What I thought was going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship with Sonny has not turned out that way.
Everything was going fine, the dogs were getting along and the growling had stopped. Sonny had a new house and actually had a spring in his step. I had even taken to letting him in the house for a few hours at night as long as he stayed on a blanket near the door. He seemed happy.
Saturday night, I fed him at his usual time and as I turned to walk back in the house, he attacked me. Notice, I chose the word attack. He didn’t just bite me and leave it at that. He got a hold of my arm and wouldn’t let go. When I finally got my arm out of his mouth to run away, he continued to come at me and even managed to gouge a hole in my Uggs and my foot. Darn it, I love those boots.
Luckily, Art was home and heard me screaming bloody murder. He got the dog away from me and I was able to get into the house and safety.
There was a lot of blood, hours worth of tears, and a decision to be made. I am typing this with one hand. My hand and arm are so swollen and cut up that I can’t even take off my own shirt. I am terrified of going into my own backyard and I won’t let Murphy out there with him either. (not that I don’t think that MG can take him, I just don’t want to see it happen or have to separate them)
Sonny has lived a good life, he has tumors that can’t be operated on because of his age, and he hobbles around in pain often. I think that it is his time. We did our best, but I am worried about the safety of others and he is obviously in pain and not happy.
I hope that Art’s daughters and others will forgive us for this decision.
I will be doing a lot of lurking for the next few days until I can type properly. So please know that I am visiting you and reading, just a bit quiet:)
