And if you feel the need to unfollow me after this, I won’t mind.
I don’t think I could much worse at the present moment.
But anyway,
I’ll start by saying that I am a huge animal lover.
In my lifetime, I’ve had four dogs, three cats, over ninety rabbits (No. I’m not exaggerating.), a mouse, a rat, a guinea pig, and countless fish.
So therefore, it is strongly against my beliefs to hit a pet. People who beat their pets make me question the worth of the human race.
So now I’ll get to the story.
When I was about three, my family adopted a golden retriever puppy. I grew up with him and he was, excuse the cliche, the greatest dog ever. Of all time. My best friend. Not a single flaw. He loved the cat, he never bit anyone, he was always friendly when strangers came over, and when I was small, I used to fall asleep on him and he’d wag his tail whenever I touched him.
But Buddy passed away last December and I was pretty damn distraught.
That day is forever scarred in my mind. He’d been having some problems with sinus infections and he’d finished his meds that the vet gave him and he wasn’t getting better. We kept him around, though, because I just wasn’t ready to let him go. Until he started bleeding. It was bad. He’d go to eat his food and blood would just gush out of his nose and get everywhere. And it was ridiculously sad.
So one day, I said to my mom, “I think it’s time.”
And she called the vet. They said they could take him then and I said “Now?” and Mom said “It’s either now or two days from now.” and I just nodded and got up to say goodbye. I laid down next to him. He glanced at me and started wagging his tail. And then I lost it. I held him and sobbed into his fur without a care of the stench or the blood getting in my hair. Then Mom grabbed the leash and loaded him in the car. He looked so happy. He always loved car rides. I waved and then they were gone.
I went back inside, sat against the door and just let the tears slide silently until Mom got home.
Without him.
And then I basically lost all sense of sanity or control and cried harder than I ever have before.
After that, I forced myself not to think about him, which subconsciously was eating away at me. I refused to let myself acknowledge the guilt that was slowly taking me over. It was a pretty rough time.
And if it hadn’t been for the puppy, I probably wouldn’t have gotten through it.
You see, we knew he was getting old and sick since for awhile. And in October, a friend of our’s dog had puppies. So we adopted one, not to replace Buddy, but to help fill that hole that completely takes you over when your pet dies. So we got Caillou, a little chocolate lab. And he was adorable and sweet and he needed someone to take care of him. So he kept my mind off of my slowly dying best friend for a while. And then when Buddy did go, taking care of Caillou became my distraction.
But Caillou has recently started getting mean. Toward me. And only me.
He jumps on me. And he’s not a cute little 10 pound thing anymore. He’s a big 65 pound beast. And his nails aren’t exactly a back rub when he jumps on you. It hurts. So naturally, we push him away (This works with my other dog, Aiko, whom I haven’t mentioned at all in this story. But she’s sweet. I got her 5 years ago or so and she jumps on me sometimes, but gets off when I tell her to.). Pushing him away worked for a while, but then he started to think of it as a game. So he’ll jumo on me, I’ll push him away, and he’ll come back for more. Then I started holding him down and he tries to bite me. And I’ve dealt with this for a while now, but today I don’t know. Something happened.
Today, I walked downstairs and he was playing with Aiko.
I glanced at him and he ran up and jumped on me. I yelled “No!” and pushed him away. But, of course, he came back again so I got on my knees and held him down. This is all a drill to him now. He started gnawing the back on my hands as I hold him down and I keep telling him “No! Hey! NO! ENOUGH!” And he won’t stop. So I let go and decide I’m just going to go back upstairs and get away from him. But I stand up and he jumps up and grabs my wrist. Now, he’s never done this before. He’s never intentionally bit me when I’m standing up. It’s only been when I’m holding him down. So I pull my wrist away tell him no, which, as we all know now, does nothing. He starts coming at me like a rabid bear trying to kill the person who just shot her cubs. And I’m trying to handle this rationally. I try putting him in his crate, but I can’t grab him without losing a hand, and he keeps biting me and I don’t know when exactly it happened, but I just got this surge of anger and turned around and backhanded him. I wanted him to flinch. I wanted him to think “Oh. Okay. We’re done. This is done. I did something wrong.” But he didn’t. He came at me again. So I smacked him again. Nothing. I wanted this stupid animal to stop hurting me and realize I’m the big dog. I wanted this stupid animal to submit and know when to stop. I wanted this stupid animal dead. And I lost it. I lost all sense of anything or anyone I ever have been and went batshit crazy. I fully intended to watch the light leave his eyes.
And then I came back.
And I realized what I was doing.
I grabbed this beast who was still coming at me and threw him in his crate. Then I walked into the kitchen and fell to the floor shaking and unable to breathe. Here I was, the animal rights speaker of the family, the person who would never hurt a fly, and I just went against anything I’ve ever believed in and intentionally tried to hurt my own dog.
And I don’t know if any of you have really truly been afraid of yourself,
But it is, quite literally, the scariest thing in the world.
I wasn’t scared when my dog was coming at me bearing his teeth and growling.
I wasn’t scared when he was gnawing on my hands.
I don’t remember the emotions I was feeling when I attacked him.
But afterward, when he was in the crate, I was so scared.
I mean, I knew I had control of myself again,
But I also had to live with the fact that I just literally lost all control for a moment.
And my dog is fine. He’s sleeping soundly in his crate now.
But when if I hadn’t realized what I was doing?
What if I hadn’t been able to stop?
What if I had killed him?
What if this happens again?
What if I kill a person?
It’s these thoughts that had me shaking like I was having a seizure.
I couldn’t move due to the shock I was in.
And then as the shock subsided, the tears of shame came.
I hadn’t lost control when some strange dog attacked me,
But when my own dog that I have raised attacked me.
And I don’t usually admit my fears,
But I am scared.
Thanks for the support.
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