can't seem to escape being an animal nurse
When my ride came to pick me up for game tonight, Gracie had to chase my dog down, as her visiting mother had let him out unsupervised. Not her fault. She didn't know that he jumps the fence if no one's waiting at the door to let him in. However, as I was then leaving, I had to turn around and lead Yasha back inside because she was standing in the open doorway. I then had to tell her to close the door because she'd let him turn around and walk right past her again in his attempt to follow me.
In short, it was made very clear to Marne that she can't leave doors open or let Yasha outside because he will escape, especially if I'm not in the house.
So of course when I come home at nearly 1:00 in the morning, so does he. Limping and bleeding from several places, quite literally chewed up. I suppose I'd neglected to point out to Marne that he is a territorial, poorly socialized German Shepherd, because silly me, I thought that was obvious. She's seen how he acts around strangers.
No dog has been more loyal or loving towards me than Yasha, but he's also the fiercest protector I've ever had.
Apparently, though, I should have made my ride wait while I lectured her for fifteen minutes on why she should be paranoid about him escaping, rather than nonchalant (like she is with her daughter's dog, Ruby, whom I frequently meet on the street while walking to campus, no matter how much Gracie complains to her mother about this habit...)
You know, my most beloved cat was killed because some cocky idiot let his dogs pull loose as he was walking them past. Not that Yasha would kill a cat, as he adores them, but I wouldn't put it past him to kill a smaller dog... or get hit by a car while he tries to bite the front tires (I've seen him try this before, on occasions when the other brain-rotted fool has let him slip out.)
In short, it was made very clear to Marne that she can't leave doors open or let Yasha outside because he will escape, especially if I'm not in the house.
So of course when I come home at nearly 1:00 in the morning, so does he. Limping and bleeding from several places, quite literally chewed up. I suppose I'd neglected to point out to Marne that he is a territorial, poorly socialized German Shepherd, because silly me, I thought that was obvious. She's seen how he acts around strangers.
No dog has been more loyal or loving towards me than Yasha, but he's also the fiercest protector I've ever had.
Apparently, though, I should have made my ride wait while I lectured her for fifteen minutes on why she should be paranoid about him escaping, rather than nonchalant (like she is with her daughter's dog, Ruby, whom I frequently meet on the street while walking to campus, no matter how much Gracie complains to her mother about this habit...)
You know, my most beloved cat was killed because some cocky idiot let his dogs pull loose as he was walking them past. Not that Yasha would kill a cat, as he adores them, but I wouldn't put it past him to kill a smaller dog... or get hit by a car while he tries to bite the front tires (I've seen him try this before, on occasions when the other brain-rotted fool has let him slip out.)