Here's a post called "Adopt a Senior Pet Month"

 I just found this wonderful blog and wanted to share it with you.  Below is a delightful story about her experiences in adopting a senior pit bull.  I found this to be both sad and uplifting.  Such a character!
Anyway, I love when I find someone else who is crazy about dogs and I love when I find such great posts.  I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.
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ASPCA’s Top 10 Reasons to Adopt an Older Dog
Olive was my first senior adoption. She was already an older adult when she was rescued from a horrid situation with forty other neglected animals (check out my friend Michelle’s wonderful Ode to Maggie - a fellow quirky dog from the same cruelty case).
Olive was a strange dog. Sometimes she’d stare into space, or leap up from a deep sleep barking for no apparent reason. She had doggy OCD that manifested itself in the habit of curling into a tight ball to suck on her hip. She stamped her feet when she barked, which mostly happened at dinner time as if she was cheering me on as I prepared her food. She was flat-footed due to neglect, so she had a funny, uneven trot as she raced across the yard in the winter to come back inside the second she’d finished her business. She actually liked wearing sweaters in the winter - she’d prance around as soon as you dressed her up. In the summer, she could lay in the sun for hours.
She never quite got the hang of training. One obedience class instructor tried to use Olive to show tricks that would get a difficult dog to lie down. It never worked, no matter how many different types of cheese or hot dog or liver we tried to lure her with; no matter how long the class stared at me sitting on the floor with Olive standing over my legs licking my face instead of lying down to root out the treat I was holding beneath my knees. Right until the end, she would kill a stuffed animal with gusto, but she was never destructive around the house. On walks, Olive would march straight ahead with a sense of purpose, not bothering to sniff the ground like the other dogs. Any unexpected turns (especially a turn-around to go home) would cause her to freeze and the walk would degenerate into a negotiation of coaxing her a few steps at a time…until I gave up and carried her as far as I could.
Olive was one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known. Everyone of every species was greeted with a wagging tail. She was always gentle, even with packs of children crowded around her to say hello. And, despite everything she’d been through, she was a happy dog. If she heard you talk about her when she was napping, her tail would thump against the couch. This little 40 pound pittie LOVED to be carried. As soon as she was picked up, she’d lay her head on your shoulder and fall asleep with the corners of her mouth turned up in a peaceful smile. If you put her down, she’d blink at you, like she wasn’t sure what she did to deserve it.
By the time I adopted her, she was already a senior dog. I didn’t know how she’d adjust to being in a home after the cruelty case and then two years with a rescue group. I didn’t know if she’d ever get housetrained or bond with the other animals and me. But she did. It was an immediately rewarding adoption, with none of the training frustration that can come from getting a younger dog, or the uncertainty about what sort of dog you really got. Olive already was who she was - in all her weird and wonderful ways.

I only got six years with her - she was estimated somewhere between sixteen and a hundred and sixteen by the time mammary cancer took her. It was a tough loss, definitely not enough time together. When is it ever enough time? That’s the hard part with a senior dog, but it’s worth it.

Please visit her blog and read all her wonderful posts!