In 2005 the dog I had for 13.5 years, since I was 18 years old, got really sick. He lost his hearing, the ability to hold his bowels, some of his vision, and ultimately didn't know who I was. I had to make the incredibly difficult decision to put him to sleep. It was difficult even though I knew that he had no quality of life anymore and wasn't feeling good. I made myself go with him to the vet, and sat with him as he quietly passed. When people lose a beloved pet they seem to generally react in one of two ways; they immediately get a new dog or they can't stand even the idea of getting a new dog for several years or maybe ever. I fell into the former category. I borrowed a dog right away, not being able to stand the loneliness of not having a furry companion to meet me at the door. I was single after all, dying for a family of my own, with no prospects. I got that dog, my first dog, as a 4 week old puppy. I found him on a redneck from hell compound in some shit hole backwoods of North Carolina. A grimy little child was holding two puppies who were dangling by their neck and a bag of doritos. I did everything I knew to raise him right. When he was a few years old one of my roommates had a pit bull who repeatedly attacked him. It was a terrible situation. I don't know if it was that or his nature but he turned mean. I spent most of his life keeping him from children, mailmen, etc. He only liked adults.
When it came time to get a new dog, I wanted to make sure that I got one who would be peaceful. I am a person who believes in being committed to animals and I didn't want another situation where I would have to constantly be fearful of the dog doing something bad. Maybe in retrospect I should have waited and taken more time to find the "perfect" dog, but I thought that I had found the perfect dog for me.
My roommate and I found Cooper in the basement of Montgomery County Humane Society. The behavior specialist asked me to give him a chance. He was quarantined for kennel cough. She said he was a good boy, that he listened well. I took him home and he sneezed green snot all over my walls. I tried to crate train him but he was obviously scared of the crate from past experience. I penned him in the kitchen and for weeks every time I left for work my roommate would call and tell me that he had escaped. My dad would come and fortify the gate, make it taller. He ate the phone. We were all committed to him. I took him through beginner and intermediate behavioral training, took him for walks, let him sleep in the bed. I brought him around every dog and child I could find. He turned out wonderfully. He looked at me with those soulful brown eyes and cuddled with me in bed, letting me use him as a pillow. He let kids poke and prod him. He listened to me and he loved me.
Down the road I met my husband to be and he loved him too. They went jogging in the mornings. He was the lab my husband had wanted. We moved to a big house with a three acre yard. Cooper ran free and chased things and went swimming and jogging. We got him a yellow lab friend. He tolerated that puppy chewing and drooling all over him. We had a baby. He lay in bed with me and my son while I nursed through the night, keeping me company.
Cooper was always anxious though. He feels safe on a leash but when he is loose, he doesn't like unpredictable situations like being cornered or surprised or when there are a lot of people around. We put him outside when people come. He nipped my husbands friend and his father once, but honestly I thought that those situations could have been prevented. We managed things and time passed calmly.
Now my son is a toddler and he loves the dogs. Cooper has growled at him three times now. We are scared that if pushed he may bite him. I find myself in this impossible place, being this person who has to find a dog a good home because of a baby. I scoffed at these types of people, thought they were lazy, bad dog owners, assholes, really. But yet again life has taught me that judging people is just stupid because you don't know what you will do in a given situation. We have talked this to death and we can't live in a situation where we have to worry that our golden beautiful miracle of a child could get hurt in any way. Just today I was cooking dinner and my son ran right to Cooper laying in front of the door and was going to dive right on him. The dog didn't react but my heart froze in my chest. I just can't live like that.
I am trying to spread the word through facebook, everyone I can think of, craigslist, freecyle, everything. If we can only find him a good home with an adult, he would be the greatest most loving companion, just like he was to me. Sometimes I have the faith that this will happen, and sometimes I am filled with despair over who would want a 7 year old dog with his temperament issues. I the meantime, I have to somehow reconcile myself to living with him. I torn between loving him and distancing myself. I haven't slept in my bed since we made the decision several days ago. I am going up there tonight and already hyperventilating at the thought of what it will do to me emotionally. He sleeps up next to me like a body pillow. I USE him as a pillow most nights.
So this is what "they" meant when they said you'd have to make hard decisions when you have children. I never wanted to be this person who gets rid of a dog. I never wanted this situation where I would have to make this type of decision. How did this happen to me again? But here I am, and I will do what's best for my son.
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