I’ve finally accepted that I’m no longer the right person for her. She was adopted Saturday by a really nice family with no small children. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
My first dog died in my arms. My second was put down after a wonderful life (for both of us) at the age of 14. And a third after a horrific five years of severe epilepsy. For all three of those dogs I did everything I could have possibly done to keep them healthy and happy. With Creole I feel like I didn’t do enough.
After her bout with pancreatitis last year she developed an intense fear of small children. I spend seven days a week surrounded by small children and it doesn’t make for a good situation. She loves adults, and everyone who meets her loves her back. She really is the sweetest dog I’ve had. But the fear she has of little kids has turned into aggression. My vet is convinced that the pain of the pancreatitis, and her associating that with children, was the spark.
We spent all Friday night playing, went for a long walk at midnight, and then two hours of her favorite activity; lying on the rug getting her stomach rubbed. She’ll have a great home, and it’s the best for both of us, but she has no idea that she’ll never see me again. I feel like I’ve let my best friend down.