The Devil is in De Tails

It began as a routine consultation in Eugene, Oregon. The call came in from the Luv-a-Bull rescue organization: We have an aggressive dog. He is making the other dogs' lives miserable. Please, Cesar, help us.

Nestled in amongst the pines and the redwoods, the Luv-a-Bull rescue in Eugene provides a no-kill environment for adoptable pit bulls.

So, armed only with that information, Cesar naturally assumed that he would be tasked with rehabilitating a wayward pit. But what he found instead was a shelter full of terrified pit bulls dominated by one very small, very surly Chihuahua in dire need of an exorcism - EL DIABLO!

"I walked in and saw all of these beautiful pit bulls mingling perfectly, just like at my center," says Cesar, "and so I asked, 'how can I help you? All your pit bulls here are amazing!' And the woman says, 'didn't they tell you? It's him!' and she pointed to a Chihuahua in the corner. And when he started moving around, I saw it... all of the pit bulls in the room would move up against the wall whenever he would pass by. All the poor pit bulls were terrified of him. I never in a million years would have thought that such a small, fat, arthritic dog could accomplish such a thing. He was bullying the Bullies!"

Diablo's heft may have kept him from moving swiftly, but the fear he instilled in the pit bulls around him came from his attitude, not his speed. The Luv-a-Bull rescue's free-feeding policy meant that food was kept on the floor for any of the dogs to eat when they pleased. It also meant that any one dog - in this case, an aggressive Chihuahua - could claim it all. And claim it, he did! Diablo's habit of sitting by the food and growling menacingly at passersby cemented his position as top dog in the shelter. And when Cesar removed him from that environment, the pit bulls that emerged from the nooks and crannies of the facility like frightened cats might have thanked him aloud if they'd had the words.

"They all came out like, 'Thank you SO MUCH!' This had been going on for a year, and the woman who runs the center had been trying for that long to rehabilitate [Diablo]. She couldn't get close to this Chihuahua, but she could tell a pit bull what to do anytime."

In addition to providing Cesar with a well-loved story (the enjoyment on his face at the telling of it was obvious during our interview), this particular case had a happy ending for another of Cesar's pack, as well. Rakim, whom you may remember as our resident escape-artist-turned-male-nurse, found a home at the Luv-a-Bull rescue in exchange for El Diablo. And Diablo himself has been taken in by one of Cesar's newest employees, Location Manager Rich Mercer, whose job it was to drive the tiny terror home from Oregon to Los Angeles and who reports that, although it's been a tough road and slow going, the two of them are finally beginning to understand one another.

Re-christened as Sammy Davis, Jr. for the sake of his rehabilitation, the once feral Chihuahua now seems well on his way to casting the devil out for good.

"Diablo learns to trust people who don't immediately force their hand to pet him and invade his space," says Mercer, "with that [in mind] and calm and assertive behavior, winning Diablo over is just a piece of cake... devil's food cake, to be exact."