Because if he doesn’t, he’s getting an all-expenses-paid trip to Raleigh. Well, his head is, anyway.
I don’t care if the little fucker’s been vaccinated for rabies, and neither does the state. If he dies in the next 10 days, we’re chopping off his crumbsnatching little head.
See, he bit the everlovin’ fuck out of me last night. It took him several tries and a few procedures, but he finally managed to get one of us. I’m not talking about a quick snap, either; once he managed to get hold of me, he held on till I literally shook him loose. He damaged my thumb badly enough that I went to the ER, even though my husband’s a doctor and can and does treat all sorts of stuff for me. We can’t tell just yet whether I have permanent nerve damage or not.
So, you see, if he doesn’t make it or you guys decide to euthanize him, he’s taking a fun-filled trip to the state lab. It’s state law, I’m afraid. Not a thing any of us can do about it.
When you get your next dog, though, you might want to actually socialize it. I know that exposing your dog to strangers once in a while is a really radical concept, but you might want to try it. It might keep the next one from turning into a nasty little landshark who lunges for people’s throats with no provocation. I don’t care how painful or nervous he is, there’s no excuse for going after someone just for unlatching his kennel door.
All that leaping and lunging he was doing was not only dangerous to us, it was incredibly bad for him. If you have severe enough injuries to need a chest tube, you need to be lying still and concentrating on, I don’t know, maybe NOT throwing yourself into respiratory distress. Judging by the amount of blood on his bandages when we finally got him out of there, he hadn’t been doing his internal injuries a bit of good.
Your dog is going to stress himself into a heart attack and die over simple shit like making sure he’s not hypothermic. And frankly, I can’t say that I’ll be the least bit sorry when he goes.