For the past several weeks, I've been staring down the overgrown shrubbery that surrounds my back patio. The bushes were in desperate need of trimming, and the wisteria from my neighbor's yard was beginning to seriously take over the swing. So I woke up this morning with a mission... it was time to beat back the vines.
Only 10 minutes into the campaign, the battery on the shrubber faltered. While it recharged, I attacked the vines with my clippers. It was almost overwhelming. I was dripping in sweat and had made very little progress. After 30 minutes, I pulled the shrubber off the charger to speed things along. More sweating ensued. I gave up after spending 30 minutes trimming my shrubs, and an hour tangling with the wisteria. One black bag was filled with the remnants of my shrubs. Three were filled with the vanquished vines.
Next week.... the front yard, which will be a much easier task!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Trauma
I was looking forward to a peaceful 4th of July weekend. I left work early, stopped by the library to pick up a book that I had on hold, and took my dog to the park. It was warm out, but I thought it would be nice and quiet at the dog park. There were a few other dogs and owners out. All was good until the bulldogs arrived.
Beau went to potty, and the next thing I knew he was in the center of mass of biting, snarling dogs. One of the bulldogs had a death grip on his right hindquarter. Of course, I reach in the get him out of it. What did the other dog's owner do? Nothing! Just stood there! Didn't even grab his dog to keep her from turning on another dog! The owner followed me out of the enclosure and apologized. He offered to help pay for the vet bill, which I wasn't even thinking about at the moment. All that was going through my mind was my baby was badly hurt, and I needed to get him to the vet.
Beau was shaking in terror. I was hysterically crying. There was blood and shit everywhere. Fortunately, the vet had not yet closed so I was able to rush Beau out there. The injuries were not as bad as they could have been, considering how powerful a bulldog's jaw is. He has four punctures from teeth, and smaller gashes from the claws that held him down. I didn't even notice until the vet tech pointed it out that I had a bite on my hand and another on my face.
I met the bulldog's owner yesterday to get a check for the damages. He told me that the dog that bit Beau belonged to his stepfather, who had recently died. She was elderly, half blind, and had a history of biting. That Friday was her first trip to the dog park. Excuse me???? I couldn't believe that he was irresponsible enough to take a dog with that kind of history to a dog park so she could be unleashed (literally) on other people and their dogs! The owner told me that because of the incident with Beau he was planning to euthanize the dog. I looked him square in the eye and told him that, despite what happened, I did not believe in bad dogs; I believed in bad owners. It was a horrible accident, but it was preventable.
Beau is doing well. His injuries are healing; there is almost now swelling and appears to be no infection. He's learning how to navigate with the cone he's wearing to protect the drain tubes in place at the puncture sites. The drains come out on Tuesday, and the stitches will come the following Tuesday. I have no intention of returning to the dog park anytime soon. I don't want him to fear other dogs, but I no longer feel comfortable taking him there. One bad apple has ruined our experience.
Beau went to potty, and the next thing I knew he was in the center of mass of biting, snarling dogs. One of the bulldogs had a death grip on his right hindquarter. Of course, I reach in the get him out of it. What did the other dog's owner do? Nothing! Just stood there! Didn't even grab his dog to keep her from turning on another dog! The owner followed me out of the enclosure and apologized. He offered to help pay for the vet bill, which I wasn't even thinking about at the moment. All that was going through my mind was my baby was badly hurt, and I needed to get him to the vet.
Beau was shaking in terror. I was hysterically crying. There was blood and shit everywhere. Fortunately, the vet had not yet closed so I was able to rush Beau out there. The injuries were not as bad as they could have been, considering how powerful a bulldog's jaw is. He has four punctures from teeth, and smaller gashes from the claws that held him down. I didn't even notice until the vet tech pointed it out that I had a bite on my hand and another on my face.
I met the bulldog's owner yesterday to get a check for the damages. He told me that the dog that bit Beau belonged to his stepfather, who had recently died. She was elderly, half blind, and had a history of biting. That Friday was her first trip to the dog park. Excuse me???? I couldn't believe that he was irresponsible enough to take a dog with that kind of history to a dog park so she could be unleashed (literally) on other people and their dogs! The owner told me that because of the incident with Beau he was planning to euthanize the dog. I looked him square in the eye and told him that, despite what happened, I did not believe in bad dogs; I believed in bad owners. It was a horrible accident, but it was preventable.
Beau is doing well. His injuries are healing; there is almost now swelling and appears to be no infection. He's learning how to navigate with the cone he's wearing to protect the drain tubes in place at the puncture sites. The drains come out on Tuesday, and the stitches will come the following Tuesday. I have no intention of returning to the dog park anytime soon. I don't want him to fear other dogs, but I no longer feel comfortable taking him there. One bad apple has ruined our experience.
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