Mina and Celeste love visiting my parents. There's that big backyard and their second and third favorite people. But mainly, there's the yard.
When I first adopted Mina, I lived in a house. I was in college and it worked out really well bringing home a dog (who was a "foster"). When I moved out, I ended up living with my parents for almost two years while I finished up my degree.
And then began the search. Finding a needle in a haystack is preferable to trying to find housing allowing a pit bull. I had her folder with her obedience certificates, veterinary information, references, a letter of rec'd from both my dog trainer and my boss, and the offer to meet Mina and judge her for HER, not her breed. Still, if it wasn't rental insurance policies with their blacklisted breeds (which often included Dalmatians) it was people scared of pit bulls.
So when I found a place that would take Mina and it was affordable, I jumped at the opportunity. I'm not a huge fan of apartment living and I can't claim that my small rennovated victorian complex is upper crust, but it's full of generally nice people, kids, and a "dogs welcome" atmosphere. I moved in with Mina and we made do.
Then came Celeste. I "fostered" her after a spay camp down in Mexico. I was under the impression she'd be 20 lbs, which would have made my life a little more manageable. Instead she kept growing and finally topped out at 45 lbs. My landlord was very kind, allowing me to have the second dog, even though she was bigger than the 40lb limit (Mina is 38-40 lbs).
Anyway, two dogs in an apartment is tough on them, though not horribly so. It's only tough the one hour a day they really want to run like crazies throughout the house/yard. The other 23 hours, they're pretty much zonked out on the sofa or bed.
But at my parents, oh how much fun they have! They frolick and romp and play and I sigh happily that THEY are happy.
For like a half-hour. And the rest of the time, this is what Mina's doing:
She is a lazy dog and she does not care.