Old Dogs & New Pills

Tater is an old dog.  She's one of the best dogs I've ever had.  Yes, she's quirky and she has personality issues, but she's exactly what I need in a dog, and when I first got her, she was absolutely perfect and exactly what I was looking for.  She is a dream on a leash. She knows all her commands and even a few tricks. She wasn't the easiest dog to train, but once she got a command down, it was down pat.

Admittedly, most of her protection job consists of intimidation.  She is huge.  With hackles up and teeth showing she is an impressive sight - she is perfectly capable of protecting me and will do it in a heartbeat, but most of the time that hasn't been necessary due mostly to just the way she looks...in a word, fierce.

She is 12.  12 is ancient for a giant dog.  She is a Lab/Great Dane mix (English types refer to these as *Lurchers*) and kind of looks like a giant brindle lab, weighing around 110 lbs.  She was a rescue dog, and they wouldn't tell me her original background, but I highly suspect it was something along the lines of junkyard dog.  She has quite literally saved me on a couple of occasions. She keeps me and my house and yard safe from invaders. 

Once I even got to say to a potential home invader at the front door, "Meet my alarm system, Tater!"  as she pinned the guy to the wall by his shoulders, and her dripping teeth came out of her mouth just like in the movie Alien as she barked an inch away from his face.  The guy's eyes got big as saucers.   Then of course I had to yell at him, "Don't run, fucker, THE DOG WILL BITE YOU.  Instantly he was like, "Oh, yes ma'am, yes ma'am.  After I called her off him, he was visibly shaking.  Looking back, I'm really surprised he didn't piss himself.

I have big dogs because I am girly and weak and sick and they are my first line of defense, besides being family members.  In fact, unless I am already holding some sort of weapon, they are my only line of defense.  I am THAT weak these days.

I got Rue, the German Shepherd, to take Tater's place for when the inevitable happens, and I have to put Tater down.  Before that happens, Rue has to learn how to do Tater's job.

Today I had a conversation with a long time friend.  This guy has been my friend for more than 20 years.   He has owned several Schutzhund dogs (personal protection dogs) in the past that he himself has trained.  Sometimes we talk about training, but mostly he's just my friend.  Today out of the blue he says, "Why don't you put Tater down?"  I was incensed that he would say that, for starters.  Next, it's not his damned business. 

I asked him why he was so interested in me killing off my dogs.  He said "Well hell, she's 12, she's going deaf, she's getting cataracts, she has arthritis.  Do you need more reasons?"  "Hey," I said, "you're old (he's 56) and you're going a little deaf I noticed. Should I come over there and shoot you for no other reason than that?  "It's not the same thing," he says.  "Of course it is," I argue.

"These dogs are my FAMILY, don't you get it?  Yes, they have jobs to do and they are workers, but they are family before they are anything else.  Even Binky, all 4 lbs of her, even Binky would give her life for me, that's how much heart she has.  I'll know when it's time for Tater.  The time is NOT NOW."

Actually poor old Tater has perked up a lot since Rue came along. Plus, she recently started getting a daily arthritis pill which does help her not be so stiff. Even with stiffness, if there is any perceived threat to me, she runs as fast as she ever did and is right at my side if I need her in a flash. No dirt nap for the Tater dog. Not yet.