My sister-and brother-in-law had to put down their dog yesterday. This sadness on the heels of my outburst over a piece of meat, makes me feel bad. Bad for them. Bad for their children. Bad for the dog--Winnie. It's a strange thing to call the euthanization of an animal, put down. My brother-in-law told me that he's taken the role in the family of being the one who takes the dog in. Winnie was a Jack Russell Terrier, and she had a companion--Buford--who was put down last year. Mike drove Buford for his final drive too. I sympathize with Mike. When we had to give up our dogs several years ago, I had to make the long drive from our home to the shelter.
We had two dogs before Rex: Leinie and Friday. Hearing about the loss of Winnie, makes me feel bad about them, too.
Leinie was mine. I brought her into the relationship. She was with me in Arizona, and was actually the reason my friend, Shay, and I got evicted from our apartment in Tempe. I was a bad pet owner when I first got Leinie. I could barely take care of myself, let alone devote the time and energy needed to care for a pet. Leinie was never properly house trained, and continued to use any of the houses and apartments we lived in as her own personal dog run. Just ask my friends, and former roommates Jav, Kevin, and Dave.
Leinie was a strange dog, with a weird disposition. I never knew exactly what breed she was (they didn't have the genetic testing available for pets like they do today); she was a cross between a Welsh Corgi, a dachshund, and a German Shepherd. She was barley 20 pounds most of her life, and as humans do, got much fatter as she got older. She loved to play ball. Except on her terms. She'd happily run after the ball to retrieve it, but she refused to bring it back directly to you. She'd growl and bark to get your attention, in anticipation of dropping the ball--away from your reach--at some point. She also had another weird trait: she liked to hump my leg in bed. Without fail, I would get into bed and Leinie would hop on. The bed and my leg. It was always a challenge to get her off too. I'd shuffle my leg, moving it in every direction, but she held on tight. I never figured out why she did it.
I did try to get the answer one time on a radio call in show. In the late 90's, Cyndi and I were living in Grayslake, and I was a Jonathon Brandmeier (http://www.wlup.com/Airstaff/johnnyb.aspx) fan. Johnny B had a vet on his show, taking calls from his audience. I called in, asked why my dog humped my leg, and the expert attempted to give some serious answer. And then I hit him with, "One more question...is it a problem if I like it?" That got a good laugh from Johnny.
Cyndi and I adopted Friday, who was a beagle/German Shepherd mix. We got her when she was around two, they assumed. Friday was Cyndi's dog from the start. They formed an instant bond. Friday liked to bark. So much so that when we moved to the condo in Wrigleyville, we had to buy a bark collar to keep her quiet and the neighbors happy. Friday also had issues. She got carsick, she was afraid of flashlights, and she would lunge at other dogs when we were on walks.
Both dogs were high maintenance, but we loved them and did our best to care for them.
When we moved to Philadelphia for a year, my dad was nice enough to take the dogs in with him. Two weeks before we were to arrive back home, my dad called with some bad news. Friday was bleeding and the vet could not figure out what was wrong with her. They thought that she might have digested some rat poisoning, somehow. Our options were to put her down, or pay $2,000 to have a blood transfusion that might cause the bleeding to stop. We opted for the latter. And it worked. It was a tough decision to make, given the fact that we could not assess the situation first hand. It was an expensive incident, but that's what people do for their dogs.
After the kids were born, both Friday and Leinie began acting out. Leinie started going to the bathroom in the family room more often than not, and they both became aggressive toward the kids. It got to the point where we just could not take it anymore. Like I wrote, we were bad pet owners. If something like this happened today, we'd probably take the time to figure out what the issue is and find a resolution. Keeping two young children (four and two) safe, was our #1 priority. This remains our #1 priority, but with "lessons learned" both first hand and from watching "The Dog Whisperer" we are much better pet owners.
I woke up one morning in December, surveyed the family room, and threw up my hands. Cyndi did the same. We looked at each other, and knew we had to do something.
I called Save-a-Pet, which was where we got Friday. They had a rule that if we ever had to give up our adoption, we had to call them. It was several years before, but they honored the mutual agreement we had. And they agreed to take Leinie. We wanted to keep them together.
I was the limo driver of their final ride. Just like Mike, I've accepted that role within our family. It's not any easier on the male "head of household." It's just what we do. It's what I did. I still feel pretty guilty about giving them up. I mean, I had Leinie since she was a puppy. I got her in 1994 and handed her over to some volunteer 10 years later. I didn't have the same attachment to Friday as Cyndi did, but it was still pretty hard.
I assume both dogs are long gone by now. Winnie and Buford are probably playing with them in doggie heaven. At least, that's what I like to think.
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