A 3 Time Felon and my friend...
We are so sad...bereft. Yet, we move on in life. If you don't think dogs have souls, or are family members, you had best leave this post here. Santana, our 12 year old German Shepherd that we rescued when he was one, died at home on July 28th. He was hospiced by our youngest daughter, who stayed with him as he grew weak. While he tried to stay alive just one more day, that heart of his just quit. We missed him by about 18 hours.
When a big dog's heart starts to quit, it is fast, faster than I admitted to myself that it would go. We knew he was not as strong as he'd been, nor was he as agile. His back end was a bit tough for him to raise up these past few months. While he continued to be playful with the puppydog (2 year old Jupiter - boxer mix) he sometimes just plopped down in the midst of the action. He didn't huff and puff until a week ago last Friday.
At the vet's for his kennel shots (the plan was for the pups to be kenneled with a wonderful woman - just for a few days so our youngest could come to vacay with us for 3 days), the kid asked the vet about the huff and puff incident. She listened to his heart, and he gave her the answer...a murmer and likely heart disease. No shots that day, but lasiks and an antiemitic to keep him going for a little while. He didn't have long, she said in a roundabout way...as long as he accepted the drugs he'd have a little longer.
He really tried to take the peanut butter laden pills that first day. The second day, not so much. No eating, just some sips of water. He still made it outside for a pee, but then quickly laid down again in the house. The third day he had made his decision - no pills, no food. Our daughter swears he did his best to keep going, but it was evident by Friday afternoon that his last hurrah was in progress.
We got the call, and sadness was just there, you know? Arrangements were made for his cremation at the really expensive emergency vet - what would you do? We will get a call at some point to pick his urn up.
OK, so that is his death. What about his life? This big lug was rescued originally from a house in Harlem, NYC that was burned out. He was leashed to the porch. By the time he woke up the next day, his junk was gone. A few days later, he was shipped to the ASPCA in Monroe...yeah, to Fred. Now, Fred doesn't have the best reputation and has been prosecuted a few times for issues with dogs in his care, but he had an open house that day.
We had lost our Bama (a gorgeous small shepherd mix that was beloved by all) after 16 years the year before, and our whole family minus one was out that Saturday looking to rescue a dog. This included our kids, us, and my Mom. Dad was working. We ended up in Monroe, and I saw a kid that I knew who was volunteering for Fred. I asked him if any bigger dogs had come in during the past week and he said to wait outside. We gathered outside the main house, and this young man came out with our Santana. We knew right away he was ours, and he knew it too.
In the kitchen, when he came in with us, our cat, Ozzy was looking at him with that "WTF are you doing here?" look. Santana proceeded to take his first pooh with us, in the middle of the kitchen floor. Yes, the cat scared the shit out of him.
He was the best behaved dog after that, with us, and in the house. He had a sweet soul for his family, and those his family allowed into the house. We taught him "EATING" so he would leave the kitchen or area where we were eating. He barked like a crazy dog at any noise at the door, as a good big dog should, saving us from the mail carrier, the UPS delivery person and many solicitors over the years. We had to keep him away from the delivery people, the plumbers, phone folks. As he got older, he learned to bark at us for a pee or pooh. That was when he wasn't as "regular" as he'd been most of his life.
Outside, he was Mr. Protective, often to a fault (hence the felon title). My Mom walked him one day, unbeknownst to the other adults in the house, and he nipped a boy who walked too close to her. We didn't find out about that till we saw it in the paper. We fessed up, and he had to do time in a kennel in quarantine (number 1). After hearing about why Mom didn't say anything, the police officers were kind enough to keep her out of it. He came home, none the worse for the wear. The boy wasn't hurt other than a nip on the leg (band aid from what we heard - no, they didn't need anything from us). Training became a bit more of a priority...and we began the "No Mom Left Alone" rule.
Several years later, he nipped at a woman from down the street who was walking her Greyhound in front of the house. Now, I love dogs, and greyhounds too, but people with greyhounds are often quite pretentious about them. The woman's boyfriend got really mad that our mixed Shepherd would have the nerve to bark at the GREYHOUND as the GREYHOUND had a horrible life before the GREYHOUND was lucky enough to be adopted by them. He did 2 weeks for that nip, and the loss of the GREYHOUND's nail on the sidewalk. I'll take the blame for that - it was cold and he was in the backyard for a quick pee...quick enough so he ran to the front while the woman was there with her dog. I got there and she said she was fine, and her dog was fine, but then the boyfriend came over an hour later...yeah.
At this point, some of you may be wondering what the deal is with this "aggressive" dog. He was a rescue-we adopted him. He was our responsibility. And he NEVER got aggressive with us or those we welcomed to our home. He was a protector and loved his family. Right before he went to the lockup the 2nd time, he was with toddlers at Christmas, and they were pulling his fur and loving him by kissing him on the head, while I held onto him. He was family, and we continued to work with him on this aggressive side with other dogs. Every day he was well exercised, out in public and we did our best with him.
He socialized well with single other dogs, playing with his cousin dog, a dog at the lake and other critters he found. When on a leash, though, he was overly protective of his humans. His next offense, he was protecting his new sister, our daughter's dog. Out walking, they encountered a woman with 2 small dogs on retractable leashes (a menace to all those damn leashes). She couldn't control the retraction, and her dogs and our dogs got into it. No jail time was done, but we paid a significant vet bill for one of her dogs, and now Santana was branded with a muzzle requirement.
The 3rd time was totally not his fault. Remember the woman with the greyhound? Well, she got another one at some point, walks in front of our house with both, while on her cell phone, every day. Jupiter managed to open the front outside door, and both dogs ran out. Santana, being 12 now, came back in the house right away, never getting to the other dogs. It's likely that Jupiter (according to witnesses) scratched the woman's leg when wanting to say hello to the greyhounds. Santana was already in the house at that point. The woman, though, complained, and into the slammer went to dogs. We paid her minimal vet bill (for a check up) - she didn't have any injuries. This, by the way, happened in our yard, not on the sidewalk (according to witnesses). We got an order to have a fence installed, based on Santana's priors, and I got a court date. Guess that fence order is moot now. My court date is this week.
When you adopt a year old animal, you adopt all the habits (good and bad), and the history of an animal you just don't know a lot about. You do your best to work with his bad habits, and reinforce the good ones, reward the good, and let the dog know about the bad. You also learn that some dogs are smarter than others, and learn faster. Other dogs are sweeter and get by with that.
Santana was a protector, my friend, our family member, and a good old boy. Those who met him personally loved him. He got judgey with a friend of mine one day, and my friend, being a dog person, flipped him over on his back and rubbed his belly (did the "You are NOT the Boss" lesson). My friend taught me more than Cesar about dogs that day.
Santana loved children in the house to pet him excessively, love him much. He went and hid when he had enough. He loved to watch the world go by from the window near our stairs in the house, and sat outside on the porch with us many summer evenings, then on the back deck in his later years. He loved Shadow Lake, and was the subject of a book we gave out for Christmas one year. Wooster Park and the stream were favorite spots as well, and he would go right into the Sound in February. We embarrassed him with bandannas for holidays and the obligatory antlers on Christmas, sometimes tying blankets around him like a super hero. He loved his biscuits, his peanut butter, and never saw a steak bone he could resist.
He died in the comfort of his home, and his ashes will be kept here for a while, as we figure out where to put him for our own comfort. And maybe, just maybe, after a mourning period, it will be time...until then we have our grand-dog and grand-cats to keep us company.
When a big dog's heart starts to quit, it is fast, faster than I admitted to myself that it would go. We knew he was not as strong as he'd been, nor was he as agile. His back end was a bit tough for him to raise up these past few months. While he continued to be playful with the puppydog (2 year old Jupiter - boxer mix) he sometimes just plopped down in the midst of the action. He didn't huff and puff until a week ago last Friday.
At the vet's for his kennel shots (the plan was for the pups to be kenneled with a wonderful woman - just for a few days so our youngest could come to vacay with us for 3 days), the kid asked the vet about the huff and puff incident. She listened to his heart, and he gave her the answer...a murmer and likely heart disease. No shots that day, but lasiks and an antiemitic to keep him going for a little while. He didn't have long, she said in a roundabout way...as long as he accepted the drugs he'd have a little longer.
He really tried to take the peanut butter laden pills that first day. The second day, not so much. No eating, just some sips of water. He still made it outside for a pee, but then quickly laid down again in the house. The third day he had made his decision - no pills, no food. Our daughter swears he did his best to keep going, but it was evident by Friday afternoon that his last hurrah was in progress.
We got the call, and sadness was just there, you know? Arrangements were made for his cremation at the really expensive emergency vet - what would you do? We will get a call at some point to pick his urn up.
OK, so that is his death. What about his life? This big lug was rescued originally from a house in Harlem, NYC that was burned out. He was leashed to the porch. By the time he woke up the next day, his junk was gone. A few days later, he was shipped to the ASPCA in Monroe...yeah, to Fred. Now, Fred doesn't have the best reputation and has been prosecuted a few times for issues with dogs in his care, but he had an open house that day.
We had lost our Bama (a gorgeous small shepherd mix that was beloved by all) after 16 years the year before, and our whole family minus one was out that Saturday looking to rescue a dog. This included our kids, us, and my Mom. Dad was working. We ended up in Monroe, and I saw a kid that I knew who was volunteering for Fred. I asked him if any bigger dogs had come in during the past week and he said to wait outside. We gathered outside the main house, and this young man came out with our Santana. We knew right away he was ours, and he knew it too.
In the kitchen, when he came in with us, our cat, Ozzy was looking at him with that "WTF are you doing here?" look. Santana proceeded to take his first pooh with us, in the middle of the kitchen floor. Yes, the cat scared the shit out of him.
He was the best behaved dog after that, with us, and in the house. He had a sweet soul for his family, and those his family allowed into the house. We taught him "EATING" so he would leave the kitchen or area where we were eating. He barked like a crazy dog at any noise at the door, as a good big dog should, saving us from the mail carrier, the UPS delivery person and many solicitors over the years. We had to keep him away from the delivery people, the plumbers, phone folks. As he got older, he learned to bark at us for a pee or pooh. That was when he wasn't as "regular" as he'd been most of his life.
Outside, he was Mr. Protective, often to a fault (hence the felon title). My Mom walked him one day, unbeknownst to the other adults in the house, and he nipped a boy who walked too close to her. We didn't find out about that till we saw it in the paper. We fessed up, and he had to do time in a kennel in quarantine (number 1). After hearing about why Mom didn't say anything, the police officers were kind enough to keep her out of it. He came home, none the worse for the wear. The boy wasn't hurt other than a nip on the leg (band aid from what we heard - no, they didn't need anything from us). Training became a bit more of a priority...and we began the "No Mom Left Alone" rule.
Several years later, he nipped at a woman from down the street who was walking her Greyhound in front of the house. Now, I love dogs, and greyhounds too, but people with greyhounds are often quite pretentious about them. The woman's boyfriend got really mad that our mixed Shepherd would have the nerve to bark at the GREYHOUND as the GREYHOUND had a horrible life before the GREYHOUND was lucky enough to be adopted by them. He did 2 weeks for that nip, and the loss of the GREYHOUND's nail on the sidewalk. I'll take the blame for that - it was cold and he was in the backyard for a quick pee...quick enough so he ran to the front while the woman was there with her dog. I got there and she said she was fine, and her dog was fine, but then the boyfriend came over an hour later...yeah.
At this point, some of you may be wondering what the deal is with this "aggressive" dog. He was a rescue-we adopted him. He was our responsibility. And he NEVER got aggressive with us or those we welcomed to our home. He was a protector and loved his family. Right before he went to the lockup the 2nd time, he was with toddlers at Christmas, and they were pulling his fur and loving him by kissing him on the head, while I held onto him. He was family, and we continued to work with him on this aggressive side with other dogs. Every day he was well exercised, out in public and we did our best with him.
He socialized well with single other dogs, playing with his cousin dog, a dog at the lake and other critters he found. When on a leash, though, he was overly protective of his humans. His next offense, he was protecting his new sister, our daughter's dog. Out walking, they encountered a woman with 2 small dogs on retractable leashes (a menace to all those damn leashes). She couldn't control the retraction, and her dogs and our dogs got into it. No jail time was done, but we paid a significant vet bill for one of her dogs, and now Santana was branded with a muzzle requirement.
The 3rd time was totally not his fault. Remember the woman with the greyhound? Well, she got another one at some point, walks in front of our house with both, while on her cell phone, every day. Jupiter managed to open the front outside door, and both dogs ran out. Santana, being 12 now, came back in the house right away, never getting to the other dogs. It's likely that Jupiter (according to witnesses) scratched the woman's leg when wanting to say hello to the greyhounds. Santana was already in the house at that point. The woman, though, complained, and into the slammer went to dogs. We paid her minimal vet bill (for a check up) - she didn't have any injuries. This, by the way, happened in our yard, not on the sidewalk (according to witnesses). We got an order to have a fence installed, based on Santana's priors, and I got a court date. Guess that fence order is moot now. My court date is this week.
When you adopt a year old animal, you adopt all the habits (good and bad), and the history of an animal you just don't know a lot about. You do your best to work with his bad habits, and reinforce the good ones, reward the good, and let the dog know about the bad. You also learn that some dogs are smarter than others, and learn faster. Other dogs are sweeter and get by with that.
Santana was a protector, my friend, our family member, and a good old boy. Those who met him personally loved him. He got judgey with a friend of mine one day, and my friend, being a dog person, flipped him over on his back and rubbed his belly (did the "You are NOT the Boss" lesson). My friend taught me more than Cesar about dogs that day.
Santana loved children in the house to pet him excessively, love him much. He went and hid when he had enough. He loved to watch the world go by from the window near our stairs in the house, and sat outside on the porch with us many summer evenings, then on the back deck in his later years. He loved Shadow Lake, and was the subject of a book we gave out for Christmas one year. Wooster Park and the stream were favorite spots as well, and he would go right into the Sound in February. We embarrassed him with bandannas for holidays and the obligatory antlers on Christmas, sometimes tying blankets around him like a super hero. He loved his biscuits, his peanut butter, and never saw a steak bone he could resist.
He died in the comfort of his home, and his ashes will be kept here for a while, as we figure out where to put him for our own comfort. And maybe, just maybe, after a mourning period, it will be time...until then we have our grand-dog and grand-cats to keep us company.
I am sorry to read about the three time felon, Santana. What. Wonderful name, I also like the band. It sounds as if he was a wonderful family member, great friend, and protector to all.
ReplyDeleteHe was named Santana because that same band you mentioned was on the radio as we put him into the van the moment we picked him up! It just seemed right.
ReplyDelete