My second dog had a sad ending. It wasn’t my fault, or his…according to breeders and even an animal behaviorist I consulted…
As soon as I graduated from college and got my own place the first thing I wanted to do was get a dog. Within days of moving in I was at the shelter looking at potential fur-buddies. Now remember, I was an AKC person from way back…so when I saw a UKC breed there I was totally unfamiliar with it. Turns out he was a little American Eskimo dog, and his precious face, soft fluffy fur, happy demeanor, and cuddliness grabbed my heart! He came with his registration papers, which meant little to me – I just wanted a dog, and papers or not, he was the one!
He was quite young, not quite a year old, and had been adopted and returned once. The shelter had no information about why, or his history – or else they just weren’t talking. I didn’t like the name he came with – Cocoa (for a white dog?) – and I renamed him Obi, as in Obi Wan Kenobi. He was house-trained, leash-trained, knew the basic commands, so we were off to a good start. At the time I lived in a 4-unit apartment, in one of the upper units. It was large and bright, and had a huge front porch where all of the tenants gathered to chat every evening. The 2 downstairs units were occupied by older retired people; upstairs in the other apartment was a nurse who worked many long hours. But I got to know Freda and Harry very well, and so did Obi who was always with me, everywhere I went!
So when I had an opportunity to take a long day trip and Harry offered to walk Obi for me while I was gone, I didn’t think twice. I enjoyed the day with friends, and when I got home Harry was waiting up for me. Obi had bitten him, quite severely, when he tried to clip his leash onto his collar. I was horrified! It was a nasty bite, and though Harry wasn’t overly upset I surely was! I never let Obi near people without me there after that.
But he was good with me, always, and went everywhere I went…when I went to visit friends or family, he was right there with me, and always really good with everyone! Probably a year or more after the first incident I was staying at my parents’ house for a weekend, and while I was still sleeping my mom thought she’d take Obi out so he didn’t wake me up. But she woke me up after he bit her as she was clipping on the leash…another nasty bite – not a snap, a true bite. Like before. And my dad – my dad, who knew more about dogs than anyone – told me Obi had a very serious problem, and it wasn’t something that he believed could be fixed. He had seen Obi react with my mom, and was very very concerned.
I consulted with my vet. I found the names of breeders through the library and spoke with a couple of them, one of whom gave me the name of a behaviorist who specialized in dogs with “baggage”. But all of them agreed that this wasn’t a training issue, it was a behavioral problem that was too serious to try to deal with through training. Both breeders and my vet urged me to put him down before he really hurt someone. But I couldn’t. He was fine with me, always, and of course I loved him! If he had to spend the rest of his life under my strict control then that’s how it would be. I would manage it, somehow.
Several months later I was cleaning the bathroom, sweeping the floor before I mopped it. Obi came in and something instantly changed in his eyes. He came at me. That’s the only way to describe it – he lunged for me. He’d seen me sweep many many times before, the house had all vinyl floors…I don’t know what was different. But he meant business, and I believed he didn’t recognize me. I tried to keep him away from me with the broom, which he shredded. (This was a little 15# dog!) I managed to get out of the bathroom and close the door behind me. I was shaking and crying…it took a while to settle myself down but eventually I did. And I let Obi out of the bathroom. He was absolutely normal, loving and cuddly and playful as a puppy. Like nothing ever happened.
The next day I called the vet. He urged me to bring him in to be euthanized, reminding me again of all the reasons I would be unable to deal with Obi on my own. It was a soul-crushing decision. But I knew if he – after 2 years together – would attack me, he was capable of seriously hurting someone. I had seen that change in his look, in his personality, his demeanor…a switch had been flipped and for those few minutes he wasn’t my Obi…
It was a long time after that before I got another dog. My roommate (who owned the house where I was renting) had 2 dogs…one was a funny little mutt…the other was a beautiful doberman named Lady. And Lady helped me heal, and from then on she was always at my side, she slept with me and traveled with me and protected me…yes, protected me. And that will be next week’s story!
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I LOVE reading about your former pets. It sounds as if Obi had canine dementia (yes that is a ‘condition’, but usually in older dogs). I’m sorry about Obi, but I think you made the right decision in ‘letting-him-go’ to doggie heaven’. It’s likely why he was ‘returned’ to the shelter in the first place. Keep-up this ‘series’. It’s just soooooooooooo interesting!
Thank you Annette – one thing about that horrible experience was that I learned some things I’d never have learned otherwise. It was a very tough time but some of the lessons have served me well – mostly, I can’t fix everything. I have always had a sense that with enough determination and faith in the outcome (note my misplaced faith) I was in control of nearly everything in my life. As a person and as a Christian that was a valuable lesson and one of several I learned through the experience. I’m looking forward to talking about Lady next week, and all of my other dogs too! I can see by the number of hits this is a popular topic!