From abandoned pup to heaven on earth: Dara’s story

A guest post by FAAS board member Janet Davis, whose dog Dara is this year's After the Ball Dog Pet Star.

Puppy days

In the spring of 2011, three Akbash Dog pups were abandoned at the Placer County Shelter in Northern California. They were named Dolly, Loretta, and Patsy, after country singers. Because the shelter knew these rare livestock guardians needed specialized homes, they contacted my breed rescue.

I found a foster for one pup, but that left me scrambling. The best time to take in a pair of foster puppies, I discovered, is when your husband is away for three weeks.

The sisters filled our yard with playful chaos, mock-battling on their hind legs, digging up the irrigation system, and barking at everything. At night they slept in a giant crate beside my bed, while our adult Akbash, Tash, retreated to a back room, unimpressed with the newcomers.

I eventually placed Loretta on a winery in Healdsburg, where she thrived patrolling acres of vines and even landed in a “winery dogs” book.

Dolly, with her softer, needier nature, stayed with me. Her soulful brown eyes, rimmed with white lashes, seemed to plead for closeness. She became Dara — and she was clearly meant to stay.

Bonding with Rajiv and Tash

I broke the news to Rajiv on his way home from the airport. Dara was asleep in her crate when he walked in, lights low, everything seemingly peaceful. By morning, of course, the disruption was evident.

At first he was apprehensive. He liked our predictable, calm home. But Dara quickly charmed him. With her silky white coat, Golden Retriever-like ears, long agile legs, and tail curled over her back, she was striking. Her personality was even more irresistible.

She adored Tash. Few dogs enjoyed his rough, one-hundred-pound play style, but Dara threw herself into it with glee. She chased him around the dining table, across the couch, out the back door, only to be gently pinned with his mouth around her neck before bouncing back for more. On walks she shadowed him, learning the leash by his side. At rest she pressed close, chin draped across his back.

Their bond was instant and deep — and the center of our home.

Tash and Dara bonded immediately

The heartwarming bond became the center of their lives and home

Her clever streak

Dara also showed her wits early. When Tash had a bone, she would flop dramatically onto her back a few feet away, writhing like a fish out of water until he stopped chewing to stare at her. The moment he was distracted, she trotted off with his bone.

Sometimes she went for the humans too. Pizza was her weakness. One night she strutted into the dining room with a slice dangling from her mouth. I took it away and shoved the box far back on the counter — not far enough. Later, she reappeared, walking backwards into the room, head craned away, slice clenched in her jaws as if pretending we couldn’t see. This time she tried to hide it behind the dining table. Who could deny her that prize?

Tash eventually turned the tables. If Dara was blocking him from Rajiv during handouts, he’d suddenly erupt into ferocious barking toward the yard, sending her charging outside in full guard-dog mode. As soon as she was gone, he calmly returned to Rajiv’s side. We soon recognized his “fake barks” and would just exchange a glance: “He tricked her again.”

But the moment that sealed Dara’s fate wasn’t mischief — it was tenderness. One day she shredded Rajiv’s favorite slippers. As he feigned outrage, Dara leapt onto the bed, slipped her paws around his neck, and hugged him. Rajiv melted. So did I. That was the day she became ours for good.

Opinionated girl As she matured, Dara revealed a strong will. On walks, if she wasn’t ready to return, she collapsed to the ground in a perfect act of passive resistance. Sometimes she planted herself in the street facing her favorite neighbor’s house, convinced he would appear with a treat if she waited long enough. And often, she was right.

But Dara’s stubbornness never felt combative. It was negotiation. Sometimes she gave in, sometimes I did. What mattered was the mutual understanding.

Her hugs became legendary. Dara didn’t just accept an embrace; she leaned her whole self into it, melting against you, absorbing your emotions, and sending comfort back. Few dogs have ever hugged with such intention. She had a smile, too — wide, genuine, unforgettable.

Empathy and connection

Her gift for empathy extended to everyone around her. When my young nephew from India first visited, he was paralyzed with fear of dogs. For hours he sat stiffly on the couch, refusing to move.

Dara, sensing his terror, climbed up beside him, draped her body across his lap, and lay quietly until his breathing softened. Tentatively, he stroked her fur. By the end of his stay, he was petting Tash too, and left speaking fondly of them both.

Eight years later he returned, now a young man who had endured deep loss: his mother, and in the meantime, my sister, my parents, and Tash had all passed. Dara was older then, but when he sat on the couch she climbed up and rested her head in his lap, just as before. “I am feeling really quite nostalgic right now,” he whispered, stroking her head.

Dara also shared our family’s sorrows. The night my sister died, she and Tash lay quietly with her daughters, absorbing their grief. When my father received his cancer diagnosis, gloom weighed on the room until Dara bounded in with a forgotten stuffed bear, tossing it in the air like a puppy, slipping on the floor as though determined to make us laugh.

Grief and resilience Her greatest heartbreak came when Tash passed in 2021. They had never been apart. That day she lay beside him as he slipped away, and turned her back when his body was carried from the house. For days she refused food or walks. It was six months before glimmers of her old spirit returned.

Together, Dara and Tash had loved open spaces. Every day we walked the Bay Farm Island Trail. On vacations, we sought out fenced acreage where they could roam.

And most of all, they loved the beach. At Stinson Beach they raced together through the surf, joyous and free.

But after Tash’s passing, when we brought Dara back to the beach, she refused to walk, lying down in sorrow. Even strangers noticed. “Your dog looks so sad,” one said. They were right. What had been joy had become grief.

Everyday life

Guardian breeds in suburbia require management. Rules were firm: no begging, no furniture. Rajiv once complained, “I can’t sit anywhere without dog hair on my suits!” I replied, “That’s why it’s called furniture.”

Still, Dara could “work” a chair like no other. She’d sit upright, paws crossed, calmly observing us like a philosopher. At those moments, it felt like sharing the room with another person.

She was protective, intelligent, funny, and endlessly loving. She could outwit Tash, comfort a grieving child, lighten despair, or simply melt into one of her unforgettable hugs.

Legacy To honor her, Plein Air painter Marie Massey captured her in Grande Dame Dara.

We miss our beloved “Baby D” every day.

Dara — January 2011 to September 19, 2024

Dara is FAAS's Dog Pet Star for this year's disco-themed After the Ball, our signature fundraising event taking place October 18. Tickets are on sale now! Click the link above to learn more!