That, combined with his penchant for attacking the TV everytime there was an animal, roughousing with Nala every evening, and a primal urge to attack and destroy every other 4-legged creature we saw outside the house made him a challenge.
Last Thursday, though, he went a little too far. He's gotten aggressive when we've had to take things away before (see defrosting meat in previous paragraph) and snapped or growled. This time, after killing the neighbor's pet duck, Jeff went to take it away and Renegade had a fit. Growling, barking, lunging, and snapping at Jeff until Jeff kicked his side. That was it. I heard it and ran out because I was worried he was attacking our other dog - but no, it was Jeff. I knew we had to get him out of the house and immediately began researching some shelters. He's a challenge, for sure - but I wanted him to have the best chance at a good life with someone who had knowledge and resources we did not. We had tried everything we could think of to curb those behaviors and establish an alpha - dominating, removing privileges, timeouts, you name it. Nothing had helped and some of those issues had been getting markedly worse over the last couple years.
To my dismay, none of the shelters I could find were excited about receiving an aggressive dog with known biting issues and the ones I did find would likely put him down.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that we had to put him down. I couldn't rehome him - because if I was afraid of him hurting my son, I couldn't live with myself if he hurt somebody else's babies.
I called the vet and made the appointment and after a text conversation with Jeff (who was at work), I told him, "He has an appointment to go to sleep at 3. If you don't tell me otherwise, I will go be with him."
He said, "Ok."
It was the longest day of my life and I ugly cried through most of it. Why, if he was so annoying and difficult, was I so sad? I'm sure that's something most of my family and friends have wondered.
It's because I picked him out of hundreds of craigslist ads from a lonely hotel room in San Antonio after moving a thousand miles away from home and trying for a baby for several months. I had started to figure out that having kids was going to take longer than we thought, I didn't have a job, friends, or family to occupy myself with, and I needed something to nurture and have with me in my new home.
When I saw his picture, I fell in love. He had a spunky little expression and was this tiny, skinny, spotted puppy sitting on a couch. Done. I had to have him. After a little finagling, I went to get him and spent his first two days in a hotel room. He became the baby I so badly wanted (no, I'm not equating having dogs with kids but a dog was the very closest approximation I could reach at the time) and I took him on walks, and runs, and got up with him several times a night, cooked him meals when his poor little digestive system couldn't handle dog food for the first month and loved him. He was my baby and for the first three years of his life, went on runs, car rides, store trips, road trips, and family vacations us. He had an enthusiasm for life that I've not seen matched by any other person or animal and an almost tangible appreciation for simple things - a blanket, a nap on the porch on the first warm days in spring, a car ride sitting in the front seat.
When I was pregnant, he assumed the role of guard dog and followed me around everywhere. Anyone, even my mom who he loved, got a friendly warning if he felt they got too close to me. He protected our home and family like his life depended on it from anything - even garbage trucks.
All that said, the hours leading up to his appointment were the longest and most awful and I don't say that to be dramatic. I knew full well I was going to end a young, healthy life for a reason that might not exist if I had been better trained at handling dogs, or if someone else had taken him home that day. I knew that by having a human baby, I had forever altered his place in our family and would never not put my child ahead of the dog that carried me through those years of heartache and loneliness. I felt like I was taking the easy way out and discarding him. And that felt terrible.
I don't want to talk about the actual event because it was traumatic but I will just say that he knew what was happening and he fought with everything he had. That was the worst thing ever and holding him down and crying into his neck were among the most painful moments of my life.
I prayed to know if I was doing the right thing and seemingly didn't have an answer right up until 20 minutes before the appointment. I had been trying to figure out how to take Cade with me and also give Renegade my attention and love and was stressing out until my sister - who left work and showed up unexpectedly rang my door bell. A few minutes behind her, my mother-in-law had dropped everything and made it to my house in record time when hearing that Jeff was at work and couldn't be with us. I had someone to watch Cade, and someone to be with me and that was the confirmation that I needed. I prayed that Renegade would go quickly and be greeted on the other side with a life that he deserved and off we went.
I miss that dog in the weirdest moments, like vacuuming and realizing I'm only going to be cleaning up half the fur. Coming home from errands and listening to him "talk" to us. Seeing him lean around the corner and bark and run away when he wants to show us something. Him laying by my feet when winding down at night. I just miss him. The house is really quiet now.
Anyways, this is my tribute to the dog that I hope to see again someday. I really hope all dogs go to heaven and I hope I get to have him with us when we get up there.
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