey the scene. And he loved to sleep in the sun.  He eventually gained about 30 pounds.

In the spring, another dog joined our pack: Tartu, a St. Bernard from South Carolina. Yes, the Mastiffmobile headed south and, despite a seven-hour delay in Petersburg, Virginia when the van’s starter died in the MacDonald’s drive-through, returned triumphant with the newest addition to the pack. (We take care to call Tartu an “Alpine Mastiff,” so he doesn’t feel like the odd man out.)

We had a learning experience ahead of us, because Mr. Tartu proved to be a dominant dog, just like Moby. We’d never had to deal with any aggression or territoriality before. We soon learned what triggered the two big guys to start competing and the biggest issue was food. We set clear guidelines and, while Moby and Tartu never particularly cared for each other, they kept their distance and did their best to ignore one another. We did our best to make it easy for them to succeed, and they both did a great job living up to our expectations.

By the start of summer, everyone was getting along fine and could be left alone together while Mr. Lee went to work. It was fun to see the personalities emerge and see how the various dogs interacted with one another. Moby learned to enjoy vegetables from our garden and we started feeding everyone tuna and sardines.

Around August, we noticed a swelling on one of Moby’s front joints. We didn’t want to think the worst, but we took him in to Dr. Skinner, who did X-rays. Unfortunately, it was bone cancer, just what had afflicted our first boy Cadfael. We knew what to expect: we administered pain killers and watched Moby grow progressively weaker over the next two weeks. At last, we knew it was time, and Dr. Skinner put Moby to sleep right in the Mastiffmobile. Mr. Lee and I were both there, and I snuggled him just as I had done when we’d shared that long drive home from New Jersey.

We had considered cremation, but, in the end, changed our minds. The night before we euthanized Moby, Mr. Lee had dug a large, deep hole in the garden, not far from the beehives and very close to where our first boy Cadfael was laid to rest. We conducted a little ceremony. Moby now rests wrapped in his favorite wool blanket, with amber and silver gifts from the humans who loved him. We had less than a year together, but it was a rich and special time. Our sorrow at his loss only enhances the love we felt for our big brindle boy.