On Thursday, it was going so well. Tank seemed to be settling in and relaxing into his new home.
On Friday, I saw him curl his lip at Tori as she came to sit with me when he was already sitting next to me. It was so fast I wasn't even sure I saw it, and I decided to ignore it. He also began resisting my attempts to discipline him, fighting me and mouthing my hand when I tried to get him to sit or lie down.
On Saturday, he curled his lip at Tori again. This time I was sure, and I began to be more careful about keeping Tori away from him.
Saturday night while my mom was babysitting, he jumped the fence in the backyard. Charlie and I came back from trying to see a movie and went searching. We found him about a mile and a half away. Charlie and I vowed to stay in the backyard with him when ever he went out.
Sunday morning, while Charlie was sitting right in the yard with him, he tried to sneak under the fence. When Charlie grabbed him, he snarled and snapped. Charlie covered the hole with a board, Tank broke the board and yanked down half a shrub and finally escaped even while Charlie tried to stop him without getting bitten. He was caught again about a half mile away, and Charlie and Tori went to get him.
Sunday afternoon, Charlie was guiding him into his crate so he and Tori could go play in the leaves in the yard with our neighbors and their kids. Tank turned around and snapped and lunged, snagging Charlie's hand. It was just a scratch, but Charlie was shaken (I wasn't home; Sarah and I were out getting our hair cut for charity). A few minutes later, Tank snapped at Charlie again.
At this point, Charlie was sure: Tank couldn't stay. I didn't want to agree, but I did. This evening, we returned Tank to the shelter. After a long consultation with the manager, they hesitated to just put him down (he has to be held for ten days first) and will consider re-homing him. But they aren't sure.
Neither am I.
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I didn't want to write this post. I know that some of you are thinking, "Thank GOD she took that dog back, he was a pit bull, and something bad was bound to happen." Others of you are empathetic, agreeing that we gave it a good shot but you can't be too sure when a child is involved. Still others are sympathetic but think we may have given up too soon. And a small handful of you are now assured that we are horrible people who clearly should never being allowed to have a dog in the first place because we aren't good owners.
Or maybe you aren't thinking any such thing. I don't know.
What I do know is that when I was telling what had happened with Tank to the staff at the shelter, I started sobbing. I could hardly bear to see him taken back away from me. I thought about how yesterday during Tori's nap Tank got into bed with me and cuddled against me tightly while I read a book. Or how his silly legs looked when he rolled onto his back, or how gently he took a treat from my hand.
But then I kept seeing his curled lip at Tori.
And I thought about the 20,000 dogs that are put to sleep in Philadelphia every week, and how one of them might have deserved the chance we gave Tank, and wouldn't have bit the hand that fed him.
I know we made the right decision. But I feel like unbelievable fucking shit about it.
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The worst thing about this experience is that now Tori has had to lose two dogs in a month. And it's my fault.
In retrospect, I know I wasn't ready to adopt another dog yet. My grief and my longing for having a dog clouded my judgment. If I'm honest with myself, I had a twinge at the shelter about Tank. But I didn't want to leave him there, I didn't want to be yet another picky ass person that holds dogs up to an impossible standard (the standard of Hammer, The Best Dog Ever).
I should have slowed the process down. I shouldn't have put my family through it. And I shouldn't have put Tank though it.
I hope he gets another chance. But if he doesn't, there are plenty of dogs that want to take his place. Both at the shelter and here in our home.
But not now, not in our home. Not for a while.
I'm so sorry, Tank. I'm sorry we weren't the family for you. And I'm sorry you weren't the dog for us. God bless you.
