WHEN THE DANCE GOES WRONG:
A DOG WALKER’S NIGHTMARE
Author: Nadine Davison
I live in a Washington D.C. suburb
where walking a dog is like a scripted dance. We all know one
another and the personalities of each dog. We know that when we
encounter some dogs we need to cross the street or turn around,
otherwise there would be a problem.
On a Sunday evening about 9:45 p.m., a participant in the dance
stumbled. The Boxer in question is dog aggressive. We know it. His
owner knows it. His owner, who had married and was on his honeymoon,
had hired a dog sitter. In all fairness, the owner had told the dog
sitter about his dog’s issues; however, the dog is big and the
sitter did not grasp the implications.
So, here is my husband Jerome taking our three dogs (two Standard
Poodles and a Cocker Spaniel) out for their last walk of the day.
When the Boxer saw our dogs, he literally dragged the dog walker
down the sidewalk to get to them; at which point, he grabbed
Snowball (the Cocker) and clamped down. There was screaming,
yelling, and barking! There was such a racket that lights came on
and people came out of their houses. The dogs were parted, and the
dog walker gave my husband her information.
Jerome thought Snowball was okay until he returned to the house,
checked her under a light, and found two huge gashes on her back.
So, at 10:30 p.m., we were off to the animal emergency hospital. Why
do these things always happen at night? And, of course, the
emergency hospital was in the middle of nowhere! Snowball had to
spend the night – they anesthetized her, shaved her back, and found
four bites, two were sutured and drain tubes put in.
We picked Snowball up on Monday morning: I stayed home from work to
play nurse. The veterinarian told us not to put anything on the
wounds and to not let her lick them. She was put on Rimadyl and an
antibiotic. Once home, Snowball was her usual greedy self. And, even
though she appeared stiff, she insisted on trying to keep up with
the other dogs. The two Poodles seemed to understand that something
bad had happened and left her alone. To make sure she was
well-protected, we crated her when we were away from the house.
The following Friday, we returned to the veterinary clinic to get
the drain tubes removed: the sutures will be removed in a few more
days.
The Boxer’s owner is covering all medical expenses. While we are
pretty well-covered, my husband is devastated and feels guilty
because he thinks he did not do enough to keep Snowball from harm.
He said the Poodles tried to come to her defense but that he was
afraid to let them go because it would have been a free-for-all.
The ironic thing is that Snowball was a rescue dog, and we had not
planned on keeping her. We have had Standard Poodles for over twenty
years and were not interested in other breeds. However, Jerome’s
brother decided after seven years that he no longer wanted Snowball
and was going to ship her off to a woman in Pennsylvania who wanted
her because she was “intact.” After being on the Poodle Support
Group forum, I smelled “puppy mill” so we took her, spayed her, and
figured we would find her a new home. That was three years ago. I
think the dog attack has solidified Snowball’s place in the Davison
household.
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