Doing the right thing truly sucks sometimes...

Less than a year after I wrote this post , I am writing yet another one about something I loved dearly.  Last month I had to put our puppy that had just turned one to sleep.  It was a horrific week of agonizing decision making which ultimately had no other option but the one I chose.  It was the right choice.  It was definitely the hardest choice to choose.  Doing the right thing truly sucks sometimes.  Yet, there are lessons I've learned through this puppy, too.

Above is our sweet Olivia when she was merely two weeks old. She was Ophelia then because of her O on her head which she had all the way to her death.  Thing 1 is the one holding her in this photo and little did we know then she would be ours.  At this time Bailey was still alive although failing quickly.  Ophelia or Little O as we called her all the time, was a survivor who fought back from near death at birth, who was the runt of the litter and who almost died when being spayed.  She had fight in her that's for sure.  Her story was similar to my children's stories of being survivors in situations that aren't always easy to survive.

Olivia was the most beautiful looking puppy. She had the coolest markings.  It made her unique. She was also the favorite of my great friend, Angie who had fostered these pups from the start. She was Thing 1's clear choice when deciding which of the litter to choose.  In the above photo, I was taking pics of the pups and guess who came up to my leg, placed her paw gently there as if to say,  "I'm your girl. I need you and you need me."  I was smitten.

Above is her first picture in her new home....ours. As I look back, I should have known something was a little different with her. One of the first things she did when we were in my back yard was run to the door when a car drove by. Another thing she did was rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time, which is unusual for a puppy.  She woke three times a night regularly until she was eight months old.  Anxiety was her guide and it broke my heart.

There's no question puppies are cute. Olivia was continually changing looks. Some days spotty looking, other days more dark than light.  She was unpredictable, which in the case of looks was fine, but in the case of behavior was getting concerning.  One of the first things I noticed she did differently than any dog I've had before was she would bark at people walking on the sidewalk while riding in my car.  She would also almost go after any drive thru person we would encounter.  Strange, but yet, I believed fixable.  So off to puppy classes we went.

After three rounds of class, a vet who showed much concern about her aggressive behavior from the start and the fact that nobody could enter my home without her losing control of not only her bladder, but also her ability to respond appropriately to a human, I realized there was more to this dog's issues than maybe I could deal with.  I refused once again to listen and decided to try more things like a shock collar and lots of time on the internet scouring what fear aggression was and socialization issues and so on. 

When it came to other dogs, Olivia was amazingly gentle if they were smaller than she was.  By gentle, I mean she played with them without tearing them to pieces like she sounded she would do to dogs who were bigger than she was, except of course, for Jersey, my golden and her sister.  They played constantly, much to Jersey's dismay sometimes.  But Olivia loved a few dogs and this is Diego, our neighbor and her boyfriend. She jumped two fences to get to him daily.  Did I mention her ability to jump like a kangaroo?  

To my family, she loved us. She was sweet, gentle for the most part, quite affectionate as you can see above and she loved me so very much.  I could see in her eyes a trust that came through our trials.  Our nights of wearing the thundershirt and cuddling when it was storming out.  Our nights of getting up three times or more to go outside simply to see what was out there, not really to go potty, but simply because she was worried or anxious about it.  Our classes where she was scared like crazy upon entering Petsmart and would have me leaving with a migraine due to the stress of holding her back and trying to calm her when we first started.  But those eyes told me that I was her person and she trusted me completely, even when the fear that ripped through her body dictated every move she made. 

Because of those eyes that looked at me with trust and love and commitment, my heart was absolutely torn into pieces as I listened to the behaviorist we visited go through Olivia's issues.  Statements like, "She is sharp shy. She can't be changed. This is a genetic brain issue that will always be there. I can take your money and say I will train her, but she can't be trained."  I stared blankly at him.  What?  Her first birthday is in two days and you're basically saying I need to kill my dog for her own good?  He continued, "Think of something you're afraid of and imagine living in fear of that not just at certain times, but rather all day long.  That's Olivia. She has no recovery from fear; a normal dog will bark when someone is at the door, see them come in and stop the behavior. Olivia can't stop. She is afraid when someone is at the door, like a regular dog is, but she doesn't have the brain's ability to say 'it's okay, that's a friendly human' like most dogs do. She isn't living a happy dog life you know.  She is living in constant anxiety and fear. It's not 'if' she bites someone, it's 'when' she bites someone out of fear."

I cried all the way home.  I cried the entire night as I held her close to me and looked into those trusting eyes.  I cried the next morning as I awoke to the painful reality as I watched her outside at 6 AM barking at a person a block away who was walking by while her hair stood on end and her legs ran back and forth in front of the fence.  A second after she finished barking at that person a truck drove by and the hair raised again on her back as she ran back and forth in fear of the sound of the truck. It was at that moment that I knew she really wasn't living the kind of life a dog was supposed to live.  So, I cried. And cried. And cried.

Calling my vet was the worst moment of Olivia's and my life together.  Her birthday was the next day and here I was calling the vet to make an appointment to put her down.  I insist on seeing my vet because she is absolutely awesome, but she wasn't available for three days so I booked it first thing on Friday morning.  It was Tuesday.

So for three days and three nights I looked at these eyes that trusted me, knowing that I would soon be closing them forever.  I felt like a failure.  I felt like there had to be another way.  I just wanted so badly for her to be able to live in my bedroom for the rest of her life where she would be safe and secure and not afraid anymore so she wouldn't hurt anyone else. Again, I know that is no life for a dog meant to run and play and dig holes and eat sticks and jump fences, but I can guarantee you the wait leading up to the actual putting down moment was so much worse than the event.  I was carrying this secret she wasn't able to know because I couldn't dare admit to her the fate that awaited her. So, I cried.  Do you notice a theme here?  Yeah, it sucked.  Yet, it was the right thing.  I had to restate that every single time those eyes looked at me.  It was the right thing, but without a doubt one of THEE hardest things I ever faced in my 47 years on earth. 

Would I choose Olivia again?  In a heartbeat.  Would I spend money I didn't have to try to fix her so she'd work right and people wouldn't be afraid of her and would see the loving dog we saw at home?   Absolutely.  With deep love comes deep hurt.  When you commit to love, there are moments when the pain runs so deeply that the tears that flow seem to have heart juice on them because they come from the deepest part of my body.  I still miss those eyes of hers, but have come to a peace knowing she no longer faces fears, no longer runs from trucks, and can jump every single fence and not get in trouble for it.