I had no sooner sent in my positive update to the blog last week than a near catastrophe occurred. I am sharing this, even though it hurts to write about it. I’m doing so because I think it’s important to recognize that country living has pitfalls, as does self-sufficiency. Your preps and relationships become very important and not just for the obvious reasons. In this case, I needed plentiful first aid supplies, a clear head, and neighbors I could call in an Emergency. I will tell you the story.
Warning: This is a graphic heart-wrenching story. Please skip over it if you need to.
One of my dogs, who I had raised from puppyhood, and trained, attacked me. By God’s grace, I was wearing a very heavy jacket which saved both my arms. It acted like a “bite suit”, which is a heavy training suit worn by people who train attack dogs. Some of the surface skin on my arms was torn off through the jacket and both arms are deeply bruised – the arm he refused to let go of while I was screaming my head off is particularly bruised. But, no bones were broken, I didn’t lose any fingers, and the one bite on my leg was fleeting. If not for the heavy jacket, I would be in deep trouble.
He had not been provoked. He had decided, all 100+ German Shepherd pounds of him, that I belonged to him and the other dogs on the farm could shove off or die. He had become increasingly protective of me over time (4 years), and I would correct him and make sure that he got lots of attention, exercise, and play time. He loved chasing balls, etc.
As you may or may not remember I had acquired two Great Pyrenees/Anatolian shepherd puppies who are now 8 months old. They would always submit to him and he was kind to them. I kept those puppies separated from the German Shepherds until they were about five months old. But, as they grew and were equal to him in size he became more aggressive towards them in attitude, but not physically. Thankfully they never challenged him nor were aggressive towards him. He was the top dog and everyone knew it. It seemed that all was well. Until it was not.
What started the situation, was that he decided to attack one of the puppies out of the blue, who always stood as still as a statue when being pushed around. That giant puppy never returned the aggression. I decided to interfere, which is when things turned bad for me. I called him off and he got worse. So, I pulled him off (never a good idea and I knew it), and that’s when he turned on me. In the seconds prior to grabbing him, my mind was racing with alternative methods of breaking it up. Grabbing a hose and spraying him down would’ve distracted him, but alas I had recently removed the hoses for the winter and I couldn’t possibly, successfully, separate four dogs by myself. If I ran in the house for the gun which I wasn’t carrying that early morning, he would’ve already killed the other dog, or two, or three, and I would be aiming at a flurry of fur and possibly injure the other dogs, and have 4 dogs to get to an emergency vet who were all out of sorts – not safe in any case. I was not willing to sacrifice the other dogs for my safety, so I plunged in knowing I was going to get hurt.
I dragged him, all the while he was biting me (which still shocks me that I could do that), into the house to separate him from the other dogs. Of course, the other dogs wanted to protect me from him and were following, which made things worse – I was in deep doo and had to just keep going. Once in the house, I kicked the door shut to keep the other dogs out, as he continued attacking me. Then, he suddenly stopped as if he had come to his senses. He came over to apologize to me with a remorseful look in his eyes, a few sad licks, while I was trying to assess the damage to myself. I whispered, choking back tears, “It’s too late buddy. You crossed the one line you can never cross.” I was shaking from the adrenaline, but calmly crated him as he had become very submissive.
First I called our vet, but being a weekend they were closed and the closest “emergency vet” was in the next county over. I knew he had to be put down immediately because he was no longer safe and I still had 3 dogs to look over to make sure they weren’t bleeding. Next, I texted two farming neighbors. One responded immediately and the other was way out in the pasture with cows and didn’t get the message until later. I told them that my dog had viciously attacked me (they both were familiar with my dogs) and I needed him put down and buried as soon as possible. I was still shaking and lightheaded, but knew it had to be done. I couldn’t do it myself. I loved that dog so much. The whole time he was attacking me, all I could think of was “what if this was one of my grandchildren?” No. It had to be done. His favorite thing in the world was when the grandchildren visited. He adored them and was insanely jealous over them too. That threat scared me more than a few bites ever could.
I cleaned up my wounds, thankful I had plentiful first aid supplies, and then went out to check the other dogs. He didn’t get a single bite in on any of them. I was thankful for that, even if I did take the brunt of it. They were all just sitting there quietly, as if they knew Mom was very, very angry and their pack leader was in big trouble. While I waited for my neighbors who were on the way with gun and shovel, I cleaned my wounds again and started icing my arms that were swelling from the bruising. Then, I calmly crated all the other dogs to keep them safe and away from what was about to happen. They didn’t need to witness that. I looked a fright when my neighbors arrived, with torn-up arms and blood all over me, but I was calm and firm. My dog was very happy to see my neighbor who comes here often to help, and went willingly with him to the spot where he was put down. I bawled my head off when I heard the shots (yes, it took more than one… groan) and it was over.
After they buried my dog and had left, I let all the other dogs out. They sniffed around, then followed the trail of blood to his grave. Heartbreaking. I reassured them that they were okay. His best friend, the other German Shepherd Dog raised up with him, is sad and she has refused to eat. I expect it will take her a while. I removed his crate from the house and put it in the barn – still running on adrenaline. I thought I would faint so had to sit down.
I considered going to an urgent care to have someone look at my wounds, but didn’t think I could do the drive. I closely inspected the wounds again. Thankfully there were no puncture wounds. One of my neighbors has nursing experience so she took a look at the wounds as well. The skin will heal and the bruising will heal over time. I didn’t think sutures would be necessary. There will be scars. My dogs are all up to date on shots, so I wasn’t worried about rabies. I’ll have to watch for infection, but hydrogen peroxide is a great solution and I was using it liberally. I did not wrap up the wounds, instead preferring them to air dry. I put on a clean long sleeved shirt and put the bloody clothes in a pile. I took a look at the jacket I had been wearing just to see the damage. It was completely intact, excepti a few holes. The brand is Berne, and it is padded for winter and has a thick canvas outer shell. That’s a jacket I’d buy again.
My mind continued to race though, as I mentally went over the progression of his aggressions up to the moment in time when I made the decision to put him down. He had previously killed two of my sheep, and I had re-homed the flock; he chased the goats so I re-homed them. He had been aggressive towards the pigs and eventually I had re-homed the breeding trio, put pigs in the freezer, etc. He had once gone after a cow who smartly kicked him hard, which ended his desire to chase cows. His aggression towards his best friend that he grew up with had been slowly increasing. She had become frightened of him and kept her distance. She is a really fast runner, so her tact was always to stay out of his reach because he was a great deal bigger than she is.
Previously, he had attacked one of my daughter’s dogs, but her husband (who was a K9 officer) had picked him up and thrown him a couple of yards out while we scooped up the other little dog. I had to know when FedEx or UPS was going to deliver packages at the front gate and make sure the dogs were in the house. Whenever someone came to work at the house, I had to keep him crated. All the rest of the time, he was a sweet, loving, beautiful dog that I knew would protect me with his life. I realized that I always had to keep an eye on him and that I had been orchestrating things on the farm with him in mind. So, it wasn’t just about the new dogs – they were probably the icing on the cake for him. He was driven by his insane jealousy of me and his drive to protect me from everything and everyone. He wanted to be the only dog and the only entity in my universe. There are many more examples, but the point is he snapped and lost all self-control. I did the right thing, no matter how traumatic it felt. He was an absolutely gorgeous dog who I dearly loved. Hindsight is 20/20. I am so thankful and grateful that it was me and not a grandchild.
Are there any lessons in this for me? I’ve raised German Shepherd Dogs for a long time, so I wasn’t a newbie to big aggressive breeds. Should I have stayed out of it? Sure, but other dogs would have died or been seriously injured if I had. The only lesson I can derive from this experience, which is something I already knew, is big, aggressive breed, dogs can be dangerous. They can be the most faithful, loyal, powerful, protectors on earth. They can take on predators such as coyotes, bobcats, and even bears, and tear up a 2- legged intruder. Or they can be a nightmare. I have a friend who recently put their beloved protection dog down for the same offense and that dog was professionally trained at great expense. It’s a risk that I took, and I knew full well the repercussions. So, no, no new lessons in this for me. I know you can’t pass off a dog like that to anyone. You have to manage the risk and deal with it yourself. That’s the only honest thing to do. I am very sad.
Note: In the state of Tennessee, it is perfectly legal to put down a dog and bury them on your property. Particularly if the dog kills livestock or hurts people. That is not true for some other states.
