Rhett, young dog person in training, they/them, first time dog owner, artist. Epic, young lab mix from mexico, adopted April 9th 2015, reactive nutcase. Posting dog stuff, art stuff, and random stuff. Rip my darling gorgeous 09/04/2015-16/10/2017, you were mine for 921 days.
i cant think of any words that could really help the pain youre feeling so i drew something. i hope youre hanging in there and recover as well as you can @thedognamedepic <3
Are we allowed to continue reblogging pictures of Epic or do you want us to stop? I want to be respectful and do not know which is the right thing to do. Thank you.
I appreciate the question. If you want to continue to reblog photos of her, that’s fine, I literally posted hundreds of images of her on the internet so there’s no way for me to stop people. But overall I’m okay with it. Epic was an amazing dog, and I hope at least one person is able to see that through her photos.
Thank you guys for the support, thoughts, and well wishes.
It really really hurt saying goodbye, and trying to cope afterwards, but I think it’s okay now. I know it was the right thing to do. Her life would be so stressful right now, and I wouldn’t be able to keep everyone safe.
I really really miss her, but it’s okay.
I don’t think dogs are really in my future, but Epic was a good experience and taught me so much.
From the soonest time I saw this blog, I was told dangerous dogs kill and kill only. I was told dangerous dogs are created. I was told dangerous dogs were only ever “pit bulls”. I was told that no training could ever reach their brains.
But then I found Epic. The prettiest hellhound I’ve ever seen. The smartest hellbound I’ve ever seen. The best damn lady I’ve ever seen.
We didn’t get to experience all of her in her glory. But jm sure she is looking fine as she is in her pictures.
We welcomed our little baby Vizsla, named Coolio, into our family in August 2015. He was the cutest little thing, with his wrinkly face and massive paws, and immediately I was in love.
We were determined to do everything right, from Blake (my husband) getting up every hour during the night to let him out to go to the toilet, to feeding him a raw diet and most importantly ensuring that he was taken on so many adventures with us. Coolio became part of our family, and there weren’t many places that we wouldn’t take him.
During that first week, I took him to our holistic vet in Sydney and was informed that they thought he might have hip dysplasia (not common in the breed) and that he also had a heart murmur which would hopefully go away.
Still, during the first year of Coolio’s life, we had so much fun together. We would always take him around to our families houses for BBQs, and he was the life of the party, so cute and so cheeky. As soon as we would come home or he would meet someone new he would need to go and find a present for them, whether that be his blankie, a toy or a leaf he just found.
He was the perfect dog and the perfect companion and we trusted him implicitly.
Everything was moving along just as we planned. Until it wasn’t.
Suddenly, Coolio started becoming aggressive and possessive over things like the couch, our bed, the beanbag, me and especially his food. If we would be sitting on the couch with him and one of us moved he would bark, growl and lunge at us.
Not wanting to admit that there was an issue, I hoped it would go away by itself. It didn’t, which is when we consulted our vet, a behaviourist and our trainer. It could be dominance aggression, he might be anxious, he could be in pain – to be honest, it was all of these things combined which created the perfect storm.
One night Coolio was in the kitchen (where he knew he wasn’t allowed) when he jumped up on the counter and found a spoon. We heard it crash to the ground, I heard Blake go out to see what was happening and the next thing I hear was screaming.
He came into the bedroom and closed the door – we sat there in silence trying to comprehend the fact that Coolio had just bitten Blake - forcefully. Thankfully he had a thick jacket on, because if he hadn’t we would have been off to the emergency department.
The next incident occurred when he was snuggled up to me on the couch, he had been there for a good 30 mins. I went to rub his belly and he turned and snapped at me. Thankfully he didn’t connect with my face.
Another time my dad, affectionately known to Coolio as “Papa Bear” was over helping us fix things around the house. When dad was leaving we were standing at the front door saying goodbye and Coolio lunged and tried to bite him, completely unprovoked.
Even writing this, I can’t believe we let this go on for as long as we did. If this was someone else’s story I would be saying, “How could you not have done something sooner, he’s dangerous!”
But it’s not someone else’s story; it’s mine, and I was wanting so bad to play happy little families that it clearly clouded my judgement.
We had a couple of holidays booked. The first one was for three weeks and Coolio stayed with our trainer. He had the best time, and not one incident.
The next holiday was for a few days and he was minded by one of my friends who loves dogs and is comfortable and able to handle big dogs. They had a great time; no incidents.
Next time we went away for 10 days and Coolio was again minded by my friend. I didn’t hear from her except when she was sending us cute pics of them on adventures together. No incidents (or so we thought) and this basically helped make up my mind that Coolio was fine.
She came over a few days after we got home. She then told us that there were two significant incidents but she didn’t want to worry us on our honeymoon.
How do you deal when someone tells you that the dog you love with your whole heart bit them? She was clearly upset having to tell me, I was upset having to hear it and it felt as if my world was crashing down. It’s one thing when he attacks us, but I couldn’t let him attack anyone else.
At this point I was 14 weeks pregnant.
We got the trainer over and explained what had happened and he said we had two options, re-home him or put him to sleep. I knew he was right, but I struggled to come to terms with this.
The vet agreed there were two options, the same our trainer gave us.
I just don’t think I could have re-homed him knowing that there is the possibility of him harming someone else.
In his last few days, he saw all his favourite people one last time, ate the most amazing foods and created memories with him that will remind us of how good everything was, before it wasn’t.
Saw this article in the local news today.
I do hope people read it and try to understand those who have been in a situation such as the above, be it for two months or two years, to read and attempt to understand the emotions and thoughts and work that can be happening behind the scene.
I know this is a weird message to send and there's nothing left to say, really. But I wanted to thank you, for sharing Epic with us, for telling her story, and for giving us a small part of your journey. You've worked so hard for her, gone so far with her, and for us, you brought her to life. So thank you so much for that, and even though you made the right choice, I'm so so sorry it ended here.
This makes me cry and I can’t thank you enough.
I have loved sharing Epic’s journey with you guys. Sharing the successes, the support during the lows, learning so much about animal behaviour. I know dogblr has had it’s struggles, there’s always a topic that has everyone divided, but thank you everyone, you’ve taught me so much.
Thank you for following Epic and I, thank you for supporting us, and I’m sorry this is how it ended. It hurts, but now Epic doesn’t have to hurt.
It’s not correcting her as she launches herself at me, biting my arm because she can’t be bothered to grab a toy.
It’s giving her that extra cup of food during feeding time because soon it won’t matter.
It’s breaking down crying because I see her and I know that soon I won’t.
It’s thanking her for putting up with my hugs.
It’s breaking down crying at the front desk even though I promised myself I wouldn’t.
It’s being fine in the room at the vet’s because all I had to think about right then was keeping her entertained while waiting.
It’s petting her with my fingers because she’s not up to being close.
It’s the suddenly gentle nibbles as the anesthesia takes hold.
It’s asking her to lay on the blanket because she’s getting sleepy, and watching as she collapses part way.
It’s giving her a million treats because even though she’s drugged up, the sounds of dogs behind the door concern her.
It’s holding her as they set the needle.
It’s not breathing as they tell me exactly what is going to happen next.
It’s wanting to scream as I pet her, knowing her heart is about to stop.
And suddenly it’s over.
But it’s me, still petting her.
It’s removing her collar, but letting the vet remove her metal collar because I don’t want to feel the dead weight while lifting her head.
It’s the vet saying ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over.
It’s realizing that her chest has lost the heat and her ears have gone cold.
It’s wondering how long it’s acceptable to keep petting her.
It’s whispering ‘good dog’ and giving her two last pats.
It’s standing up and having my heart absolutely break as I see the body of the most amazing thing that’s happened to me, a blanket now wrapped around her, one stubborn ear standing on end.
It’s walking through the waiting room with her collars and leash and muzzle, a black lab enthusiastically greeting me and all I can say is ‘hey buddy’ before leaving.
It’s screaming, and crying, and bashing my head into the car dash.
It’s knowing that I’m never going to see her again.
