In late 2012 I had acquired a new dog I named Perro, an
Australian Cattle Dog, aka a Blue Healer.
Tami had found him. I took him
because Tami had too many animals. He
had belonged to some Spanish fellows, and they had been trying to get rid of
him. He was such a bad dog, they were
planning on putting him down. I never
could properly say his name. So I named
him Perro, the Spanish word for dog. At
first he only spoke Spanish. He had
never been in a house before. He was
terrified to come in the first few days.
It was only later that we would find out how severally abused he had
been.
Perro could at times be a very good dog. Then a switch would flipped in his brain and
he would attack. He had been raised on a
horse farm, and he kept attacking the million dollar thoroughbreds. He was trying to herd them, by biting them in
the leg. He was beaten for that,
often. He would be beaten so badly one
time, he defecated on himself. We would
learn later, that if you do not properly train one these dogs from an early
age, they kind of go nuts. They are not
for a first time dog owner. I believe
Perro had brain damage from his abuse.
We later found out that his original name meant Devil dog.
Perro would bite my goats and not let them go. They would just scream out in pain and not
let them go no matter how much I screamed at him, or threatened to beat
him. It was no simple nip in the
heals. He often broke the skin. Our goat herd was large that year. We were running about 14 head at the
time. I would turn them out to graze,
and go about my day. They would just
take themselves across the highway, to the fire station and start grazing in
the woods over there.
One day we went to round them up, taking Perro with us. I had hoped he would herd them for us. He didn’t he just ran around biting
them. Tami and I were riding on the back
of the truck, and I had my leg hanging from the tailgate. Perro was happily following behind us. Suddenly he reached up and bit me in the leg,
and threw my jeans he drew blood. The only reason he didn’t take a whole chunk
out of me, was because his bottom teeth tried to bit threw my boots, and could
not get thru. I knew I in trouble. I was bleeding, but I had to cowgirl up and
go on. My goats took priority.
We were able to get the heard back across the road and in
the pen. By that time I am hurting
pretty bad. “Jay I’m in trouble,” I
said. And I dropped my jeans, in front
of Tami, god and everybody. I was
pouring blood at that time. Tami was
shocked and ran for medical supplies.
Jay was pissed and fussed me.
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” he scolded me. I told him we had to get the herd safe
first.
The wound was bad enough that taking me to the hospital was
discussed. I told them, “No. If they find out it’s a dog bite they will
put Perro down. It’s my fault for what
he did. I should not have been dangling
my leg.” Thank the gods Jay is a trained
medical assistant and first responder.
He patched me up, and although I was sore for a few days, the two deep
punctures I received, healed up nicely.
My goats continued to go across the road, every time I let
them out. The cops were nice about it
the first 10 or 15 times they were out here.
In March of 2013, the livestock man came to my house. He is in charge of arresting people for
livestock violations. He drives a truck
with a fifth wheel attachment in the bed, to hook up the goose neck trailer to
take your animals away from you. He is a
regular police officer with a gun, handcuffs and everything else.
He’s a bit terrifying.
He came to my house to discuss my goat problem. He told me, “If I have to come back out here
again I will take all your goats, and it will cost you $75 a head to get them
out.” And he looked around at my dogs,
who are free roaming, and said what terrified me most, “and I’ll take your dogs
too.” I kind of lost it after that. I went into a suicidal depression for several
weeks. I jumped at every sound. I was terrified he was here to take my fur
kids from me.
We continued to have goat problems. We put up a fence, and the goats just jumped
threw it. At some point that year Jay
and I were both separately slapped with a lose livestock fine. In August of that year I gave away most of my
heard. I kept Star, Kali, Bridget and
Dagda, because they never went across the road.
In September I had to go to court and plead guilty to a
misdemeanor. One of the scarcest things
I had ever done.
Perro’s attitude never improved. He often wanted to nibble or give love bites
to people. He never got any better. He had tried love and we had tried whooping
him. I would not keep him confined or
chained up. That is no life for an
animal. We did not know what else to
do. Perro was becoming a danger. He was still biting the goats. I never knew if he would bite me again. I never knew if he would suddenly decide to
bite someone else. What if he bit a
child? I was also feeling a lot of
pressure from D & K to put him down.
Perro was unpredictable and a liability.
Jay and I made the decision to put him down. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever
done. I have never had to put down a
perfectly health dog for mental issues.
In the end I could not be in the room with him when it was done, and we
did not bring him home to be buried. I
wonder if he hated me for that. Felt
abandoned. I hope one day he can find it
in his heart to forgive me and return to me in a new body.
Perro taught me a very important lesson. You can’t save every dog. Some dogs are just too far gone from, abuse,
trauma, bad breeding, etc. That doesn’t
mean we should not try, I just think we shouldn’t be devastatingly angry at
ourselves, if we try our best, and it does not work out. Sometimes we are just not the right home, the
right owner, or the dog is not the right breed for you. I often still kick myself, thinking that I
did not do enough for him. I wonder if someone who knew more about his
breed, could have pulled him though this and made him change.
I recently journeyed to Holda’s Garden. I wanted to check on some of my goats who had
passed over. Holda told me the pasture
was around the bend, and so it was. Just
past her house, down the dirt road, thru a grove of trees I found the
pasture. Sitting among my goats was
Perro, watching over them. I did not
expect to see him there. He came to me,
and gave me love. He told me that he had
had, “a broken brain.” He told me he was
all better now and his job was to watch over the goats. I told him again how sorry I was about
putting him down. He said he didn’t
blame me, and assured me again he was alright.
I am glad he is there with them, doing what he loves. Even if it may all be just in my head.
Ilsa
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