Buddy
It has been a long time since I have posted--raging depression, bacterial lung infection, problems with my house, kidneys, aneurysm, a recent fall and shoulder injury, blah blah--that I grew silent and felt it was best not to burden anyone with the incredible mess my life was in. Nothing good was happening but my domestic violence shelter work volunteering and I felt I had nothing much to say that anyone would want to hear. But recent events with my large dog Buddy, who has caused me more terror in my life than I have ever known, have caused me to break my silence.
I rescued Buddy from an abandoned farmhouse at the Alabama-Mississippi state line several years ago. I was driving to the casino and saw him by the side of the road--skeletal, hairless, a broken foot, cut-off tail , the post pathetic, pitiful animal I had EVER seen. My heart immediately broke, and I knew I had to help him. After contacting an animal worker who met me back down there the next week we went around the area until we found a family willing to try and pick him up for me (for a nice sum, of course). We left out a big bag of dog food and about a week later I got a call--they had got him. I drove back down and Buddy was so weak he couldn't even walk. I took him straight to the vet, where he had heartworms, liver failure, kidney failure, and of course starvation. The vet said he was only two or three days from death but he would do what he could.
Buddy pulled though and grew into a 120 lb mixed breed who looked like the St. Bernard in the movie Beethoven. Once I got him home, he was FIERCELY territorial and would allow no one in or near him but me. He had a fenced in yard and garage to get in when it rained or was hot or cold, plus a huge crawlspace underneath the house. Since I live alone in the country, I was glad I had a dog that would rip anyone to pieces who snuck into my backyard.
Then as he grew older he started getting territorial and aggressive with ME. I cannot describe how huge his head was and how menacing and blood-curdling his growl, snarl, and bared teeth were. The hedges by my fence have not been clipped in two years because when the yard man started clipping them Buddy came charging to the fence and jumped up to it (he couldn't jump over it though) and terrified the yard man so badly he threw down his clippers and left there and then. I am the ONLY one he would allow to feed him.
He never was socialized, and his behavior grew more and more unpredictable with me. Then, for reasons I don't know, Buddy decided to trap me inside the garage for 45 minutes right at the door that leads inside the house. I couldn't move a muscle. He had his teeth bared and his ears back and that snarling growl was the most feral awful sound I had ever heard. If I tried to move my hand back it just got louder and worse and he would snap at me. I was trying to reach behind me for the doorknob to somehow fling open the door and try and get into the house.
Both my legs started shaking uncontrollably, and I knew if I made a false move--or any move, for that matter, my throat would be ripped out. My arms and hands started shaking violently along with my legs, and he just pinned me further and growled and snarled viciously, staring at be with huge fangs and death in his eyes. Somehow, I willed my arms and hands to stop moving. For those who have read other journal entries of mine, the terror for me was worse than the time Dad held us all hostage with a gun and tried to strangle me. I think maybe I had the desire to protect my other family members and some shock going for me that night with Dad. This time, it was just raw terror.
I just talked to Buddy real softly and calmly and kept saying "Dear Jesus" over and over. I wanted to faint. I wanted to scream. I wanted to get away, even to die, but not by Buddy's teeth. After an eternity of me being motionless except for my legs shaking, he seemed to lose interest and just walked away. The next day he was his usual self..
A sane person would have had him put down the next day. I am not sane. I tolerated his unpredictable behavior for a while longer and took to carrying a gun to feed and water him. There were more incidents. Meanwhile, my anxiety kept going through the roof and my nerves went to shreds. There was a final, terrifying incident involving him forcing his way into the house after I fed him which I will not detail but it was enough.
There was NO WAY to approach him by this point to get him to the vet to euthanize, so the vet sent me home with 6 Acepromazine tablets. Big fail. The next day, 12 Acepromazine. Another Big Fail. They literally had no effect on him. I hired a company called Trutech. The sad ending involved a rifle. Buddy charged the technician and frightened him so badly (a wild animal control specialist, mind you), that he was white as a sheet and his hands were shaking so badly I had to light his cigarette for him after it was all over. As you can imagine, I have triggered my PTSD and am up again in the middle of the night in spite of the doctor giving me sleeping pills and tranquilizers.
Buddy never had a chance to be different than what he was, and endured horrors I can only imagine before I ever saw him on the Alabama-Mississippi state line that day. Wherever he is now, I hope he has found a happier ending, or a new beginning.
I rescued Buddy from an abandoned farmhouse at the Alabama-Mississippi state line several years ago. I was driving to the casino and saw him by the side of the road--skeletal, hairless, a broken foot, cut-off tail , the post pathetic, pitiful animal I had EVER seen. My heart immediately broke, and I knew I had to help him. After contacting an animal worker who met me back down there the next week we went around the area until we found a family willing to try and pick him up for me (for a nice sum, of course). We left out a big bag of dog food and about a week later I got a call--they had got him. I drove back down and Buddy was so weak he couldn't even walk. I took him straight to the vet, where he had heartworms, liver failure, kidney failure, and of course starvation. The vet said he was only two or three days from death but he would do what he could.
Buddy pulled though and grew into a 120 lb mixed breed who looked like the St. Bernard in the movie Beethoven. Once I got him home, he was FIERCELY territorial and would allow no one in or near him but me. He had a fenced in yard and garage to get in when it rained or was hot or cold, plus a huge crawlspace underneath the house. Since I live alone in the country, I was glad I had a dog that would rip anyone to pieces who snuck into my backyard.
Then as he grew older he started getting territorial and aggressive with ME. I cannot describe how huge his head was and how menacing and blood-curdling his growl, snarl, and bared teeth were. The hedges by my fence have not been clipped in two years because when the yard man started clipping them Buddy came charging to the fence and jumped up to it (he couldn't jump over it though) and terrified the yard man so badly he threw down his clippers and left there and then. I am the ONLY one he would allow to feed him.
He never was socialized, and his behavior grew more and more unpredictable with me. Then, for reasons I don't know, Buddy decided to trap me inside the garage for 45 minutes right at the door that leads inside the house. I couldn't move a muscle. He had his teeth bared and his ears back and that snarling growl was the most feral awful sound I had ever heard. If I tried to move my hand back it just got louder and worse and he would snap at me. I was trying to reach behind me for the doorknob to somehow fling open the door and try and get into the house.
Both my legs started shaking uncontrollably, and I knew if I made a false move--or any move, for that matter, my throat would be ripped out. My arms and hands started shaking violently along with my legs, and he just pinned me further and growled and snarled viciously, staring at be with huge fangs and death in his eyes. Somehow, I willed my arms and hands to stop moving. For those who have read other journal entries of mine, the terror for me was worse than the time Dad held us all hostage with a gun and tried to strangle me. I think maybe I had the desire to protect my other family members and some shock going for me that night with Dad. This time, it was just raw terror.
I just talked to Buddy real softly and calmly and kept saying "Dear Jesus" over and over. I wanted to faint. I wanted to scream. I wanted to get away, even to die, but not by Buddy's teeth. After an eternity of me being motionless except for my legs shaking, he seemed to lose interest and just walked away. The next day he was his usual self..
A sane person would have had him put down the next day. I am not sane. I tolerated his unpredictable behavior for a while longer and took to carrying a gun to feed and water him. There were more incidents. Meanwhile, my anxiety kept going through the roof and my nerves went to shreds. There was a final, terrifying incident involving him forcing his way into the house after I fed him which I will not detail but it was enough.
There was NO WAY to approach him by this point to get him to the vet to euthanize, so the vet sent me home with 6 Acepromazine tablets. Big fail. The next day, 12 Acepromazine. Another Big Fail. They literally had no effect on him. I hired a company called Trutech. The sad ending involved a rifle. Buddy charged the technician and frightened him so badly (a wild animal control specialist, mind you), that he was white as a sheet and his hands were shaking so badly I had to light his cigarette for him after it was all over. As you can imagine, I have triggered my PTSD and am up again in the middle of the night in spite of the doctor giving me sleeping pills and tranquilizers.
Buddy never had a chance to be different than what he was, and endured horrors I can only imagine before I ever saw him on the Alabama-Mississippi state line that day. Wherever he is now, I hope he has found a happier ending, or a new beginning.