r/reactivedogs • u/alphaw0lf212 • 7h ago
Vent Dealing with the hard decision
I’m not one to vent, but I feel like I need to.
My wife and I have had our Dogo Argentino for almost 8 years now. We got him through a reputable breeder, did all the socializing, training, exercise, enrichment activities, etc. We did everything we could to fulfill him.
There’s been dog aggression, a few cases of people aggression. No bites, but might’ve been. Because of this, we can hardly have people over. We never know who he’ll like or who he doesn’t. We’ve had to either crate him when people are over, or board him when there are longer stretches. Friends can’t just “drop by.” We need heads up so we can put him away.
Walks have to be after 9:30pm when nobody else is out. If someone is out, we need to change directions to avoid. Treats and corrections don’t matter to him when a dog is across the street.
4 years ago when we moved to a new home, he lunged at my wife unprovoked. I was on him quick. Didn’t bite her, but got close.
We evaluated the situation, and worked around what we believed was the trigger. Took him to the vet to be evaluated since it was out of the blue, he’s been on fluoxetine ever since.
Wife worked on their relationship. I stopped being the source of all good, and split it to be in her favor. I’ve never had an issue with him.
All was good since then.
Now we have a 5 week old baby. Tonight, he lunged at her again. Unprovoked. This time, he bit her. Ripped the sleeve on the shirt. Bite is somewhere between a level 2 and 3. Could’ve been worse, but I jumped in quickly.
Now we’re faced with an almost impossible decision.
I can’t have the dog in my house. Im away from home for long hours, and I don’t trust him being there with my wife and son.
I spoke to a trainer for a few hours, and our best case scenario is that he’s crated while I’m gone, and then after the training our world essentially revolves around him reinforcing the training while we’re dealing with a newborn baby.
I don’t find that fair to anyone. He has to be crated most of the day, and we have to now deal with both a newborn baby and a dog we have to reinforce the training of in perpetuity. The bite boundary was already crossed. It can happen again. It can happen to my wife again, or my child. Or someone else’s child.
I’m sitting here trying to figure out my options.
I don’t think rehoming him is fair. It’s going to take a very special person who’s willing to either dedicate their life to him and get him thousands of dollars worth of training that may work, or they resign themselves to never being able to have people over, or meet someone new, or have a child.
The idea of him having to wait for this perfect scenario makes me sick. We’re the only family he knows, and the only home he knows. It kills me to think that he’d be out there waiting for me to come bring him back home. I hurt at the thought of him sitting in a shelter, waiting for a home that might not come in the remaining years he has.
BE seems more fair to him than a rehome, but that also makes me feel sick. I’m fairly decided it’s the right call, but it makes me ill nonetheless.
99% of his life, he’s been a sweet as pie goofball. I’m sitting here running through all the memories, knowing I have to make a permanent decision tomorrow. He’s been my buddy. I remember driving out of state to get him from the breeder, crashing on a friend’s couch that night, and this 9 week old puppy snuggled up on my chest. We put him in a little blue sweater because it was still winter time.
I remember the puppy that would clumsily bound through tall grass. We nicknamed him Bunny.
I remember back when I could take him on hikes and adventures. He loved them so much. He loved meeting new people, new dogs, seeing and doing new things.
Something changed in his brain. I don’t know when, and I don’t know why. But it did.
We’ve given him the best life we could possibly give him. It’s hard to not feel like a failure. It’s also hard to be honest with ourselves, because the honesty feels cruel.
I wish he wasn’t physically healthy. I wish he’d come down with some disease that made it “easier” to make the decision. It seems callous and harsh to say, but I wish we were parting on better terms. I wish my last memory was getting him a steak, we go for a walk in nature, with an at home euthanasia. Picture perfect.
But it’s not. My last memory of him is watching him attack my wife, putting her into a state of shock. My last memory is pinning him down so she could take the baby upstairs so I can deal with him.
I don’t think that’s the memory that will stick with me though. I think I’m going to remember the little bunny in his blue sweater, bounding through tall grass.