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Learning Life
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Ezoic
2010-06-30 04:31:36 (UTC)

June 20, 2010 my dog died

Amazing how much I loved him. I told him that everyday,
too. I was so angry the day he died, though.
He was a red-nosed pitbull. An absolutely gorgeous dog that
everybody loved after getting to know him. I must admit I
was somewhat scared of him at first. My husband stole him
pretty much. He found him chained (literally, chains) to a
truck in a parking lot during one of the hottest summers in
recent history. When he brought him home I thought the
emaciated dog was a brindle. He had so many scars on him I
was afraid he could get viscious. Turns out he was just
that dirty because he ended up being tan and white. We
think he was one of those dogs they used to get the
fighters ready.

Oh how precious he was. He was a dork in a body builder's
body. He got asthma when he became too excited, he had a
hard time seeing some things, and he had a horrible over
bite. He was a goober but he was My goober.
I got to dote on him for 3 wonderful years. He helped me
through some very tough times.

He ran away once before. I didn't have time to get him
fixed soon after we got him. He found out that our front
door sucks if it isn't dead bolted. I was frantic until I
found out he was picked up by the pound. When I went to
pick him up they took me in a separate room from all the
other dogs. In the back room behind the metal cages was my
beautiful boy amongst the other "killer" pit bulls. They
said I was lucky because pits have a death sentence in my
county. They only get 3 days for their owner to claim them
before they are put down. No adoption for bully breeds.
After paying the fee and signing paperwork, needless to
say, I had the time to get him fixed and outfitted with a
leather collar and dog tags. Nobody would mistake him for a
stray if I had anything to do about it. They would know he
was loved and missed.

He did everything he could to please me. Oh believe me he
gave me the "look" but he did it any way. He hated swimming
and wasn't very good at it so I bought him a doggie life
vest. He would swim to me even if he knew how to get out.
He wanted to please me that much. He would let me put wigs
and Rudolph antlers on him even though everything in him
told him they made the best chew toys. I taught him Spanish
and how to play hide and seek. He thought if a bunny went
hiding that it was hiding up top where Mommy hides all the
good stuff. He would suck on his stuffed toys as if they
were his security blanket. Or he would chew on a tennis
ball and close his eyes as if it was the best tasting gum
in the world. He was everything to me.

When I had a miscarriage, he would lay on my stomach to
help ease the pain. When my other dog died on May 7th he
wouldn't leave my side for a minute. He even sat by the
bathroom door but only because I wouldn't let him in. Then
I left my husband. He got the house and I got the dog. I
always believed I was getting the better deal.

June 20th he and my brother's dog got out of the yard and
were not responding to my mother's calls. They were being
so bad. I fumed for 3 1/2 hours while riding my emotional
rollercoaster. What if he got picked up again? Would they
keep him this time and put him down? What if he went into a
nearby farm? Would he get shot just for being a pit bull?
Nobody will know what a good dog he was. They wouldn't even
look at his dog tag to see his name.

I got a call asking if I was the owner of Zeus. Elation and
relief filled me but calmly I said yes and waited for her
to go on. She said he was hit by the car in front of her. I
asked if he was okay. She said he didn't look good. Panic
took over as directions were vaguely given. Tears blinded
me as I sped 7 minutes down the road. He's alive kept
getting screamed within my skull. Blue lights showed me
where my baby was. I parked the car too far away and had to
run to the bloody body of my little boy. His eyes didn't
move. His tail didn't wag at the sight of me like it always
did. I could hear the horrible sobs and barely contained
screams coming from my throat. Nothing mattered but the
lifeless body of my Zeus. 6 cars stopped for my baby
and I had no clue why he wasn't alive. If 6 cars saw him
dead, why didn't that one car see him alive?

I believe that day my dog saved the life of my brother's
dog. She had gotten hit that day also. Zeus was in front of
her. She acted traumatized for a couple of hours and walked
stiffly with bruising on one side of her body. I was not
fully aware of my surroundings but my mother says that 13
people were there at my baby's death. Some crying, some
giving comfort to those who needed it. There was so much
blood. I was in shock and tried desperately to clean him
off because he was never dirty. Not since the day my
husband brought him home. I was too devastated at the time
to understand what the 13 others' presence meant. I know
now what it truly means to me. Zeus died knowing he was
loved. They knew his name and they knew he wasn't a stray.


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