My Plott Hound was a rescue that I got when she was less than a year old. She had been beaten almost to death (maybe because she wasn't a good hunter, ...hopefully he's in hell) and for months after I got her, if you came up to her, she would lay down, cringe and just wait for the beatings. She died a week and a half ago at 13 years old. She was without a doubt the greatest dog that ever walked the earth. She roamed around my farm and in the woods, layed on the porch, and slept at the foot of my bed. She loved all people who came here after being very wary for several years of men. She had one accident in the house the first day she was here, I put her nose in it and said no, and she never had another her entire life. She listened when I told her do something, loved walks to the creek, and laying on her beanbag in the great room. When my wife left a couple of years ago, she didn't dare think of bringing up taking Halle. She had been slowing down and ill all summer and spent quite of bit time at our vets. She hadn't been able to go upstairs for about a month and she died curled up on that beanbag mat about 4 AM last Tuesday. I was glad I got to be with her here at home instead of having to put her down.
Rescue pets are the best, and she was my buddy.