P.E.A.C.E. (Providing Eternal Affection for Canines Everywhere)

 

I never planned to start a rescue. It began when I was an OTR truck driver looking for a dog to take on the road. I stopped by the local animal control shelter and asked to see a miniature pinscher they had listed. The clerk warned me that no one could get near her. She was backed into a corner, growling, and scheduled to be put down on Monday for aggression.

I asked to see her anyway.

I looped a leash into a slip lead and walked into the kennel. She fought the leash the whole way out of the building. Once we were outside, she bolted ahead of me and hit the end of the line. She tried to twist out of it again, but I kept walking. After a long time outside, she finally relaxed. I carried her back inside in my arms. She was licking my face. I adopted her on the spot and renamed her Dulce. She lived to be twenty-two years old.

That moment changed me.

For most of my life I felt like an outsider. I never fit in anywhere. I was either too aggressive or too afraid. Sometimes I reacted in ways that looked angry or violent, but underneath all of it was fear. My childhood was rough. There was abuse, instability, homelessness, and long stretches where I did not know what was coming next. I learned to survive, but I did not learn how to build healthy relationships. I did not understand why people reacted the way they did, and I did not understand my own reactions either.

When I reached adulthood, I learned that I am autistic. They changed the name over the years, but I still say aspy. That diagnosis helped me understand myself in a way nothing else ever had. It explained why I struggled to read emotions and why I felt disconnected from people. It explained why I always felt like I was watching the world from the outside.

Dogs were different. I understood them in a way that made sense to me. Their reactions were honest. Their fear was familiar. Their confusion felt like something I had lived myself. When a dog shut down or lashed out, I recognized the feeling behind it. I knew what it was like to be scared and not know how to show it. I knew what it was like to be misunderstood.

I never thought of this as a talent. I saw it as something God made possible. Working with fearful dogs came naturally to me, and because of that I knew it was not from me. It was from Him. I did not go to school for it. I did not study behavior or training. God simply put me in front of dogs who needed help and made the work happen through me.

After I came off the road, I took in a boxer and mastiff mix with the same issues. She turned around too. From there it became one dog after another. A pit bull mix. An English bulldog. Many others. I renamed most of them as part of their fresh start. It felt like a small way to mark their new life.

My boxer mix Max became my partner in the work. He was calm and steady. I could leash an aggressive dog to him and walk Max off leash. Max would guide the other dog and help settle them. He is the silhouette in the PEACE logo. I took back in a dog when her behavior slipped again in her old home. She was only aggressive because she was feeding off fear in the room. Once I took the leash and the tension dropped, she relaxed and returned to the dog I knew. She stayed with me until she passed. 

After Max passed, I took a year off. Then I heard about another dog at the shelter who was labeled aggressive. I went to meet him. He was not aggressive with me at all. They called him Droggo. I adopted him and renamed him Remy Lebeaugh. We call him Remy. He is a Turkish Kangal with one floppy ear and a big coat. He is about seven years old now. He was even featured as December in a charity calendar.

Over the years I have worked with many dogs. Some stayed with me. Some found new homes. Some lived out their lives in peace. Every one of them deserved a chance. I never saw aggression as the end of the story. I saw fear. I saw confusion. I saw dogs who needed someone to believe in them.

This work is personal to me. It is not just about saving dogs. It is about understanding them. It is about giving them the chance. It is about seeing the fear behind the behavior and choosing compassion instead of judgment. It is about believing that no one is too far gone to be helped.

And this is why I founded PEACE. What began with one scared dog has grown into a mission to help the ones the world has given up on. At PEACE, our mission is simple. We provide a safe haven for dogs who have been labeled aggressive or unadoptable. We work to rehabilitate them, understand them, and give them the chance to heal. For dogs who cannot be adopted, we offer lifelong sanctuary where they can live in comfort and safety. No dog should be thrown away because it is scared. Every dog deserves a chance at a better life.

The official mission statement is:

"At P.E.A.C.E (Providing Eternal Affection for Canines Everywhere), our mission is to provide a safe haven for large breed dogs deemed aggressive or unadoptable. We are dedicated to rehabilitating these dogs, giving them the care and training they need to become loving, adoptable pets. For those who cannot be adopted, we offer a sanctuary where they can live out their lives in peace and comfort. We accept dogs from individuals and other shelters, ensuring that no dog is ever put down due to behavior or lack of adoptability. Our commitment is to give every dog a chance at a better life.”