Pedro Update
Many, many thanks to those that posted in my last entry and are sending well-wishes to Pedro. He'll need them, and his human is very touched, as well.
So, what happened, exactly? It still just boggles my mind because it happened so *fast*, but here goes my summary.
It's been raining all day, and when it finally dried up and cleared off, I realized I ought to take Pedro out for walkies before I went to work to do some prep for Monday. Usually when I'm walking him, I wander up and down the streets around here, which are beautiful, old, and tree-lined. It's generally a nice neighborhood, so I feel safe enough talking on my cell phone at the same time. I was discussing little stuff with my dad when I hit a corner about a block away from our house. Literally a block.
Suddenly, this short-haired, large mahogany-brown dog comes loping across the street from out of nowhere. I remember such inane details, like how glossy his fur was. He seemed to be a Boxer type dog, but less white than you often see and a long tail. Not cropped, perhaps? Heh, yeah, inane details. Funny how time slows down when trauma is occurring. Or about to.
Pedro's been nipped at by large dogs before, but I usually pick him up if they look aggressive. This one seemed bold, but I was on the phone and thought, "Maybe he just wants a sniff." He wanted more. He wanted Pedro for his FUCKING LUNCH. The dog literally bent down and picked Pedro up around his middle IN HIS MOUTH. Yes, his jaws were wrapped around my baby. He lifted Pedro off the ground and then shook him back and forth, as if Pedro were a rag doll. By this time, Pedro was yelping in pain and I was screaming in fear, which, unfortunately, was the last thing my dad heard before I dropped my phone and the line went dead (he somehow had the immense patience and reserve to wait until I called him back 30 minutes later - I wouldn't have been able to wait, I tell ya :P).
I kept screaming and trying to yank ineffectively at my retractable leash, but I was terrified to go too close for fear of being bitten myself. I was sure Pedro's neck or back would be broken or he'd be, quite literally, bitten in two before I made the other dog let go. But suddenly, he did. Just dropped Pedro and loped off the way he'd come, as if he'd lost interest. No one came out to see what I was screaming about. No doors opened or faces appeared in windows. That I could see. Shocking, no? :P
I wanted to go find the dog's owner and tell him /OFF/, but I had a bleeding, yelping dog at my feet. I was just so relieved he was /alive/, and I picked him up in my arms and began walking quickly back to the house. He yelped the whole way, but I was happy to let him. At least he /could/ scream. To me, every yelp meant he was still alive, which I could barely believe. The minute I got up the steps of my house, I started calling for my roommate, Kaylee, who was amazing. She called the emergency vet, found out where to go and then drove Pedro and me in my car to said vet. I was certainly in too much of a wretched state to do so.
The vet was calm and collected and competent. He gave Pedro morphine, which made him throw up on me, but I didn't care. He was alive to throw up. I just couldn't get over how WEIRD the whole situation was, how unreal. Here we were, walking along and BOOM. But the vet assured me he had no punctured lungs, his heartbeat was strong, and he would just need sutures. Lots of sutures. I left Pedro in his care for two hours, and Kaylee and I returned home to wait.
About four hours ago, at 6pm, I went back to the vet and picked him up. While in surgery, they'd had to muzzle him because it had hurt him so much he wouldn't stop yelping. They had to shave his side, which is now bruised to heck with clear teeth marks showing. He had four open wounds from the dog's canines, I'm guessing, the worst of which were three inches long and had the subcutaneous layer showing when I dropped him off. They've been stitched up, but to help it heal, the vet put rubber tube 'drains' in him, and a large blue cloth collar around his neck to keep him from licking. I will have to clean his drains out morning and evening. Right now, he yelps when I even brush them. I also have to give him antibiotics and pain medication twice a day.
When I got him home, he just cowered in a corner. He stayed in his kennel while I went to work for a bit, and when I got home, he was shaking again from the chill. It's raining again, you see. I finally got him tucked in with a dryer-heated blanket and I think he's sleeping now. He's been dripping blood and bodily fluids from the drains, but the blankets are bleach-/washable.
In about five days I have to take him back to the vet. Not sure how much that'll cost, but the emergency surgery, medicine, and all today was over $300. Don't really have the money for that right now. Clearly, I'd pay anything to keep him healthy. But this wasn't his fault, or mine. It isn't /FAIR/. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No rhyme, no reason. Is this anger, this helplessness, some small part of what victims of drunk drivers must feel?
I don't hate the dog that did this. He was just a dog. But I do /hate/ his owners, or whoever should've been fucking responsible for him. THEY should be euthanized. The dog ought to just be contained. Forever and ever. And yes, I notified the police. They took my information and said animal control would get in touch with me tomorrow. Because honestly, I mean, how long will it be before he attacks another dog? Or a /child/???
I tell you one thing...If they or I ever find out who owns that dog...well...
YOU DON'T FUCKING /TOUCH/ MY DOG AND EXPECT TO LIVE, BITCHES! IT IS SO ON.
This is still all so unreal. ;_;
So, what happened, exactly? It still just boggles my mind because it happened so *fast*, but here goes my summary.
It's been raining all day, and when it finally dried up and cleared off, I realized I ought to take Pedro out for walkies before I went to work to do some prep for Monday. Usually when I'm walking him, I wander up and down the streets around here, which are beautiful, old, and tree-lined. It's generally a nice neighborhood, so I feel safe enough talking on my cell phone at the same time. I was discussing little stuff with my dad when I hit a corner about a block away from our house. Literally a block.
Suddenly, this short-haired, large mahogany-brown dog comes loping across the street from out of nowhere. I remember such inane details, like how glossy his fur was. He seemed to be a Boxer type dog, but less white than you often see and a long tail. Not cropped, perhaps? Heh, yeah, inane details. Funny how time slows down when trauma is occurring. Or about to.
Pedro's been nipped at by large dogs before, but I usually pick him up if they look aggressive. This one seemed bold, but I was on the phone and thought, "Maybe he just wants a sniff." He wanted more. He wanted Pedro for his FUCKING LUNCH. The dog literally bent down and picked Pedro up around his middle IN HIS MOUTH. Yes, his jaws were wrapped around my baby. He lifted Pedro off the ground and then shook him back and forth, as if Pedro were a rag doll. By this time, Pedro was yelping in pain and I was screaming in fear, which, unfortunately, was the last thing my dad heard before I dropped my phone and the line went dead (he somehow had the immense patience and reserve to wait until I called him back 30 minutes later - I wouldn't have been able to wait, I tell ya :P).
I kept screaming and trying to yank ineffectively at my retractable leash, but I was terrified to go too close for fear of being bitten myself. I was sure Pedro's neck or back would be broken or he'd be, quite literally, bitten in two before I made the other dog let go. But suddenly, he did. Just dropped Pedro and loped off the way he'd come, as if he'd lost interest. No one came out to see what I was screaming about. No doors opened or faces appeared in windows. That I could see. Shocking, no? :P
I wanted to go find the dog's owner and tell him /OFF/, but I had a bleeding, yelping dog at my feet. I was just so relieved he was /alive/, and I picked him up in my arms and began walking quickly back to the house. He yelped the whole way, but I was happy to let him. At least he /could/ scream. To me, every yelp meant he was still alive, which I could barely believe. The minute I got up the steps of my house, I started calling for my roommate, Kaylee, who was amazing. She called the emergency vet, found out where to go and then drove Pedro and me in my car to said vet. I was certainly in too much of a wretched state to do so.
The vet was calm and collected and competent. He gave Pedro morphine, which made him throw up on me, but I didn't care. He was alive to throw up. I just couldn't get over how WEIRD the whole situation was, how unreal. Here we were, walking along and BOOM. But the vet assured me he had no punctured lungs, his heartbeat was strong, and he would just need sutures. Lots of sutures. I left Pedro in his care for two hours, and Kaylee and I returned home to wait.
About four hours ago, at 6pm, I went back to the vet and picked him up. While in surgery, they'd had to muzzle him because it had hurt him so much he wouldn't stop yelping. They had to shave his side, which is now bruised to heck with clear teeth marks showing. He had four open wounds from the dog's canines, I'm guessing, the worst of which were three inches long and had the subcutaneous layer showing when I dropped him off. They've been stitched up, but to help it heal, the vet put rubber tube 'drains' in him, and a large blue cloth collar around his neck to keep him from licking. I will have to clean his drains out morning and evening. Right now, he yelps when I even brush them. I also have to give him antibiotics and pain medication twice a day.
When I got him home, he just cowered in a corner. He stayed in his kennel while I went to work for a bit, and when I got home, he was shaking again from the chill. It's raining again, you see. I finally got him tucked in with a dryer-heated blanket and I think he's sleeping now. He's been dripping blood and bodily fluids from the drains, but the blankets are bleach-/washable.
In about five days I have to take him back to the vet. Not sure how much that'll cost, but the emergency surgery, medicine, and all today was over $300. Don't really have the money for that right now. Clearly, I'd pay anything to keep him healthy. But this wasn't his fault, or mine. It isn't /FAIR/. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No rhyme, no reason. Is this anger, this helplessness, some small part of what victims of drunk drivers must feel?
I don't hate the dog that did this. He was just a dog. But I do /hate/ his owners, or whoever should've been fucking responsible for him. THEY should be euthanized. The dog ought to just be contained. Forever and ever. And yes, I notified the police. They took my information and said animal control would get in touch with me tomorrow. Because honestly, I mean, how long will it be before he attacks another dog? Or a /child/???
I tell you one thing...If they or I ever find out who owns that dog...well...
YOU DON'T FUCKING /TOUCH/ MY DOG AND EXPECT TO LIVE, BITCHES! IT IS SO ON.
This is still all so unreal. ;_;