When I saw Dixie
it was love at first sight. Getting a dog was not a decision I made lightly. My
husband’s mantra had long been, “When the kids are grown and the pets are
dead…” The kids were grown and our cat of nearly 19 years had been gone for a
couple of years when I began to get the itch for another pet. I started
trolling the Humane Society and no-kill animal shelter websites. I knew I
wanted a medium size dog, not a puppy, and one already housetrained. When I saw
Dixie ’s photo I made arrangements to visit her
at her foster home. “I’m just going to look,” I told my husband.
I
parked in the drive of the big farm house and watched as a black and white
mostly Border Collie wearing a red bandana on her neck descended the front
porch steps like a debutante. She paused at the bottom and lifted
her paw to shake hands with me. That was it. Dixie
got her forever home that day and I learned what it meant to lose your heart to
an animal. I also learned what it meant to be a responsible pet owner.
Some
people might say my dogs are spoiled. Chloe, our second black and white mostly
Border Collie, joined our family a few years after Dixie .
They live in the house. They have soft beds and a big fenced yard to romp in. I
buy them the best dog food and give them treats when they do something good
like wag their tail or look at me with their big brown eyes. They are
micro-chipped, have all their jewelry (tags), and see the vet regularly for
required shots and check-ups. I give them heartworm, flea and tick prevention
every month. They see the groomer for baths regularly and are brushed and
‘furminated’ almost daily. When I go out of town my husband comes home from
work to give them their outdoor potty breaks and when we are both travelling
they have a wonderful place to board.
In
return I get total devotion and unconditional love. I’m the hands-down winner
in this arrangement.
This
morning as we were finishing our walk I spied two dogs on the loose at the end
of the block. I promptly turned around to avoid them, but before I could escape
one was on us. A pit bull mix. I’m not breed-bashing here, that’s just what it
was. I screamed forcefully, “NO,” as I tried to pull my dogs away from the
attacking animal. I had a combined one-hundred pounds of protection at the end
of my leashes and I’m certain they would have died before they let the dog get to me.
I
am thankful for the kindness of strangers. A man in a red pickup truck stopped
and ran the dogs off. My dogs and I made fast for home. I mouthed thank you and
waved as the man drove away. What might have happened had he not appeared out
of nowhere?
My
dogs were not hurt. I was not hurt, physically. The attack occurred hours ago
and I have not stopped shaking. I can’t speak of it without crying.
Animal
Control was notified and responded promptly. The dogs have not been found. Are
they still out there or did they find their way back home? I’m afraid to leave
my house.
I
don’t blame the dogs. I feel sorry for them. If they are picked up (and I hope
they are, because they are obviously dangerous) they will probably be put down
at the city animal shelter. Is that a harsher alternative to living with an
irresponsible owner? I’m not sure.
In
a perfect world all pets would be loved and cared for. In a perfect world I
wouldn’t be afraid to leave my house because of someone’s irresponsibility.
I’m
sure I’ll get over it in a few days. I’m going to buy pepper spray to protect
myself and my dogs should anything like this ever happen again. But what about
the dogs no one is protecting? What is to become of them? How sad.
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