When I first
met my now husband I loved everything about him with the distinct exception of
his dog, Apollo. Matt had adopted Apollo from the local ASPCA while he was in
college in North Carolina. He tells me with a sparkle in his eyes that he
didn’t go to the shelter with the intention of adopting, but when he took
Apollo out into the run to meet him, he knew, “this was his dog.” He threw a tennis ball across the run and
Apollo looked to the end of the run at the ball and then back at Matt,
repeating this confused head tilt several times. He then came over to Matt who
was kneeling down and put his head into his lap—it was a done deal and he took
him home that day.
I should
prerequisite this story by saying that there is nothing more I love on this
earth than animals. I devote my time to volunteering and fostering shelter
animals so as you might imagine, it takes a lot for me to have truly feel
hatred towards a dog.
After the
third time Apollo bit me, through my jeans and deep into my knee, and after
several unprovoked attacks on my dog, Tovi, I begged Matt to have him put down,
acquiescing to the notion that he was an undomesticated, dangerous dog. And it wasn’t just me, or my dog…He bit
anyone who he felt crossed him, including Matt who had seemed to have accepted
this as his behavior. He would bite visitors who stepped to close to him or
while they were gently petting him.
He was also
extremely fearful of dogs unfamiliar to him which caused him to be dog
aggressive (this made for fun walks). He had attacked a few dogs over the
years and Matt dealt with it the only way he knew how to—by covering many vet
bills from other dog owners and friend’s medical bills, without ever exploring
the root issue. Then I came into the picture with my “Type A” personality and
my firm belief in training a dog-- I would have no part of this chaos.
I refused to
move in with Matt until he agreed to address about Apollo’s behavior. I
insisted we hire a trainer as a last resort before I would insist on putting
him down. Matt was skeptical, “How can a
10 year old dog be trained, he has been this way all of his life,” but
eventually he agreed to give training a chance, and in I moved.
Circa 2005—When
I had adopted Tovi, he was a well natured dog but had some kinks to work
out. I learned that dogs
are pack animals and if they don’t sense a strong leader, they will assume that
part, it’s simply their nature. Unbenounced to me at the time, I just happened
to contact the most authoritarian trainer on the East Coast. He was extremely
harsh, even borderline abusive, in his methods. He was known for his ability to
rehabilitate the most uninhabitable dogs--he has the reputation of training
dogs on the verge of death row and considered unable to change. I cringed as I
watched him give my dog chokes (a.k.a in my opinion mini traumas) to curb
undesirable behaviors. As painful as it was, there was no denying that he was
the best. I know this man would be the only trainer I trusted to help Apollo. I only hoped he was
still in business after all these years; to my delight, he was.
I initially
agreed to be a part of all of the training sessions, but after a few sessions I
didn’t have the stomach for it-- his abusive methods were more than I could
bear. I couldn’t bear to watch Apollo being shocked via electric collar at any
lunge toward another dog or not adhere to a command he was learning. He would
scream in pain. It was harsh, but there was no denying that he was making rapid
improvements and beginning to learn his place.
I think
that’s when I began falling in love with him. I couldn’t stand to see him in
pain, and worried about his 10 year old heart with these shocks. We stuck with
it though because we knew we had no other choice, and after the training was
complete, he was a different dog. He was sweet and lovable--I wasn’t afraid to
step too close to him or take an empty dish away from him; he respected us and
knew he was no longer the alpha of the house. He still has dog aggression but less,
and we managed it by crossing the street to avoid other dogs on our walks. His
behavior with humans took a complete 180 degree shift, Prozac helped wit that
too. And him and Tovi became besties and inseparable.
Apollo has so
many wonderful qualities. He is a total love bug. He is extremely devoted to me
with his gentle and loving disposition. I think he knows how much his life
changed for the better when I came into it. He was a hairy mess for one, being
a Chow Mix, but now he goes to the groomer regularly, which he loves. Our amazing groomer opens her shop on her day off just to accommodate Apollo and our vet knows to get him into the building through the back entrance and directly into a room. He has earned himself quite the reputation.
Apollo Before
Apollo After, The "Distinguished Gentleman"
I would get looks
from fellow humans walking their dogs when he begins shaking and making awful
whimpering sound combined with a vicious bark when he spots a fellow dog, but
he calms down much more rapidly once he knows they are safe. I used to be
humiliated by his behavior, but I now accept him for who he is. We take a break
to calm down-- I sit beside him and tell him that all dogs like to take walks
in the fresh air, not just him. And because of him I learned to use my voice, even when I know I may be
judged, to ask owners of dogs who are walking around the sidewalks without
leashes to please leash them due to his aggression. I am his biggest
advocate and protector.
Somewhere
along the way I learned to love this imperfect dog. The seed of love was
planted when he began training. A few months later I had part of my colon
removed and was out of work for three months—I spent my days with him beside me
as he took to following me everywhere, my
protector now. After that I was in a Residential Eating Disorder center for 3
weeks and Matt would bring him with him all the way to Philly to see me on the weekends. We would lie out on a blanket in the beautiful spring weather and his simple presence
brightened me up.
I sense when
he doesn’t feel well and I am usually right. The few times we all went hiking
when Matt and I first began dating he contracted Lyme’s Disease. He was limping
around and I knew what it was immediately because I had seen it in a friend’s
dog. Our vet at the time swore it wasn’t but I insisted he test him for it
anyway, and after blood work, it was confirmed. Another time I noticed he couldn’t eat hard food and I suspected
he had an abscessed tooth. He did, and the vet told us he was going to remove
3-4 teeth but after his surgery was over he called to tell us that he had to
remove 15, yes 15! I secretly liked that
he didn’t have many teeth anymore so that he wouldn’t be able to bite, so I
thought, but apparently he still has the K9’s which do the most damage. He was then
diagnosed with Epilepsy after I suspected some seizure like experiences
happening in his throat and mouth regions. Despite the sleuth of medication he was
on, he continued to be a happy dog. He enjoyed walks and tummy rubs, and loved
his brown, fleece quilted winter coat. When it got too hard for him to jump on our bed we made him these stairs for Christmas one year that he uses religiously.
Most recently, this past Mother's Day (ironically) I was trimming his hair with scissors to get some of the mats out when I accidently cut him open! Twelve stitches later and a long trip to the ER he earned the nicknamed, "Stitch."
He was always
very gentle with his feline friends. We began fostering in our guest room and
we had a particularly dog like cat, now named Happy, who hated to stay in the
guest room. We would allow him to come out and play around the house while
Apollo was in another room with the door closed. One night Matt was out of town
and Happy was in our bedroom and kept knocking things over keeping me awake. It
was dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses-- I moved Happy into the guest room and
shut the door behind me. The next morning I woke up and called for the dogs…
they were nowhere to be found. Then I started to hear barking from the guest
room. My heart sank deeply into my stomach fully expecting to find a dead cat
in the room. To my surprise, the three of them were lying in bed together. Serendipitously
we learned that he wasn’t afraid of, or aggressive with cats.
Underneath
his tough guy exterior, there was a sweet, loving dog lying dormant for most of
his life. I would suspect that he was attacked by a dog(s) prior to making his
way into the shelter, having come in as a stray dog. Trauma can destroy a soul,
whether it is a person or animal, and everyone deals with it differently. I often hear
about dogs that have gone through horrific experiences and come out sweet and
gentle toward humans--I never cease to be amazed by the amount of
resilience and unconditional love animals have to give, no matter how they
had been treated. But, I have learned not to compare—we all handle things
differently and that’s what makes both humans and animals unique.
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I originally wrote this
last about 2 years ago (with the exception of the addition of the stitch incident). Today is June 23, 2014 – Apollo’s last day on earth.
Several months ago he went into Kidney Failure but it was well controlled with
a special diet and medication. Over the past week his little body broke down
and after waking up this morning to a series of seizures, vomiting and other things
I won’t mention, we knew it was time. We took Tovi with us so he would know
that Apollo was gone--we didn’t want him to wonder when he would be coming back
or where we went. Dogs accept death as a part of life much more than we do.
After he was put to sleep Tovi sniffed him (his way of saying goodbye) and I lay
on the ground clinging to his lifeless body. Matt and I cried together. It still
seems surreal not having the little guy around the house. I will never forget
him and all of the lessons he has taught me; most importantly forgiveness, patience, unconditional
love, and how to speak up to protect those we love. I learned to fall madly in love with him despite his flaws, and maybe I loved
him even more for his flaws.
Run free, we
will see you over the bridge one day.
There is a bridge connecting heaven
and earth. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land
of meadows, hills, valleys with lush green grass. When a beloved pet
dies, the pet
goes to this special place.
There is always food and water and warm spring weather. The old and frail are
young again. Those who are maimed are made whole again. They play all day with each other. There is
only one thing missing. They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth. So each day
they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks
up! The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring! And this one
suddenly runs from the group! You have been seen, and when you and your special
friend meet, you take him or her into your arms and embrace. Your face is
kissed again and again, and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting
pet. Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge
together, never again to be
separated
