ASA Aesthetics by Sarah Ann

Trigger warning ⚠️
I know everyone is going to head straight to the comments asking how I got the scar. The truth is, it wasn't a freak accident.
It was my mistake.
Back in lockdown, I adopted Arya, Mylo's sister.
Her previous owners had chosen the breed because they loved the look of Pomskies, but quickly realised they were far more work than they expected. They told me she was aggressive, destructive and difficult to manage.
What shocked me most was what they said next.
Despite believing she was aggressive, they planned to keep her for breeding because she was a pretty dog and wanted to make their money back.
I remember thinking, if you genuinely believe a dog is aggressive, why would you want to breed from her? Why would you want to pass those traits on? Why would you breed a dog you openly admit you're struggling with and don't fully understand?
The more questions I asked, the more I realised this wasn't an aggressive dog.
This was a frightened dog that nobody had taken the time to understand.
Something didn't sit right with me.
So during lockdown, I drove from Manchester to London to collect her. The moment we arrived, I knew something wasn't right. Most puppies would run over to investigate. They'd be excited to see new people, sniff around or want attention. Arya did the opposite.
She ran straight into her crate, hid under a blanket and wouldn't come out. That was my first glimpse into how scared she really was. When I got her home, she was incredibly poorly and the first few days were a blur of veterinary appointments. When I reunited her with her brother Mylo, he was excited, bouncing around and desperate to play.
Arya sat in the corner cowering.
She wasn't confident.
She wasn't happy.
She wasn't the puppy she should have been.
Looking back now, I believe so much of what people labelled as aggression was actually fear.
⬇️ Continue reading in the comments ⬇️