Again

So, um. I'm really feeling pretty awful and upset about this, but I want to tell you about it.

Here's what happened with the basset: things got really, really, really bad. She got more and more angry and violent. The cats were terrified of her, our dog was pretty upset by her, and the belligerence got worse. The barking got better, but she started wanting to hurt us. She was being aggressive and moody. Last night J walked by her and she bit him (for no reason) for about the fifth time, and I started to think, I don't know if we know how to handle this dog. Later I went upstairs to do the dishes, put things away, etc. I walked into the living room and she attacked me. She actually ran across the room and attacked me (I know she's short, but she weighs 61 pounds and is strong). I was backed into a corner, and I don't know exactly what happened but I covered my face with my arms and kicked at her repeatedly to get her away while screaming my husband's name over and over. It was very surreal, very scary. It felt foggy and slow-motion. Kick, scream, kick, scream. I was wearing baggy pants, or my legs would have been all bitten up, and she only got a good enough grip on the arm that was covering my face to bruise it a little bit. It felt like hours (when it was only seconds) before J got upstairs and somehow dragged her into her crate. I cried for a long time. No skin was actually broken, but she had been leaping at my face, snarling and biting and grabbing at my clothes and foaming. I know enough about dogs to know when they are serious, and if she hadn't been such a weird squat breed (and my reflexive kicking/screaming hadn't set in) she probably would have hurt me. On a side note, have you guys had those nightmares where something horrible is happening and you can't scream? And ever had a fear that, if you ever needed to, you wouldn't be able to scream? I have, but I was wrong. I shrieked my husband's name over and over so loudly I'm surprised no one called the cops. My sister and her boyfriend described the noises from the dog as "attacking, horrible biting and chewing sounds" and they were on a different floor of the house.

It was sort of insane, is what I am trying to explain.

I've had dogs chase me before, and I remember when I was little having experiences with mean dogs. I've even been bitten by dogs before (never badly, but I have been bitten). But this was the first time I ever, ever, ever have felt afraid around a dog. Ever. J and I talked a lot about it, and I cried a ton, but we ultimately decided that we could not provide the kind of environment she needed. The dog shelter woman had told me that a) if I couldn't handle the dog, no one could and b) to please please please bring her back if it doesn't work and I won't ask questions. So that probably should have been a warning. But we? We love dogs. And we gave her a lot of chances after the first bite. It wasn't fair to her, or to us, or to our other pets.

This morning, we soberly got up and took her back to the shelter in pouring rain. J was so nice to me. We felt awful about bringing her back, you know? I can't even express it. Completely and totally awful. To my relief, the shelter woman was so. nice. And so horrified. I kept apologizing: we felt like complete dog owner failures. I mean, it took an all out attack to take her back, it took a lot of bites. But we knew that the dog needed a LOT of time, and an environment that we couldn't provide. I feel that I can handle pretty much anything an animal will throw at me, but not attacking. Not fear. Just...not fear, you know? The shelter woman has been a dog trainer for 25 years. She told us, after I took the basset home, that she had told herself if we had to bring her back, she would adopt the dog herself. She said she knew if we couldn't handle Fred, Fred needed to live there with her (I'm pretty sure she would throw herself into the mouths of bears and come out unscathed). So Fred will live with the shelter woman forever, in a home where she will learn to not be that way. That is where, I believe, Fred needs to be and wants to be. I felt like such a total fool, and such a failure. I believe in providing forever homes. I believe dogs are lifetime commitments, and I felt like I was giving up way too easily. I also felt like an asshole, because I feel I ruined my sister's visit by having to deal with a horrible, horrible situation the whole time. I felt like I let everyone down, especially Fred.

But again, the shelter woman was amazingly nice and understanding. She sent us home with another dog, which I had, um, mixed feelings about. After the last two incidents, I wasn't sure I wanted another dog anymore. But something that J said to her clicked, and she ran through the rain to bring out a dog that she had just gotten in last night. As soon as I saw him, I felt so relieved, because, hey, you know what? He acts just like Monk. He's a Great Pyrenees/Lab mix, so he's similar to Monk in size. He's young and goofy and needs a bit of training, but he ignores cats and love love loves to play and be active. She told us to try him out for a few days, see what we think. She also said we could swap out as many dogs as we want, to make sure we get a dog that fits us.

The new guy and Monk have been playing together (this is why we wanted another dog, a playmate for Monk) a ton, and sleeping, and acting like happy idiots. He's active, but gentle, and he's not dumb. It's sort of like he's always been here, he slipped into place with Monk so naturally, and we may have finally found our guy. I still feel terrible about the hound, but I think she's now where she is supposed to be, and the new guy is where he is supposed to be.

Also, my sister came! I love my sister. I cooked for her. That is how much I love her. I hope they had fun.

Photos?

This is my sister and her man, looking energetic:
















This is me hugging Monk:






















This is J, trying to eat Monk:

















This is how I look when I'm cooking:






















Maybe you wanted to see the new dog? Or maybe you don't. I wouldn't blame you, after the incident with the blue heeler and then the vicious basset. But, you can see this guy and tell me what you think. Meet Cab:






















Cab looks happy, right? Maybe we should see how Monk feels about Cab:

















They're pretty much in love with each other.

I still feel bad. It's sort of weird, maybe, but I was nervous about writing about this. Writing about taking Fred back, writing about how she attacked us and we gave up after only three days. You all left such nice comments, and I felt like you were rooting for us. I didn't want you to think I was one of those give-up-easily people, because I love all animals. You know I do. I even felt shitty about kicking her away from me when she was attacking me. I felt shitty that I didn't know what to do to help her. I felt bad that I didn't know how to provide what she needed. This morning, as we were driving to the shelter, even after she had bitten both of us and proved herself to be in serious need of professional help, I was still wondering if I should turn the car around and try for a few more days. I still thought we should try.

I'm crazy in a lot of ways. But I think everything worked out, and I think the right companion finally came along:


















Love,
black sheeped