I Don’t Understand

     I don’t understand. I don’t understand some people. Let me explain.

    On the 8th of this month, a Saturday no different than any other, my granddaughter woke us up early as she always does. We got up to slowly start the day. It should have been a lazy day. A trip to Starbucks maybe? The biggest thing on the to-do list.

    This is not how our Saturday was apparently meant to be. No, this particular Saturday was to be filled with fear, pain, sadness and a general feeling of “What the fuck just happen?”. It also left residual worries.

    I got up and slipped my yard shoes on quick so I could take my dog outside for him to do his morning business. I always look to the south side of the yard before opening the slider because the neighbor’s cat is suicidal and likes to sit in my backyard and taunt my dog. He’s either suicidal or just an asshole, I’m not sure, maybe a bit of both. Anyway, the coast was clear so out we went. 

    Out we went right to the shocking realization that there was a stray dog in my backyard. A dog in my fully fenced backyard. I hesitated for a second because I truly couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My dog hesitated for that same second then approached the other dog. Then faster than it takes to blink, the fight was on. My dog, a 65lb male Belgian Malinois and a 50-60lb pitbull were fighting with a fierceness the likes of which you would see on Wild Kingdom.

    My dog protecting his territory, himself and I have no doubt in his mind, me as well. He is very protective and possessive of me. The other dog protecting himself and God only knows what else goes through the mind of an animal. Especially one in unfamiliar territory.

    I know better than to get in between fighting dogs. I did it once and got three weeks off work with a broken thumb from the bite that went all the way through. Don’t do this okay? It hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.

    Not having anything to use to try and separate them, I yelled to my mother to get her gun. It was a horrible thing to have to say but I am going to protect my dog and I’m also not going to let either dog suffer if the injuries are too great to be treated.

   It took several minutes for the dogs to get to a place where taking a shot would even be thought of let alone actually doing. Then my mom had to make sure she didn’t hit my dog. Eventually, they worked themselves into a corner between the house and the gate. My mom wanted me to open the gate but then both dogs would have been loose and at that point, I have no doubt my dog would have chased the other dog to the far reaches of hell and back. Did I mention I am going to protect my dog?

   My mother was finally able to shoot. Unfortunately, in her attempt to not hit my dog, she had to shoot more than once. She did it as quickly as she could, even as all of this was happening she said she had to take that last shot because the dog would suffer otherwise. 

    Take the shot. No more pain. No more fear. No more fighting.

    I’m not sure how long it took me to get my dog to focus on me, to get him in the house and in his crate. I don’t think it was too long but in that time, my mother realized as she was walking back to the house that she was injured. She has a nasty flap wound on the bottom of her right foot. I hate flap wounds, they are so freaking gross to look at. She walked into the house, grabbed the phone, went back outside, sat down and called 911. I took over the call so she could rest. We had Deputies, Fire, Ambulance, and Animal Control at our house in a matter of minutes (and we live out of city limits).

    My mom got an ambulance ride to the emergency room for what stitches could be put into a flap wound. I cleaned up blood from my living room all the way out to the corner of the house where the fight ended. It was only then, after all that, I was able to check on my dog.

    I checked him and saw multiple wounds on his face. I called our Vet and they took him in as an emergency patient ($100 extra just to walk in the door) and I left him in their capable hands while I went to mom.

   It should be noted that my granddaughter is 6 years old. She is 6 years old and she stood at the sliding glass door, inside thank God, and watched almost this entire event unfold. The only thing she did not see was the shooting because we were on the other side of the house. Thank God for small favors. She was still crying and traumatized. Fortunately, she has a classmate who lives across the street and not only were they home, but they took her in for the better part of the day so I could take care of getting my mother and my dog to and from the ER and the Vet, pick up medications, and get them both settled in before I brought her back to the house.

  I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them. I would have done what ever I needed to but that’s not the point. It was much easier to take care of everything knowing she was safely distracted at her friend’s house. They fed her, they cared for her, they kept her busy. I will alway be grateful for them no matter where our kids end up.

    Going back to my opening statement, I don’t understand. I don’t understand not only how the dog got into my backyard but why was he running around in the first place? Why did he not have a collar and tags? Was he dumped in my yard? That seems to be the popular theory. Who would do that? What the fuck is wrong with people? Why didn’t I see him? He would still be alive if I could have seen him on the other side of the chimney.

    We will probably never know who owned the dog but whoever they are, I hate them. They are terrible people that I pray have no other animals. They killed their dog. I hope they rot in hell.

    I don’t blame the dog. I don’t hate pitbulls nor is this writing in any way against pitbulls. I happen to be quite fond of the blue nose variety. They are affectionate, smart, and so, so silly. 

    No, I don’t blame the dog, I shed tears for the dog because of the horrible way it had to die just as I shed tears for my dog when I was told he was going to be okay and I wasn’t going to have to say goodbye to him. 

   I’m not the most physically affectionate person but when my mother was released from the ER, I hugged her and cried. I said I was sorry and thanked her too for saving my dog. 

    My granddaughter still brings it up occasionally but she is getting better and we are trying to put it all in the past. It is a little difficult with my dog running around looking like Two-Face from Batman. One side of his face is perfect the other has shave spots and wounds. He’s pitiful looking I tell you.

    Everyone is healing slowly but surely. I check both sides of the yard now before we go outside. 

  

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