Out With A Bang

About 2 months ago we added a dog to our home. She was pound bound when her previous owners were forced to suddenly move. We, and by we I mean I, thought that she might do well in our home. Dozer has needed a playful companion and we were hopeful that Lucy would be just what he needed. We were wrong.

While I may have lofty ideas and expectations, I am very pragmatic when it comes to an animal blending into our family. You either conform or find new digs. I have limited time to train a pup and no patience to deal with the neuroses of a non human creature. If they prove to be gentle and sport some redeeming qualities, there’s a bit more wiggle room. This is where Lucy fell.

Lucy would slide on her belly up next to the baby to lick and love on him. He in turn would pick at her shiny eyes and pull her long velvety ears, she seem to relish this baby abuse. However, Lucy would also fight with Dozer. At first it was just posturing as one would expect. Dogs need to work out the pecking order and I get that, we operate on pack mentality around here, our dogs are much happier for it. Lately though, instead of settling down, things were heating up.

Lucy started attacking Dozer out of the blue in an attempt to dethrone him from his leader of the dogs status. This was not ok with me. Couple this with her sudden transformation into spazz dog and we had a mess on our hands.

I did my best to work on the spazzy side of things while hoping the dogs would get their stuff worked out- she resisted me at every step. Things back slid so badly that she started tackling Mira and knocking her on her butt every time she came home from school. I tried crating her whenever I expected someone to come home or ring the bell… disastrous. She had a full on panic attack that involved chewing the metal bars and bloodying her face. In most other homes Lucy would have been out the door inside of two weeks. We (I) persisted, though, hoping that the jewel of a dog I could see when she was with the baby would suddenly emerge and settle in. Her final attack on Dozer wiped out all hope of that. I can NOT have fighting dogs around my precious children. She has officially been rehomed.

Not to go out like a lamb, Lucy spazzed while I leashed her up. Unbeknown to me, she stepped squarely into a paint can that had only been sealed with Glad Press and Seal. She then tore like a bat out of hell into my car, prancing on every surface. Then, she jumped all over my purse and rolled around on my feet once I was in the car. At this point, I still had no clue about the paint and drove clutching at the steering wheel, praying to make it across town without dying in a fiery wreck due to the dog that was now howling and rebounded off of every surface in my minivan.

Upon exiting the car I discovered the cream colored paint all over my Birkenstock’s… and my purse.. any my seat.. and the passenger seat.. and my baby’s car seat… and the matching princess booster seats.. Ev.Ry.Where. I don’t think I can adequately describe the relief I felt when I handed Lucy over.

We (I) also admitted that we can’t seem to make the three dog matrix work and will not be rescuing any more pound bound pups until we are down at least one dog, and perhaps never again.. I hate to say it but the time Lucy spent in my home has broken my aiding animals in trouble spirit.