“We believe our dogs will protect us, we admire their loyalty, we revel in the fact that they obey and are submissive to us, and we respect their hunting and tracking abilities. But along with those canine characteristics that serve our egos and needs comes the darker side of the predatory being: the aggression, the predatory drive, the pack mentality, the reproductive urges, the dominance issue and the territorial nature of the canine.” – Delise, Karen. Fatal Dog Attacks: The Stories Behind the Statistics, Anubis Press, 2001
Our CJ was (is) an aggressive dog. She began exhibiting intra-sexual and possession aggression at the age of three months, and at the age of four months exhibited fearful and dominance aggression. She was spayed. She was socialized. She was well trained. We worked with her every day for an hour or more multiple times per day. We watched her like a hawk. We developed protocols for every situation which we knew caused her stress, and minimized her exposure to those stressors. We became adept at reading, understanding and controlling her potential for aggression. We spent over a hundred hours and thousands of dollars on professional trainers, special equipment, boot camps, books, on-line training courses, and prescription medications. We loved her like nobody’s business because with us, she was a large gray marshmallow who loved morning snuggles. For four years we continued to hope that she would gain confidence and learn to ignore stranger dogs and dwell peacefully with our toy aussie (Moja). In her first two years with us she attacked Moja twice, ending in stitches for our diminutive scrap of a girl, and an in-home quarantine period for CJ after the second incident. Once she was out of quarantine, we made her world even smaller, and we doubled down on the reading and the training and the behavior requirements. It worked. For almost two years we had to issue only one small correction to CJ when it came to Moja. She was also making better choices when walking past other dogs on our walks, putting herself into an off-course down-stay as she was taught. That all changed on February 19, 2021, when she attacked to kill Moja while we were getting ready for bed. She is trained to go into her crate and wait for her treat, but that night she decided to jump into our bed while I was turning it down. Moja nipped at her when she jumped up, and, rather than just issue a warning growl, or accept Moja’s immediate offering of submission, CJ viciously dug her teeth into Moja’s back and started violently shaking her. She was in her lizard brain and would not listen to any of my commands. If Lou hadn’t arrived when he did, I am certain this post would have a very different outcome. After putting CJ in her kitchen crate, we bundled Moja up and took her to the same emergency vet service that stitched her up the first two times. In the parking lot, while Moja was being assessed, we concluded with broken hearts that CJ needed to be euthanized, or re-homed. I couldn’t bear the thought of CJ not being in this world, but I knew also that she could not be trusted ever again with Moja. Keeping them separate for the rest of their lives with our active lifestyle was not a sustainable option, and I didn’t want CJ to be crated and chained for the rest of her life. Our first call the next day was to the breeder where we got her as a puppy. We explained the situation to the owner, and she asked that we bring CJ back to her. She said she would keep her in her home for three weeks, during which time she would assess CJ’s issues and, if appropriate, would enlist the help of her friend who trains service dogs for disabled vets. She invited us to call in a week to see how CJ was doing, and we agreed that if CJ could be placed with someone with no other pets or children, we would continue to pay her annual vet bills and dog food. My heart burst into a million pieces as we drove away from the farm, with her holding the leash and CJ watching us in confusion. Make no mistake. I blame myself for what happened. There are so many “should-haves” going through my head, and I know I will never forgive myself for not being able to “fix” CJ. I am haunted by my failure to save CJ and to project Moja. Even now that she no longer lives with us, I continue to read and study about aggression in dogs. Prior to CJ, I prided myself in how well-trained my dogs always were (once past the puppy stage). I’ve had dozens of dogs, and not one of them had any issues with aggression of any kind. It took having a dog like CJ to teach me just how much I didn’t know about dogs. CJ taught me how to be a better dog parent, and for that I will always be grateful. I will never stop learning about them, and Moja and any future dog we may be lucky enough to have will benefit from everything CJ encouraged me to learn.
We shared four wonderful years with CJ and we showered her with love, understanding, compassion, and adventures. Giving her up was quite literally one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I would have done anything to “cure” her. My heart aches. Truly and without pause. I have been crying relentlessly since we made our decision. I am going to miss her more than I’ve missed any other dog before her. We were so close because of all the time I spent working with her. There’s going to be a huge gap in my heart for quite some time, and Lou is missing his daily B&B (beer and ball) time with her. When we dropped CJ off, I included with her dog bed and bag of toys a letter for her new pet parent:
To whomever loves CJ next,
Congratulations! You will not find a more loyal, snuggly, and affectionate dog than C.J. She needs a little time to warm up to you, and to new people. We found that ignoring her at first meetings, then holding out a hand with a treat and letting her take it from you helps speed up the process. Throwing a ball, or just about anything else, will also speed up the process. She loves to play fetch and will bring back whatever you throw for her. If it somehow gets lost, as sometimes happens when throwing something in the water, she will exhaust herself looking for just that particular thing. Throwing something else will not deter her search for the original thing that was thrown. Eventually she’ll wear herself out and settle for something else. She’ll let you know when the time is right. She loves hugs and treats and weaves back and forth between your legs like a cat. Just don’t mess too much with her big beautiful tail. She’s sensitive to it the way other dogs are sensitive to their feet being touched.
She is well versed verbally on the sit, down, come, up, kennel, off, stay, paw, leave it, drop it, get it, heel, and bring it commands. Her marker word is “Yes” and her release word is “Break.” She also is house-broken. She does the cutest little “woof” when she needs or wants something. It sounds like a whisper.
She walks and runs very well on a leash and treadmill, is a runner’s dog, and can easily cover over six miles of straight running and still want to play fetch when she gets home (after a brief respite). She just needs a wide berth around other dogs we may come across. I tried to avoid routes I knew were not dog-free. She’s been trained to wear a muzzle, so if you do walk her where other dogs may be I recommend putting it on her beforehand.
It’s very unfortunate that, despite our best efforts, other than the elderly lab we had when we first brought her home, she never learned how to play well with other dogs. We have worked with multiple trainers over the four years we had her, beginning at three months old, but her aggression towards and fear of stranger dogs never got better, even while on Prozac for the last year. She’s become a danger to have around our toy Australian Shepherd. We desperately wanted to “fix” CJ, but after the latest incident with our Aussie, we’ve finally accepted that there may not be a fix for her, and that the best life we can give her is to let her go to someone who can give her a safe space with no other dogs and no children to stress (or test) her.
We hope you have as much fun playing and cuddling with her as we did in the four years we had her. We will always miss her, and are simply devastated at having to re-home her. When you hug her (which she loves), please give her an extra squeeze now and again from us.
