Even harder

It started shortly after we got Bailey.  If she would sneak one of the kids' toys or a piece of food and Anna would try to get it back, Bailey would growl, snap, and sometimes bite Anna.  I think there were five, maybe six, major incidents, but the few bites were always when Bailey had puppy teeth, so they only left scratches.

I had worried about it, I even thought we might have to give her up, but we consulted a vet and a trainer.  Both told us that most of it, if not all of it, was normal puppy stuff.  We were given strategies, which we tried, but it didn't get better.  

In retrospect, it actually got worse. After a while, when Anna would pet her, Bailey would sometimes growl and snap for no apparent reason.

And then Bailey was attacked by her sire.  We put all our energy into nursing her back to health, but Dave and I had to wonder if some of the aggressive behavior she was displaying was genetic.  We called our vet and he assured us that what the father did was hormone driven, and what Bailey was doing was puppy behavior.  He suggested strategies to work on with her, but they were all things we'd already been doing.

Then a week after Bailey's accident Anna went down to pet Bailey, and Bailey growled and tried to bite her face.  I saw the whole thing.  Bailey had been just standing there, Anna had just reached over to pet her neck.  Thank God Bailey had been wearing a cone.  The cone is the only reason Anna's cheek wasn't bit.  I was scared out of my mind.  I consulted a vet and and my friend Meghan, who is a vet tech, and they both told us it was just because Bailey was in pain and on medication.

Last week we went out of town.  We wanted to bring Bailey with us, but we'd already paid for a non-refundable cabin months ago, and it didn't allow dogs.  We couldn't stand the thought of boarding poor Bailey, so we left her with my friend Meghan, the vet tech and the biggest animal lover I know.  While at her house, Bailey was chewing on a toy on the floor beside the couch when Meghan's one-year-old slid down from the couch, near the toy, and Bailey bit into her foot.  She had two puncture wounds, one really deep, and a scrape on the bottom of her foot.  I was sick.  This poor innocent toddler, bleeding and in pain because of my dog.  Despite our insistence that she should take Bailey to a kennel, Meghan kept her at her house.  The next day, Bailey growled and snapped at her son, who got his hand out of the way just in time, and growled at her other daughter.

We spent days thinking about this.  Meghan believed Bailey's behavior was because Bailey's attack was so recent and she was in a new environment.  We wanted to agree, with every ounce of our hearts, but we were nervous because of past events.  We consulted two veterinarians.  One vet said we needed to do intensive training, and she would probably get better, because she's so young and malleable.   But, she said, Bailey would never be a dog we can just let play with our kids unsupervised.  The other vet (the one who did Bailey's eye surgery and who knows Bailey's sire well) told us we simply had to put our kids first, that it was likely that Bailey's behavior was genetic, given that Bailey's father is so aggressive.  Given this information, we decided we probably had to give her up.  We tried to make the decision before we saw her, because we knew it would be too hard, once we cuddled back up to our poor one eyed dog who loves us so much.  Bailey has never done anything aggressive to Dave, and she bit me once, but usually just kisses me like crazy and listens to everything I tell her.  We couldn't finalize the decision.

When I picked Bailey up, she kissed me non-stop.  I started to believe all the excuses we'd previously made.  When I brought her home, Dave decided we needed to give her one more chance.  I wanted to agree, but I was scared.  I asked, "What if that one chance involves Anna getting her cheek bit off?"  He said, "No, even a growl, and she's gone."

Ten minutes after she was home, Bailey growled at Anna.  Dave reasoned that he didn't hear it, so he decided to do some experiments where he had Anna pet her or walk next to her to see if Bailey would growl.  I had no resolve so I let Dave try these things.  While he was around, Bailey was perfect.

After dinner, we were cleaning up, and unpacking from our trip.  Suddenly I heard Anna screaming in the kitchen.  Bailey had bitten her when she went to pet her behind the ears, just like we'd taught her to do.  That was it; we knew what we had to do.  

Bailey has been through a lot, and we love her, but we love Anna infinitely more.  It's our job to protect our kids.  I left a message with the Golden Retriever Rescue of Wisconsin that we needed to surrender her.

The next day, Dave began thinking of alternative solutions.  We could have Anna exclusively care for her so Bailey learns that Anna is also in charge.  Or we could train the kids to leave her alone when she's eating, resting, or playing with a toy, and to give her a wide berth when they walked by her.  We could just impeccably train our kids how to work with Bailey.  And maybe that would work.  But, maybe it wouldn't.  And, what if I have a playdate over and that kid walks the wrong way and Bailey takes a chunk out of her?  Or what if a neighbor kid runs over and Bailey bites him?  It was so hard to forgive ourselves for what happened to Meghan's daughter, but at that point, we had no inclination Bailey would do something like that.  If there's a next time, we can't say that we didn't have a warning. And, other people we've talked to have pointed out that we could possibly get sued, or we could even lose our homeowner's insurance.

So, how do I feel about it?  How do I feel about giving up a dog who I nursed back to health with promises that we'd always love her and take care of her?  How do I feel giving up a dog before her hair has even completely grown back over her sutured-together eyelids?  I feel like a complete ass.  I feel like I'm letting down a creature who looks to me to care for her.  I feel sick.  How do I feel knowing that I'll never see my puppy again, and that I won't even know what happens to her?  So, so sad.  Bailey was my puppy.  Mason always liked Dave more, but Bailey thinks the world revolves around me.  But, I don't have a choice.  I can not put my children or other children in harm's way, not after she's proven she has this, largely unpredictable, aggressive streak.

We explained to our kids that we had to find Bailey a home without children.  They were devastated and angry.  Anna asked why they had to lose two dogs so close together.  Kate told me it was worse than when Mason died. Anna yelled that we lied when we told them we'd keep Bailey forever until she died.  Kate couldn't sleep.

When the Golden Retriever Rescue of Wisconsin called back, they agreed she should be surrendered, but they have a policy against taking dogs who've drawn blood.  I begin to argue for her.  She's five months old.  She's sweet with my husband and me.  I believe with all my heart that she would be the perfect dog for a childless couple or a family with older kids.  But, they wouldn't take her.  We contacted another agency yesterday, and they started the process.  They marked it as urgent.  Luckily, they will be getting her tomorrow afternoon, because while we're waiting, every minute we are reminded of what we're going to do and haven't yet done, like an extremely slow, painful band-aid we have been forced to pull off.