Saying Good-Bye to Grace

Last updated on: May 28, 2015 at 12:54 pm by Rebecca Frech

Saying Good-Bye to Grace 2015-05-28T12:54:25-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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I haven’t made a secret of the fact that I’ve been wanting a dog. I’ve blogged about it, dreamed about it, and gazed longingly at pictures of sweet faces online. You see, once upon a time, I had an amazing black German Shepherd who was my dog in ways no other pet I’ve ever had was mine. There’s just a magic in having a dog that I’ve been missing for a while.

My husband would shake his head and tell me that we already have a dog, which actually meant that he has a dog and she put up with the rest of us because he lives with us. Grace isn’t a bad dog. We’ve had her for almost 10 years now, through three moves and a litter of puppies. She doesn’t like to play or cuddle up with any people but him, mostly she likes to go on walks and sleeping the way old dogs do. She’s a big dog in a small body, a boxer beagle mix who doesn’t know she’s runty. Her lethargy disappears when other dogs come to our house for a visit, or my eldest daughter brings her cat home from college and there’s a kitty to chase. Her 12-year-old self becomes young and bouncy whenever she’s in hot pursuit.

Which is why I wasn’t worried on Saturday when two of the boys went with me to meet a dog at the rescue shelter. He’s a beautiful black Shepherd (he looks very much like the dog I loved way back when) who somehow got lost and ended up at the pound. Already trained, house broken, and good with children; we were excited to bring him home. He’s sweetness and patience with the kids, and at two years old he still has enough puppy energy to love playing. We all adored Gus from the moment he bounded through the door…all of us except Grace.

She hated him from the moment she first laid eyes on him, which is not her usual response to new animals in the house. We anticipated sniffing, chasing, and then napping in their respective corners. What happened instead was overtures of friendship from him,bared teeth and growling from her.

After a couple nights of her ignoring his existence, she attacked him yesterday. No warning. Not a growl or even laid back ears. She launched herself at this intruder. She threw herself at him and wouldn’t stop coming. While he tried to evade and hide behind me, she grabbed the loose skin of his neck and held on….until he bit her on her side to make her turn loose. And then I grabbed her. She had a puncture wound on her back and a scrape on her side, and left a streak of blood on my t-shirt before she wriggled out of my arms and made a mad dash for the gate. She hit the old wood with all kids of force and knocked it down. We didn’t see her again until late yesterday afternoon, one of our neighbors brought her home. That’s when we knew that she was hurt… and she’s really hurt. She’s spent almost 18 hours straight in her crate, refusing to come out even for my husband. She is completely not interested in eating or drinking. She even turned down cheese, y’all. That’s how we know it’s serious.

We are all horrified that my husband’s laid back dog could have become so vicious. The four youngest children witnessed the whole violent ordeal. They don’t understand how the dog who sleeps all the time could suddenly become a whirlwind of teeth and fury.

I’m taking her to the vet this afternoon, once I figure out how to get her into the car without hurting her worse. I don’t know what he’ll be able to do to help her. She’s 12 years old, I don’t care how young she thinks she is. I’m fairly certain that we’ll be saying good-bye today. Between her injuries and her Jekyll and Hyde personality switch, I don’t see that we have many options.

My husband is losing his buddy, and I’m feeling incredibly guilty for that. I wanted a buddy to go running with, and he seemed so perfect for us. If I had known that bringing him home would have led to this awful dogfight and her ultimate death, I’d have never gone to the shelter last weekend. He’d have gone home with a different family, and she’d be spending her golden years chasing squirrels and laying in the sun. She may not have been my girl, but she deserved a better end than this. I can’t take it back and make it all better, and I so very much wish that I could.

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