I learned something new over the past several days: dog bites hurt.
How did I learn this? My damn dog bit me!
More than once.
There are a lot of things that I accept from having a dog, including peeing in the house, digging in the yard, lots of dirt on the floor, etc. What I don’t accept is my own dog biting me, of being afraid of my dog.
Ray, that little cutie patootie, had aggression issues, specifically with me. While he never reacted badly with Matt, on more than one occasion, I only had to move towards him to send him into attack mode.
|Ray, the little shit that bit me|
He would charge across the room at me, like a lion hunting a wildebeest. And like a lion, he aimed for the knees in an attempt to bring me down. I hate to think what would have happened had he succeeded….
I am, of course, falling back on humor to defend against the fact that my heart is broken by the way that events have played out. Because he stayed on such high alert with me, and I stayed on such high alert with him, it became very evident that this was not the right home for him. And since he and Reynolds were a pair, we made the choice to return them both to the shelter (which was in the contract that we signed when we adopted them, that if there were any problems, we would return them to the shelter rather than give them away).
They were ecstatic to return to the shelter, which has become their home. One of the volunteers at the shelter has basically adopted them herself, so we know that they are well loved and taken care of. We are very sad that things did not work out with them, but my knees and my nerves are thankful that they are not under attack every day.
I miss the little guys.