Bear showed up at the farm 9 years ago as a sickly puppy, and kinda hung around and became ours by default. He was always free, would not stand to be tied, and never wanted to come in the house.
There was a wild dog problem on the farm, and he’d kill them when they intruded in a no-nonsense fashion. He’d bark at strangers, and was good with kids and never bit anybody.
He was probably half husky and half german shepherd.
I loved that dog, but I never really liked him, if you can understand such a thing. He was fawningly obsequious when the occasion suited him, but also willfully disobedient when that suited him. He would accept any punishment, and then just do what he wanted to do anyway. You couldn’t trust him.
He was good with kids, but at picnics he would steal hot dogs from little kids like some gentle bully.
“Just put the hotdog down and walk away.” he’d say.
He was hairy and stinky and had bad breathe. If he killed a groundhog he’d usually let it season for a few days before eating it.
Sometimes he’d lay the groundhog out on the porch and reenact the fight for us.
When he talked, he sounded like Joe Pesci.
“Hey, you see that motherfucker? He was right there in our field, can you beleive that? I said “You talking to me, Motherfucker? Are you… Talking… To me?” and then I ripped his fucking leg off, just like this!”
Grrrrrr! Chomp!
And then he’d rip the other leg off the gopher to illustrate his point, and maybe disembowl it for show.
He’d fight them by barking at their face. He’d get really close and just keep barking at them, while they chattered their teeth at him. The goal was to scare them into turning around and running, at which point he’d leap on them, and crush their backs right below their neck.
This is the way he dealt with wild dogs, as well. He always gave the horses a hard time, nipping at their heels. He seemed to be pissed that they were bigger than him.
Though he wasn’t a very big dog, he was a lot bigger than he looked. He had so much hair, he’d float in the pond, and sleep in the middle of the yard during blizzards. I’d shave him in the summer. In fact, I just did so on Monday.
My little girl would ride him and lead him around.
He was a good farm dog.
But, we just moved off the farm, and he wasn’t making the transition well.
He seemed intent and focussed on murdering the neighbor’s nice yellow lab.
The fence wasn’t holding him. He was burrowing under it. We had to keep him tied, or in a crate, or distracted the whole time.
He barked and howled ceaselessly all night. We got a barking collar and that worked for one night, and then he just kept barking and crying and working himself into a frenzy, so I had to take the collar off.
For the first time he threatened me. We put him on medication which had absolutely no effect. He was angry, confused and depressed and getting worse.
We talked to the vet about putting him down, and made the appointment.
I came home to get the dog, and told my wife I couldn’t d it. He was acting like himself again, and my daughter was leading him around.
So I called and cancelled and asked if we could try another medication and give him some more time. They said to bring him in.
The vet told me frankly that he didn’t see the situation improving in a couple of days, weeks, or months. We could keep him permanently tranquilized and confined to a kennel, and see what happened.
He said he’d seen this before and knew where it was going. Bear considered himself Alpha. Not alpha male, Alpha. He thought he was in charge of me, my wife, everybody and would not accept a subordinate position. On the farm this worked out ok, but in a more neighborly area with other people and dogs, and not being completely loose, he was confused frightened and unhappy and all his dominant instincts were coming forward.
It was only a matter of time until he got loose and killed the neighbor’s dog.
Then the vet told me something else. He said, that he was going to get frustrated at not being able to get at that other dog, and look to the next target. The next target wasn’t my border collie. My border collie had already recognized Bear’s alphaness. The next target was me, or more likely my daughter.
I signed the consent form, and it felt like murder. I stayed with him while they shaved his paw and told him he was a good boy. The nurse held his head, and I scratched his ears, and they gave him a full 8cc of barbituate which they calculated would drop a dog of 75 pounds (which Bear was,) like a brick.
They gave him the shot, and just like Bear always was, it was the hard way every time. He fought it hard, but he was still wagging his tail and looking to me for help with trusting eyes as they hit him with another 20ccs and finally he succumbed to the inevitable.
I took him home and buried him beneath a tree as I broke down (as I’m doing now, ) and told him how sorry I was, though he was long beyond hearing. I took him out of the black bag they put him, and gave him a nice grave.
That’s how I killed what has been a true member of my family for the last ten years, a creature that trusted me, tried his best to protect me, and loved me as only a dog can.
That’s what I did to this fine being.
