5.12.13

Its not wise to upset a Wookiee

Well, in a previous post I alluded to another dog that jumped on our life's train car. Or should I say it really just jumped in our real life car. Probably because I told him to. I was driving home from my grandmother's on May 19th, and there was this little Pekingese walking down the road. Now, it was away from any houses on a lonely stretch of road, and with him being so small I just had to believe that he had somehow wandered away from his home. I knew deep within my heart that someone, somewhere was heartsick and desperately searching for this lost little baby. I know I would be if I lost one of my sweet Boston Terriers. I would want someone to scoop them up, take care of them, and try to get them back to me.

He was SO jolly. So smiley. Soooooooooo cute. Also... So smelly. I will admit that I had a slight apprehension about picking him up and not because of the stink. I have what I like to call the "Wounded dog syndrome." I base this title loosely on a short story by L. M. Montgomery in which the main character had a compulsion to save hurt things, love sad things, try to fix everything for everyone and make things better. This is me, in a nutshell.... and often leads to situations where this meme is appropriate:


I did pick him up, though, turned around, headed back to my grandmother's, and conned her into driving around from house to house with me to see if we could find his owners. 

But... we didn't. And there was no part of me that could leave him where I found him. You may find it  impossible to believe when I say it was impossible. Physically impossible for me. I couldn't make myself leave him. 

So, that led to the little jolly, smiley, cutie coming home with me and stinking up my house even more than the two dogs and two cats already did. 






It was after those adorable pictures, he laid down in the floor. If I so much as walked near him, he let out a low, menacing growl. And thus began the bipolar, Dr. Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde personality. He can be absolutely vicious. And I wonder... is anyone really looking for him? Was he this mean to his owners? Maybe someone decided they were tired of his constantly ripping into their flesh with his snaggle tooth. Maybe he was abused. Maybe he's just crazy. 

I get frustrated a lot because people that hear about him or even the vet (he LOVES going to the vet) think his behavior at home is just a little fussy. Like maybe he gets barky or growly, but he doesn't really mean it. No, he goes beyond what a rabid Rottweiler would act like when he hit the "red zone" on an episode of the Dog Whisperer. 

He's crazy.

But cute. 


This is him at the groomer. We had to take him there to have the matts cut out of his fur since he repeatedly bit me and my Sister-in-law when we tried to clean him up....even though we had pepperoni. Real pepperoni. The groomer said that he was so aggressive that if I took him to the shelter they would euthanize him. Now if he needs to be groomed I have to take him to the vet to get him sedated first. I felt bad that he wanted to kill her, but it was almost a relief for someone to understand what life was like with him on a daily basis. 

We decided to name him Chewbacca because he acted like an angry wookiee... but sometimes he could be so sweet. 



Our household had gone from peaceful with my two precious angel dogs to them hiding under the bed when Chewy started his bouts of terror and rage and I had to respond loudly with "NO!" and trying to manage to wrangle him into a kennel without getting bit and without me touching him. 

No, no spankings... we didn't know what his background was. He could have come from an abusive home, but we did have to establish dominance and boundaries. We had to emasculate him. Literally. 


So, he was neutered in hopes that would calm the rage. 

It did help his bad habit of getting so possessive of blankets he wanted to hump that if you walked near him he wanted to bite your leg off. (Which was a huge problem because his favorite place to do his manhood business was in front of the bathroom door.)

Today our days are a little calmer, but we still battle his rage... just maybe not on a daily basis anymore. Maybe it's every other day now. That's such an improvement. 

And the sweet times are starting to outweigh the scary times. 

He finally learned to play like a doggy and has fun with my Bostons now. 

And sometimes he likes to sleep on my face.

We are still working on teaching him not to pee on our pillows, but I have a lot of fun making memes out of his cute face and bad behavior. 



There is still a part of my heart that in spite of the state of the word we live in believes that there has to be hope in humanity. As much as it hurts me now to think of giving him up, I have to believe there is someone out there hurting more because they miss him, they really love him, and he really is psycho and they dealt with it just as lovingly as we try to do. So, share this blog and any future ones that I may write about him... just in case. 

That is really scary for me to even write because he has snarled, clawed, and viciously burrowed his way into our hearts.... Wounded Dog Syndrome has kicked in. I love him more because he needs help learning to be loved and balanced. 




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