Personal Essays

“IS YOUR DOG FREE?” “ i think i want to hav ur dog.” “ We want dog for our two year old.” Taz mail. It is the first thing I see every day. It is full of people who don’t have any idea what they are doing. Like me. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. Nobody wants him or nobody is good enough for him. Maybe both.

For months after Taz came back to us, I struggled to find anyone who appeared to be a good home for Taz. I would try to find the right way, the right time, to say “Oh by the way, he might be aggressive, or he might be okay.” No matter how it was said, it ended the conversation. Who takes those sorts of chances? Why are we taking that chance?

It seemed ridiculous, this idea that this dog was aggressive but never showed it when we were around. He was all smiles with us. But could we entirely discount the experiences of his last adopter? There had to be something to it. Until we could figure out what triggered his aggression, we had no hope of finding a home that would take a chance on Tazzy.

It happened when we were least expecting it, over a month after he came back to us. He was asking for belly rubs and then suddenly he was growling, lips pulled back in a snarl. The belly rubs stopped, and immediately he was nice again, asking for more love. Lather, rinse, repeat. This dog was crazy. Or….

He liked to chase cars, he caught one once, hit him on his left side. His hip. That day, I reached down and patted his hip. Snarl. I patted his head. Love. Hip. Snarl. Head. Love. Breakthrough.