I’m telling the story here, in order to reach many family members (and any interested friends) at one time. It’s too tiring to have to go into it, over and over.
We owned a dog for a week. We kept it a secret from those family members who are soon coming for a visit, so that you’d be surprised upon arrival. A certain surprise, that Steve and Colleen had finally caved in to the request to get a dog!
We chose her from the county shelter. It seemed a good match from the beginning. She was sweet, quiet if there weren’t other dogs barking, and got along well with all the kids. Even Clare seemed fine with her.
We called her Rosie, after Rosie Cotton, the hobbit. The kids had planned so many names from Lord of the Rings, but they were all male names. Of course, we ended up with a female dog. She was about a year old, a mix of German Shepherd and Chow. She had been found abandoned in the bark park near the shelter, so no one knew anything about her history. I think she must have lived around people, because the first time she heard Steve clinking silverware, she got very excited.
The first few days went fine for 4/5 of the children. Clare decided she didn’t like the dog, after all. In various ways, her behavior reverted to that of a child half her age. It was exhausting. It had me ready to send the dog packing, the first 48 hours or so. Additionally, it was hard to work the dog’s schedule into our own. Her daily health needs were bewildering. You see, I took her to the vet, the day after we got her. She had two different types of worms, she had fleas, and she had a fungal infection on her head. In my entire lifetime, I don’t think I’ve taken as much medication as that dog needed. One other thing I didn’t like was her doggie smell. Since she had just had her surgery, we couldn’t bathe her until the incision was healed. Ick.
But, over the weekend, things took a turn for the better. We grew accustomed to having to meet a dog’s needs. Some of her medications were no longer needed. She was getting used to us, we could tell: she was becoming more playful, more energetic, and more involved in things. She was a quick learner. Toileting problems did exist, but I hoped that it wouldn’t be long before that was solved because she seemed to be a quick learner. She knew “sit,” most of the time. She (almost) mastered “Rosie, come.” She knew to keep off the sofa and loveseat. We were working on “lie down.”
Then, on Monday, Clare became so comfortable that she was able to play in the same room with Rosie. She didn’t play with the dog, but she was able to relax in the same room. That was the day that Rosie’s personality came out, in good ways and bad. She was the most playful with me that she’d ever been, but she decided she didn’t like Clare. It started out with a growl. Clare didn’t know what it meant and thought it was funny. Emily and I tested the dog a few times, to see if she was really growling at Clare. She was. And then it went from a growl to a baring of the teeth. We put her in her kennel. Emily went online right away, to see if this is something that can be cured. Clare hadn’t done anything to provoke the ill feelings, other than be in the same room with Rosie. We learned that it might have been the Chow in her. Apparently, they can begin to show their aggressive tendencies when they’re about 15 to 24 months of age. That might have been Rosie’s age. There were some gruesome stories, but I’ll spare the readers of this blog. If you’re curious, you can read plenty online about aggressive dogs, especially Chows and even Chow mixes.
When Steve came home, he said that was that. He’d had multiple experiences as a child, being bitten by dogs, only once was it provoked. He said we weren’t qualified to deal with training an aggressive dog. I reluctantly agreed. Emily, who saw the fangs lifted at her sister, was the child most easily persuaded that returning the dog was the best course of action.
The next morning, Rosie expanded her aggressive feelings to include Lydia. She never showed her fangs at Lydia, but she growled when Lydia came too close. I’m not sure why she didn’t show this less-than-pleasant side of her personality when she was flea-bitten, wormy, and recovering from surgery. No, it only surfaced when she was feeling more herself and settling into her new home.
It was hard, having to take her back to the shelter. Emily and I did it together. The woman was very sympathetic and said that you don’t want to mix an aggressive dog with young children. But I noticed that she had filled out on the paperwork, “dog barks at children.” I set her straight that it was more serious than that, as I wouldn’t return a dog for barking. She became alarmed at once, furiously typing information into the computer, when I mentioned “baring teeth.” I started to get upset, assuring her that she was fine for the adults and older children in the house. She said that doesn’t really matter, that special care needs to be taken with a dog that has done that without provocation. I think she knew that I was upset, as she made a trip away from the desk to the dog-drop-off area to tell me that they’d do their best to see if some rescue organization would be willing to take her. But I couldn’t help feeling that I’d sent the dog to her end.
So, that’s how the story ends. There is a happy element, in that Clare has turned back into the Clare we know. The very day that Rosie left, Clare was more her old self. I know she would have eventually adjusted to life with a pet dog. But, if one must find a silver lining in the cloud hanging over our pet dog fiasco, this certainly counts as that lining!
