It's been a long, rough road to this point. What started out with joy and good intentions ended up being one of the toughest decisions my husband and I have had to make. I am relieved. My husband is tormented.
Our story begins like this:
Once upon a time a Man wanted a dog. He wanted a dog so badly that he felt obsessed. He fantasized about owning a German Shepherd - a big, masculine dog; you know, none of those little fru-fru dogs for him.
His Wife wasn't so keen on having another dog after the recent passing of their two older dogs; plus, their having owned a GS before, she dubbed this breed "German Shedders" and really didn't want to deal with the mounds of hair all over the house. She was also bone weary from caring for their two children, homeschooling and having responsibility for the household.
However, the Man truly was obsessed with getting a GS. The Wife finally gives in because it's important to the Man and dogs are supposed to good for one's health by providing a positive environment.
The Man does lots of research. Picks out the puppy by himself because the travel is too much for the young children. Puppy is brought home. Cared for. Loved. Exercised every day. Properly trained (no treat training for a GS!). Family is warned by Trainer that this dog is "going to be an asshole." Family laughs it off and thinks the Trainer is exaggerating.
Around the time the dog is almost a year, the Man gets ill. Dog starts acting weird and growling at children. Dog no longer allowed to sleep in the room with everyone. Man gets better.
Dog continues to growl around children. Then proceeds to correction bite them when the children reach for a stick or something else. Man and Wife are freaked out by this, but still think it's correctable. Decide to neuter the dog.
Dog tries to take out the Vet by going for her throat at the veterinary clinic. The event was so traumatic for the Man that it is decided that the Wife will bring the dog in for the actual neutering because maybe the dog feels over-protective of the Man. Dog is successfully neutered.
Life goes on. Continued growling by the dog. And incidents of biting. The Wife is bitten. Now the Wife is afraid of the dog. Children can no longer feed the dog nor be around when the dog is fed. Dog growls if Wife puts on leash for a walk. The dog hates walks anyways and drags at the back to slow everything down until he figures out that they are going back home. Wife pissed because the dog is not even good for exercise. No one can touch, pet or love the dog. Except for by throwing balls.
The dog ends up not even being good for protection because he needs to be put in his crate to avoid growling and confrontations with family members other than the husband when in the house. The dog goes to the crate by himself or the back bathroom. He doesn't want to integrate.
Conversely, the dog loves the Husband. Can have fun with the children in the backyard by jumping over courses that they design for him. He likes to boss his minions around by only dropping his ball when he wants to and then barking like crazy until someone throws it for him. He also likes "two-ball" - a game where he holds one ball in his mouth and noses another ball toward a willing participant to kick to him; dog greatly enjoys watching the human run around the backyard kicking the ball toward him while he stares at the ball with enormous intent and occasionally noses it back. Sometimes he'll lavish the youngest child with licky kisses.
Over the years, the aggression escalates. The oldest child hits puberty and the dog doesn't like it. A threat to pack order. He constantly targets the oldest child by growling and sometimes charging. The oldest child cannot enter a room that the dog is in even to get a pair of socks. The dog must be constantly monitored and doors closed to keep them apart and oldest child safe.
Lots of effort is thrown at this situation to try to make it better. The Trainer informs the Man and Wife, "What you guys have here is a Ferrari; what you need is a mini-van." They are bummed. They pay him to help them re-home the dog then hear from him once and then never again. The Breeder tells them to smack the dog's nose with a rolled up newspaper and then proceeds to never return any of their calls or e-mails. The Man and Wife reach out to different shelters. Ask for help from anyone they can think of. Desperate for a solution. The Wife even calls in an Animal Psychic.
Years go by. No solution. Doors closing. Everyone in the house feels hostage. The Man still loves the dog and feels responsible for him, yet the Man is also tormented by the stress that is constantly evoked in the house by the dog's behavior. The youngest child loves the dog as young children do and doesn't want him to go. The oldest child loves the animal, but feels rightly afraid of this dog and cannot walk freely in her own home. The Wife is at her wits end. She is waiting for the Man to do the right thing.
The Man gets ill again. The Wife fears greatly for the Man's health and survival. The Wife has had it. The protection of the family and the health of the husband has priority over all else. The dog must go. All doors have closed on chances for the dog:
- He cannot go to a family
- He cannot to go an average single person who does not understand this dog's aggression and might let someone approach or pet it
- He cannot be a protection dog
- He cannot be a service dog
- He cannot go to a shelter because no shelter wants a huge, fearful aggressive animal that cannot be re-homed
One option comes up only if it is approved of by the Board of the Special Training Facility: The dog can be placed into a special program to train it and try to re-home it in in 8 weeks for $3,000. The New Trainer warns the Wife that this dog will be nearly impossible to place and that staying longer will cost more. Wife figures it will cost nearly $6,000 to $12,000 to try to give this dog a chance and he still may not find a proper home. The Wife also realizes that passing this problem dog onto someone else is not fair, nor is it particularly safe for people out there in the world.
Wife draws a line in the sand. The. Dog. Must. Go. With the only option now being that the dog must be put down. Wife goes to the local vet. Clinic looks at his chart and tells Wife that the dog is too aggressive to be put down there. They need to go to a special clinic that deals with this sort of thing. The Man locates an euthanasia specialist who can come to the house. The Man will have to administer the lethal dose because no one can get near the dog. Plus the Man really loves the dog, feels responsible for the dog and wants the dog to be respected and have a peaceful ending. The Wife just wants the Man to be at peace with however it is done (if she lived in Texas, she would have already taken care of it with a shotgun.)
On the designated day, no one can even love or pet the dog goodbye (expcept maybe the Man); the children have a last run around the backyard with the dog and the Wife then takes the children from the house. The deed is successfully done. The dream of a happy ending for the dog - of the dog running around on some kind of ranch in the open, happy and free - never materialized, despite desperate wishing, hoping and dreaming on everyone's part. It was an ending. Just not a happy one.
That is our story in a nutshell. It's not everything but most of it. I can hardly believe it even happened. After I finish writing this blog, I will walk through our living room to go to bed without the dog growling at me as I pass by him.
My oldest daughter can now walk freely through the house to search for articles of clothing that she has dropped carelessly on the floor. My youngest will be sad and start hammering at us for another dog. My husband will be very, very sad. He is heartbroken over this. This is the hardest for him.
For me, I am relieved. I do not even feel sad for the death of this dog. Although I do feel sad about the whole situation. This has been the most painful ordeal. Working for and waiting for an palatable resolution. Enduring the stress and intensity of the situation. Waiting and waiting for my husband to make the choice. Sometimes I felt angry that he was not taking action. But in the end, it was I who needed to make the push. Maybe that was the right thing. To take this terrible burden of the choice from him. And at the right time. By this time we were all at our complete wit's end with only the most terrible option in front of us.
I remember when my mother put down her Cocker Spaniel because he was a biter. My husband and I were aghast. Who could do such a thing? Surely the dog was controllable. And our perception as dog owners had always been that only bad or incompetent owners had bad dogs.
Well, this was quite a lesson. I am not sure I have taken in all the parts of this lesson yet, but I am trying to see the big picture. Definitely it fortifies my belief, "Never say never" because that particular situation may just come up in your life to teach you that you are capable of doing just what you said you would never do.
As far as our dog: His name was Udo. I called him Fritz. I hope he is now in a place where he feels safe and at ease; with lots of ball throwing and juicy steaks; a place to run, jump and play; and bark at squirrels. May he rest in the most delicious peace.
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