Well, a day I have been dreading somewhere in the back of my mind has come. Today Larry called me and told me Rocco attacked another dog while they were out fishing. This will be his third and final offense, and he will have to be put down. I have been sneaking off to cry secretly all evening. I don't want to talk about it, because I can't even bear to say it out loud, so I am hiding my grief.
I know he hasn't even been my dog for over a year, since Julie said she didn't want to have any dogs around Dominic so Larry agreed to let him live with him. Despite the time apart, I still love him and can't quite grasp the fact that yes, he is going to die.
He was so loving towards me, and most other people, and for the first couple years of his life he was so happy-go-lucky, I would take him to dog parks with no fear of him fighting. He loved other dogs, and was perfectly good playing with tiny dogs even... but all that has changed (as it often does around the age of two years old with these bully breeds they say) and now he's totally dog-aggressive, and being a pit or pit-mix, the tolerance level is close to zero and so they won't even try to adopt him out. Understandable really, since he would need special training and still may never be socialized. But God!
I contemplate if keeping him in a small kennel is less humane than putting him to sleep, and I think not. He loves to run and swim and play freely, he would be a sad old dog if he never got to do those things again. I have to believe the better thing for him is to be put down. God, but it tears me up inside knowing.
I have to go to my background clearance interview tomorrow, get finger-printed etc... and then Amanda and Danya are arriving the following day. I had better deal with these emotions somehow so I am not a totally terrible hostess. I'm going to go cry some more.
