It wasn’t all that unusual that I couldn’t get Perdy to eat, but her stubbornness and depression definitely contributed to my anxiety over the weekend. It was clear that Perdy suffered from a pretty severe case of separation anxiety that affected her appetite. If her owner, my ex-girlfriend’s mother, wasn’t home she wouldn’t eat. Even though Perdy’s standard suppertime was at five, unless Marilyn was home she quite often wouldn’t touch her food until the moment Marilyn walked in the door from work. Sometimes she would eat when her son Daniel hot home from school or rugby or band practice, but those occasions were rare.
Perdy’s separation anxiety also manifested itself in the form of destructive behaviour when no one is home or paying attention. After Marilyn and Daniel leave for work and school in the morning and I wake up an hour or so later, Perdy has often already pooped and peed on the dining room carpet, opened all the kitchen cabinets she can reach, eaten all of the cat poop out of the litter box, opened the oven door for no real good reason since there is never anything in there, and if someone forgot to hide the trash, it is strewn all over the kitchen and dining room floors. But Perdy is a good dog; sweet, affectionate, and playful. She simply can’t be left alone for long periods of time.
Since I live with Marilyn and Daniel, it was no trouble at all for me to watch Perdy and to a lesser extent the cat, Neil, who is pretty self sufficient and who’s only real outbursts come in the form of peeing near the front door when she demands her litter be changed and whining for milk every time the fridge is opened. I simply cleared my already nonexistent and empty schedule so Perdy could have someone to hang out and play with while Marilyn and family went to Niagara Falls for a couple of days.
I generally am able to walk Perdy at least once but usually twice every day. Even though I don’t plan on being around that much longer, I have found that routine generally eases Perdy’s anxiety. The shakes and tremors she had as a result of no one being home that I noticed when I first met her had gone away until late Saturday night.
The first part of the day had gone rather smoothly. Perdy and I continued with our normal daily routine despite it being a day when her owners were usually home. We went for our normal walk about the same time we always did. Perdy even said hello to the dogs next door for what seemed like the first time since she had a run in with the leader of their pack.
There are a lot of dogs that live on the farm here, and if one is out they are usually all out. There is Cassie, a large black Newfie looking girl with a Lab-ish face, who has become the leader of the pack since the former alpha dog dies about a year ago. Cassie is so bushy that petting her is like running your hand over thick shag carpeting, Rocky was just as big as Cassie, but older and therefore a lot lower key. I have never seen Rock, who looks like a black, white, and grey version of Lassie, get worked up over anything. Stormy looks just how she is named, bright grey and with a face that gives her a wolf like appearance. Stormy occasionally gets high strung and starts barking and snarling like crazy before Cassie gets involved, says a few words, and shuts Stormy up.
And then there was Vegas, the youngest of the group and Molly’s replacement. Vegas was named after the town in New York she was adopted from and not from any love of gambling on the owner’s part. Vegas was a hound dog and probably judging from her features had a little Rottweiler and Doberman in her. I was never good, as you can probably tell, with eyeballing the lineage of any dogs taller than my knee in height. Vegas was always getting into something and was often admonished for it. All Vegas ever wanted to do was play and she made sure everyone around her knew it. Vegas had a tail like a helicopter that would often whirl around and slap the other dogs in the face so hard it would hurt them if they got too close. Additionally, Vegas was so fast and quiet that she could spring into view at a moments notice and without warning. This always made pulling into the driveway an unnecessary adventure since she could often dart across the lawn and be in front of your car before your could react; even if you started applying the brake when you first saw her, Vegas would be in front of or beside the car before you even had the chance to stop safely.
Perdy, a Border collie and whippet mix that looks kind of like a Dalmatian if you squint, was no slouch in the speed department herself, but could be just as erratic in her behaviour as Vegas, and as such had to remain on a leash or a tether while the other dogs roamed free. The main fear being that since the farm is located between two major highways (the 115 and the 401), Perdy could feasibly run away from us and into traffic without thinking twice.
While Perdy is almost four years old now and traffic seems to scare her more now than it entices her, she still needs to be kept on a leash to keep her from getting into trouble with the other dogs. Quite simply, she is too timid and skittish to play nicely with the big dogs. The incident that led to Perdy having a falling out with the other dogs on the property was a direct result of Vegas not being able to take no for an answer when Perdy didn’t want to play one night while out for a bathroom walk with Marilyn. Vegas bounded over to Perdy and started sniffing and pouncing all over her, and Perdy, who is also terrified of being out in the dark, just wanted to pee and go inside. Vegas was never one to listen to anyone other than her owner and when she wouldn’t leave Perdy alone, she began to snarl and get defensive. This snarling garnered the attention of Stormy, who was insanely protective of Vegas and seemed to be her best friend on the farm. Storm began to race over to Perdy and Marilyn with teeth bared; snarling herself and thinking she had finally found the fight she had been looking for. But before Stormy could reach Perdy, the usually slow and lumbering Cassie was already on the attack. Being twice Perdy’s size, Cassie easily flipped Perdy onto her back and placed her in a choke hold of sorts. Cassie was effectively cutting off Perdy’s air supply by biting her windpipe as hard as she could without breaking skin or drawing blood. Marilyn pulling tautly on Perdy’s leash out of fear probably didn’t help either.
I heard the screaming outside and immediately ran to the door to see what was going on. I froze in the doorway for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only a few seconds. Marilyn and Cassie’s owner, Carol, trying to pry the two of them apart while screaming and crying. Vegas and Stormy circling the fight, teeth bared and at the ready. Rocky had made his way over as well, but being the oblivious, peace lover he always was appeared to be content with eating the hummus and pit off the lawn that Carol had dropped when rushing over to break up the fight.
I froze because since I was twelve any sign of aggression in any dog terrifies me. I always flash back to the day (three days after my birthday) when I was on my way to the supermarket with my mother when a neighbour’s Rottweiler charged at me and without warning latched onto my kneecap and refused to let go, nearly severing it in the process. I never saw it coming and the way it had me I couldn’t even fall backwards or defend myself in any way. I could only watch. It was the only time I ever passed out from the combination of pain and the sight of my own blood.
I snapped out of it and sprang quickly to action once I heard Marilyn scream for me to get a bucket of cold water. Not wanting to wait for a bucket to fill, I ripped the electric kettle that had gone unused that day despite being full from its socket and ran out the front door to douse the dogs. When that didn’t work, Carol took the cord from the kettle and wrapped it around Cassie’s neck to get her to release the grip. Carol didn’t need to apply that much pressure at all to get Cassie to let go.
Once separated, I stood there with the kettle acting like a lion tamer and trying to keep Vegas and Stormy away. Perdy rolled over, shat herself, and panted like a marathon runner. Cassie sauntered away like nothing just happened. I went inside and promptly got as drunk as the last two beers would get me to shake off the shock that nearly paralyzed me outside.
From that point on we all realized that with Vegas in the neighbourhood we needed to keep Perdy on a shorter leash than usual. Seldom would we bring Perdy out during the day if the other dogs were out, and if they were out after dark there was almost no way she would be let out short of a five alarm bladder emergency. It was the start of winter when the incident happened, so the plan was relatively easy to stick to.
It was now officially in both date and temperance spring, and as such keeping Perdy separated was a luxury we could ill afford. Perdy has always liked to laze about in the sun and the warm weather meant that she would have to co-exist with the other dogs if she wanted to keep that up.
The weekend Marilyn and Daniel left was a mixed bag weather wise. Saturday started off with downpours, before giving way to general gloominess around late afternoon when I decided to take Perdy for a walk, and then a hazy sort of sunshine just in time for dusk. The other dogs were out during the gloomy period and for what seemed and felt like one of the first times since the attack, Cassie and Rocky came to partake in a mutual sniff with Perdy while Stormy sat on the porch completely nonplussed. I couldn’t see Vegas anywhere.
By the time we returned from out walk, down the rural road running parallel to Highway 2 as far as the mailbox and back again, it was time for dinner for the both of us. I put the food in Perdy’s dish; she sniffed it and walked away. This didn’t surprise me. Since Marilyn got home from work a little bit after five, I tended to set out food for the pets at about quarter to. Mostly because Neil will meow incessantly to anyone within earshot if she feels her dinner is not being served in a timely and orderly fashion. Perdy would always come when you mention treats or walks, but rarely any other time. She would come, acknowledge dinner was served, and then promptly go back to staring out the window and waiting for Marilyn to come home.
After letting a few hours go by and devouring almost an entire platter of buffalo wings that Perdy shockingly wanted no part of, I began to become concerned. I contacted Jenna, my ex-girlfriend who was the only member of her family to not go on the trip to Niagara Falls because not only is she at university but also harboured a complete lack of interest, as I usually did with my pet related questions after I found I couldn’t get any information from the local vet if I wasn’t technically the owner of the pet in question. When Jenna didn’t have a clear answer for me she said she would see if anyone on one of her message boards that a lot of pet savvy people frequent had any ideas. Jenna suggested that I try to get her to play which I always tried to do, but when I am alone with her Perdy often seems too depressed to do anything other than sit on the stairs, looking out the window and sulking. I did get her to play but for probably less that two minutes. I continually offered her room on the couch next to me while I watched a few hours of the Stanley Cup playoffs, but there she remained; on the windowsill or the stairs curled up in a ball.
Later that night I made my way to the kitchen to do the dishes, bribing Perdy with a Milkbone to hope she followed. Perdy followed and I broke up the treat inside her dish, mixing it amongst the food Neil had been eyeballing for the past few hours with hope that it would trick Perdy into eating dinner. Perdy picked out the cookie bits, ate them, left the rest of the food, and went back to sulking.
While doing the dishes, I could hear Carol screaming at Vegas in the backyard. It was pretty dark out, but I could see Carol had put Vegas on a leash and was leading her back from the fence that separated the property from the 401. Carol never believed in leashes and seeing one around Vegas’ neck led me to think she had done something pretty bad. I wondered if Vegas had tried to jump the fence and make a break for the highway or Lake Ontario just beyond that. I shrugged it off as being pretty unlikely. Vegas was agile and while it wasn’t much of a fence it was still three times taller than she was. Plus, once she got over the fence there was some thick underbrush that led to a fairly deep ravine for a dog of Vegas’ size, and more brush coming up the other side.
In an effort to get Perdy to at least eat something, I filled one of her chew toys with peanut butter. It worked at first, but she only lasted a few licks before losing interest and returning to her perch on the windowsill. If she would have understood me at all I would have begged her to eat at this point. I wanted to say to her “Perdy we have known each other for a year now. I have walked you almost every day. I have fed you before. You need to get over this before I start feeling like a failure because I can’t do something as simple as watch a dog for one night.”
Shortly before (or possibly after) midnight and after I had abandoned almost all hope and had just placed the food and water dishes in the living room with hopes that just being in proximity to them would prompt Perdy to eat, Jenna got back to me with a pretty sound solution from someone on one of the message boards. Jenna asked me if I had any chicken broth, which I thought we did, but in reality I had to use beef instead. Jenna told me to sweeten the deal by adding the broth to the food. I opened the can and allowed Perdy to sample the broth as if it were a wine tasting. Once Perdy seemed to approve, I began to pour the consommé onto the dog chow. At first, Perdy just began to lick the broth from the bits of kibble, but it wasn’t long before her hunger gave in and she slowly and methodically made her way though a very late dinner.
I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Now that she had just eaten straight beef broth she would need to be walked again and it had started raining quite heavily once again. She also hadn’t touched her water all day which was also of no small concern to me. Plus, I feared her separation anxiety would only get worse once I went to bed since Perdy normally slept with Marilyn every night. I tricked Perdy into drinking some water by putting it in a human bowl and making her think it was a treat of some sort. Despite it lasting over 20 minutes my late night walk in the rain with her was uneventful, but at least she went to the bathroom. I went to bed to read at about two in the morning and Perdy came up to my room an hour later; not to sleep on the bed like she does with Marilyn and Daniel, but to curl up under the desk and continue sulking in my presence.
When I awoke at 5:58 in the morning it was apparent that Perdy had come to join me since she barked and yelped and ran out of the room for no discernable reason. I attempted to go back to sleep, but shortly after that Neil came upstairs kneading at my covers and begging for breakfast.
Only ten minutes had elapsed between Perdy running from the room and me making my way down the stairs, but she had already done her usual morning routine. There was poop on the rug, the cat poop had been eaten, and the mostly empty (except for a coffee filter) garbage bag was torn to shreds. And yet there she was; curled up on the stairs like nothing happened. I could have punished her by sending her to her carrier crate, but that would mean I would have had to stay up after I fed the cat and the pointless fish that no one seems to notice and I sometimes forget exists. Besides, part of Perdy’s problem is that her discipline is inconsistent. Marilyn gave up long ago mostly out of frustration and general apathy. After all, punishment only works on a dog if you catch them in the act of doing something. Daniel won’t discipline at all he finds it tantamount to abuse. That is, he won’t unless he’s in a shitty mood. It got to the point where unless Perdy seriously screwed up (which wasn’t very often) we would just kind of shrug it off and clean up whatever mess was made in silence.
I set out breakfast for Perdy while I was up, but when I reawakened at ten it remained untouched. I once again tried to use the remainder of the broth (which had no congealed slightly in the refrigerator) to coax Perdy into eating, but this time she had wised up to my ruse. She licked the bowl clean of all the broth and left the food behind. At least the water dish trick, still worked, but she still refused to touch her own water.
Despite not having anything to eat, I took Perdy for a walk in the early afternoon. It was a complete improvement over Saturday: bright, sunny, and the only chill in the air came from an infrequent breeze. The dogs were all out, as usual. Vegas came bounding over wanting to play. I patted her on the head and she was quickly called into the house by Carol. If Carol had expected a repeat of the ugly incident last time, she shouldn’t have worried. None of the other dogs so much as batted an eyelash; all perfectly content with soaking up the April sunshine.
I had never been on a walk with Perdy before where she seemed as completely disinterested as she did on Sunday. She usually walks nose to the ground sniffing everything around her. She went through our walk as if it were a formality, with her head in the air and her ears pinned back, stopping only when a train whistle in the distance spooked her. On the walk, I began to wonder if we had made our comings and goings too much of an event. When we leave the house we tend to give Perdy a treat of some sort if we are going someplace dogs aren’t allowed. It seems counterintuitive now since it doesn’t stop her from causing mischief or alleviate her anxiety in any way. Perdy doesn’t even really expect anything unless we call her over and make a scene out of it. When we return, Perdy is often waiting for us and we shower her with affection causing her to piss herself with excitement; literally and often next to my shoes which I should really stop leaving right next to the door.
When we returned to the house I noticed Vegas was tied to the banister that leads up to the porch, This was something I hadn’t seen Carol do before with any of the dogs and it honestly didn’t bode well.
The rest of the afternoon passed as it normally would. With me on the computer fruitlessly trying to do research for and write future blogs. Perdy sat and pined for her owners. I went to reheat the remainder of last night’s wings around five. I fed Neil and put out a full serving of food that I was certain Perdy would devour once everyone came home later that night. When I pulled the wings from the microwave, I looked out the window and down onto the highway. Five cars had stopped on the shoulder of the road. There didn’t appear to be an accident, and one of the cars had a mattress dangerously strapped to its roof. Since this was the most action I had seen all week, I rushed to the computer to tell everyone I was chatting with that I would be right back. When I returned to the window, I saw several people hopping the fence and rushing to Carol’s house.
My cynical heart sank at the thoughts I hoped were wrong. I questioned if I really wanted to see a dead dog, especially one that I had seen earlier. As Carol made her way over the fence, I prayed I had been mistaken. I have had two cats in my lifetime and I hadn’t seen either of them die. I have seen dead birds and fish up close, but I had never seen an actual four legged animal that I had touched earlier in the day dead in front of me.
I watched as the people who stopped help Carol lift Vegas’ body over the fence. I still have no idea how she could have ever gotten over or even under it. No one does. Cassie and Rocky were howling and crying. Vegas was carried by her back, with all four paws sticking straight up in the air. Her helicopter tail that used to be straight as a rail hung beneath her as limp as a shoelace. Once I saw that I looked away and cried for a pet that wasn’t even mine.
Within twenty minutes of her death, Vegas’ body was wrapped in a blanket and placed into the front of a tractor; destined to take the grave next to Molly. The three of us watched from Perdy’s spot: Perdy on the windowsill and Neil on my lap as I sat on the stairs. I wondered if Perdy knew what was under the blanket. I didn’t feel much like doing anything anymore. I didn’t even want to go outside for the burial. I just couldn’t do it.
As the tractor pulled away towards what was becoming a makeshift pet cemetery, Perdy got up from her perch, stretched her legs, and made her way to the kitchen where she devoured her already late dinner in less than five minutes. I like to think Perdy can tell when I am upset. Even if just to pacify me, it was enough to make me smile.
I took Perdy for an after dinner walk and things seemed to be back to normal. All the dogs were inside except for Stormy who was lying at the foot of the driveway on her side and whimpering. I knelt down beside her and gave her a good petting; something I had never done before with Stormy. When Storm rolled over onto her stomach looking sad and listless, I began to sob openly. I knew this really wasn’t like Stormy. She was hurting and just wanted some attention and someone to tell her everything was going to be OK. Perdy sat perfectly still and didn’t come between us, but clearly wanted to continue the walk.
Perdy and I made a detour on the way back to the house so we could stop at Vegas’ grave and pay our respects. The ground where the dogs are buried at the end of the street was extremely muddy from the rain and melted snow. You could see spots where the tractor sunk trying to pull in next to Molly’s grave that is marked simply with a sapling. Once the ground dries a bit more Vegas will also be remembered with a tree. Two trees will be side by side in a completely open field. Because of the mud, we didn’t get too close and since neither of us had anything to say other than “I’m going to miss you. I always liked your tail and your energy.” and “bark” we moved on fairly quickly out of fear of sinking into the ground ourselves.
When we returned home the sunset had turned the horizon a brilliant orange against a cloudless light blue sky. Perdy resumed her spot at the window, awaiting the return of her loved ones. It wasn’t going to be much longer now. I grabbed a beer, sat beside her, and I too, waited.
