For those of you that don't know, over the summer my dog's life changed forever. It was a very emotional time for my whole family, and it's still a touchy subject. It's definitely easier to write about that it is to talk about.
As a thirteen year old, I adopted my very own puppy from the Animal Protective League. With joy and determination, I took on the huge responsibility of caring and paying for my tiny, brown, anorexic dog that I named Shep. I wanted to prove to my parents that I could completely care for my own dog, which included paying for all of his vet bills, training, and food. After a year, Shep began to fill out and his bones could no longer be seen poking against this skin. His coat came in gold and clean. I took him through training classes; he was quick and extremely smart. Because of all of the time I spent with him, Shep became my best friend.
The summer after I adopted Shep I started noticing that he was afraid of everything, including thunder, laughter, and television. Seeing my seventy-five pound, German shepherd mix shake like a leaf and pant so hard just because kids outside were playing basketball, broke my heart. Shep was so innocent, lovable, and playful, I felt so bad that he feared the world. The third summer after I adopted Shep a horrible incident occurred. My dad had Shep outside while he was packing our boat for our vacation scheduled for the next day, when a young man and his father walked ran by. The father was known to be very mean and hard headed, and he had even yelled at Shep a few times for barking. Shep ended up running through three electric fences and he bit the young man’s leg. As the police showed up, I arrived home from the grocery store not knowing what was happening. I got out of the car and heard words screamed by the father such as “the dog needs to be destroyed” and “we need an ambulance.” Fortunately, the police were on our side and said an ambulance was not necessary since the bite didn’t break the skin, and my dog was not put to sleep. I was devastated. I felt like a failure because it was my dog that caused that man pain. He had the right to be upset, but the father went overboard.
The consequence is that Shep must always wear a muzzle and he must be on a leash that is no longer than four feet anytime he goes outside. We have to have a sign in our window saying “DANGEROUS DOG ON PREMISES.” I have to see it every single day and it took me about a month not to cry every time I saw it. Although the sign is bad, the thought of Shep never running free in a field, catching a ball outside for the rest of his life, is even worse. I don’t think I will ever stop crying at the thought of that. I understand my dog did wrong, but I don’t think it is fair that one afternoon has to affect the rest of his life. He is a dog; natural instinct comes with the package of owning any animal.
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