Our rescue Maltese, Sissy:
Eight pounds of fluff who came from a drug dealer who raised pit bulls for fighting. When we got her she was almost bald, badly undernourished from neglect, and probably wouldn't have lasted another month. Sis learned to bark furiously when she was hungry - so she survived on an occasional french fry when her druggie household happened to enjoy a moment of sobriety. Her mate died a month before we took her - of similar circumstances.
We took her in, and with help from her vet, fed her up, cleaned up her coat, and she regained her health, thinking for the past 14 years that she's still a pup. This furball at first didn't want to be left alone and would snooze contentedly on a folded towel next to my keyboard as I worked on Saturday mornings while the rest of the household slept in. Anything for human contact, demanding only a periodic scratch from me. After a few months, she realized we weren't leaving and doesn't mind being left alone for hours. She's totally unafraid of anything, even slept through a major hurricane . . . but is terrified of riding in the car. This is the only dog I've know who doesn't understand the concept of "play" unless it's with something edible . . . and "fetch" is a totally foreign concept - "You threw it, you go get it!"
Sissy's quite elderly now, and her fearlessness got called a month or two ago when she was attacked by a pit bull and required a dozen or so stitches to put her back together. She healed quickly and is back to sleeping peacefully on any available lap and loving her family. It's been a long and difficult road, but Sissy found a forever home with us. She's earned every bit of affection she gets.