A
Lady and a Rottweiler
It takes quite a bit to sway my mind set on something;
however, I have recently learned that in one day everything that a person thinks
he or she knows about something can change. Sometimes this can be a positive
experience. In my case it was a devastating realization of something I had been
so sure of. I never would have expected an animal to teach me this lesson.
Though I thought our dog was a safe family pet, I was proven wrong one ordinary
Tuesday night that I will never forget.
My husband, Scott, grew up having Rottweiler dogs as
pets. He favored their strong and protective nature and swore by their
kindness. Naturally, when we decided to get a dog he urged me to consider this
breed for our family. Having small
children and no experience with large dogs, I was concerned that a Rottweiler
would be dangerous. Despite my reservations, my husband’s wishes won out and we
adopted a Rottweiler puppy. We named her Siris. For two years she was part of
our family. She played well with my children and was kind and gentle to them.
My judgmental nature was slowly overcome and eventually I whole heartedly trusted
her, so much so that she became a sense of security for me. Nothing and no one
got past Siris undetected.
Being
an outside dog, Siris was the master of her backyard. Every few months we would walk outside and
find her sitting next to a dead possum.
We were grateful; after all, no one wants possums living in their trees.
In hindsight we should have considered the similarities between an uninvited
possum, and Lady, our much cherished feline family member. It never crossed my
mind to worry about this since Lady stayed inside the house and Siris stayed
outside. Besides occasionally spying
each other through the window, they never came in contact. That is until the
day that Lady’s curiosity overcame her.
It was early summer that evening and closing
time for my daycare. All the families had picked up their children, save my
sister Brandi and my good friend Paige, whom lingered a bit longer while their
kids played with my boys. I was mid-conversation when my sister flew off the
couch, shrieking about the dog. “She’s got the cat! Scott, quick, she’s got
Lady!” Her words were fast and panicked and her finger pointed at the window
she had been staring out.
My
heart stopped. I felt instant adrenaline rush through my body as I ran to the
back door, tripping over everything in my path.
Scott beat me there; I pushed past him only to see the most horrifying
sight I have ever seen. Siris’ wide jaws were firmly locked around Lady’s torso
as she thrashed her head right to left, whiplashing my cat back and forth like
a rag doll.
I
was hit with instant nausea and uncontrollable tears. Scott rushed to the
bloody scene while I hurried to the privacy of a closed door. I stood alone
trying to collect myself and process what I saw. Aware of the young and curious ears that were
just a room away, I quickly collected myself as best as I could and walked out.
I stuttered through a few words of comfort to the children in my care and began
my way back to the patio doors, opening them just as my husband came through
with Lady in his arms. I held my
breath. My chest ached with the tears I
fought to hold back. Reaching out, Scott gently laid the small motionless body
into arms. To my surprise, Lady turned her head and looked up at me with wide
frantic eyes. She was alive!
Hope
instantly surged through me, then just as quickly vanished as I surveyed her
more closely. Her mouth was wide open and she was panting for air. Her stomach
bled, but from where exactly I was unsure as I was too scared to move her
enough to inspect. She appeared to be in shock, and recalling the way her frail
body was shaken, I suspected she was paralyzed. I held her tight and still,
spoke a few loving goodbye words into her fur, and looked up to my husband for
help. “She’s suffering,” I said, “do not
make her suffer. Take her out of misery. She’s dying.”
I
was shocked to see the tiny barely visible tear in the corner of Scott’s right
eye. “I can’t,” he replied. His voice was low and shaken. I stood and stared at
him, not knowing what I should do or say. I had completely forgotten about
everyone else around us until I heard Paige’s voice break in with her
objection, insisting that we take the cat to an emergency animal hospital.
Common sense found its way back to me and I hurried to the car, leaving my
sister behind to care for my children.
Sitting
in the veterinarian’s waiting room I recalled the entire scene again in my
head. I made a mental list of what I expected
to hear from the doctor. Broken back,
punctured lungs, and uncontrollable bleeding. I already knew that I would be
asked for permission to euthanize her. To my surprise, the vet came back to us
with a smile. “Nothing is broken,” he started, his tone hinting to his surprise
as well, “but I have some concerns.” The doctor explained that she was in
relatively good condition in consideration of the circumstances, and that
despite a limp tail that may require amputation, there were no signs of any
permanent injuries. Lady was lucky; she had been attacked by an 85 pound
Rottweiler, and survived.
Neither
my husband nor I spoke during the drive home that night. We both knew what the
other was thinking and not saying. We knew what became of so many possums. Now
we saw her maul our cat. My mind raced with questions of what was possible,
what would happen next, and if we could trust her with our children. Not
knowing the answers revolted me. I no longer had assurance that she was safe
and I feared what she was capable of. It was Scott who broke our silence as we
pulled into the drive way. “Siris has to go.” Broken hearted, I agreed. The next morning we said our goodbyes to
Siris and turned her over to a Rottweiler rescue shelter.
Everyone
knows there are no certainties in life.
Anything can change in seconds.
Every time I look at Lady, whom miraculously made a full recovery, I am
reminded how fortunate my family is that we saw Siris’ predatory behavior
unleash on a cat and not a small child. I will never forget what I saw, and
hence, I will never be able to completely trust a dog again. Especially not a
Rottweiler.
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