*B.E. is Behavioral Euthanasia
We put down our sweet 2.5 year-old Pitbull/Rottweiler mix today after a few level three bites. We had tried everything for a year. I am eight months pregnant and we had nowhere else to turn. I remember our trainer had called him majestic, and that was what he was. I had never met any other dog like him.
I will miss his kisses, his cuddles and how he talked with us all day long. He had special, unique cuddle routines for me and my husband. Even while he he was heavily sedated awaiting the B.E., he was still moving his paw just so and snuggling into my shoulder just so because that was the way he and I had always cuddled. I will not miss his snoring, the fear that he would hurt someone, the legal liability of being his owner, all the ways in which his reactivity limited his life (his toes always hurt because he bit me when I cut his toenails and we could not successfully wear them down through exercise alone) and his fear. He was so brave and so afraid. But, by the last few months of his life, when he would become scared of cars and delivery people, he would cut his barking and frantic lunging short in order to come up to me to get some snuggles. At the end of my life, having given him a small way to self-soothe when he was scared of people will be one of the greatest things I will have achieved.
One of my favorite memories of him happened a few days ago. We live deep in the woods and in the summer have beautiful masses of fireflies at dusk. He was walking about twenty feet ahead and turned back to look at me with his tail wagging. He was surrounded by more blinking fireflies than I had ever seen anywhere in my life. He was always my summer baby and now he is in the fireflies and the rising moon.
He taught me so much and I will emulate him and all dogs during the mourning process. He whined and cried when he missed his pack because his pack was inside him. I am crying, I am not denying that he is inside me and I know that it hurts because, like a dog, I want to be next to the one I love. He let his heart break when we would go away and I am letting my heart break because now he is gone. I know that the last words he heard before he died were words of love from me and my husband. Safe travels, my friend.
Update: Thank you very much to everyone who has responded to this post. Doing the right thing by a dog, or anyone you love, really, takes a lot of heart and soul, so I wish you all good luck through the ups and downs of your journeys, wherever they may go. Sending you vibes
We put down our sweet 2.5 year-old Pitbull/Rottweiler mix today after a few level three bites. We had tried everything for a year. I am eight months pregnant and we had nowhere else to turn. I remember our trainer had called him majestic, and that was what he was. I had never met any other dog like him.
I will miss his kisses, his cuddles and how he talked with us all day long. He had special, unique cuddle routines for me and my husband. Even while he he was heavily sedated awaiting the B.E., he was still moving his paw just so and snuggling into my shoulder just so because that was the way he and I had always cuddled. I will not miss his snoring, the fear that he would hurt someone, the legal liability of being his owner, all the ways in which his reactivity limited his life (his toes always hurt because he bit me when I cut his toenails and we could not successfully wear them down through exercise alone) and his fear. He was so brave and so afraid. But, by the last few months of his life, when he would become scared of cars and delivery people, he would cut his barking and frantic lunging short in order to come up to me to get some snuggles. At the end of my life, having given him a small way to self-soothe when he was scared of people will be one of the greatest things I will have achieved.
One of my favorite memories of him happened a few days ago. We live deep in the woods and in the summer have beautiful masses of fireflies at dusk. He was walking about twenty feet ahead and turned back to look at me with his tail wagging. He was surrounded by more blinking fireflies than I had ever seen anywhere in my life. He was always my summer baby and now he is in the fireflies and the rising moon.
He taught me so much and I will emulate him and all dogs during the mourning process. He whined and cried when he missed his pack because his pack was inside him. I am crying, I am not denying that he is inside me and I know that it hurts because, like a dog, I want to be next to the one I love. He let his heart break when we would go away and I am letting my heart break because now he is gone. I know that the last words he heard before he died were words of love from me and my husband. Safe travels, my friend.
Update: Thank you very much to everyone who has responded to this post. Doing the right thing by a dog, or anyone you love, really, takes a lot of heart and soul, so I wish you all good luck through the ups and downs of your journeys, wherever they may go. Sending you vibes
