"Dear Sir"

I received this email from former adopters today:

Dear Sir,

We are writing this letter in regard to a young German Shepherd (Timber) that we recently adopted from you.  We understand that a GSD is a high energy dog requiring training, exercise and stimulation.  We understand that they may chase cats, chew furniture, howl at sirens like a wolf, and generally eat a lot.  While we were willing to adjust to these problems we have recently had an episode that is difficult to overcome.  Please see the attached photograph.  Try to understand...this was a perfectly good glass of chardonnay.

Please advise on how to proceed.

Timber

The first suggestion that comes to mind is that they fish the ball out of the glass and suck it dry (these folks would).  And perhaps they should spend a little less time drinking wine and more time (more, more) playing with their dog.  After pondering their predicament for a bit, it occurred to me that the fine dog they adopted from me is also a very fine oenophile who correctly believed that the bitter taste of chardonnay is made more palatable by a slimy tennis ball.  If the dog has a nose for wine, they could probably make a fortune by hiring him out to winemakers.  (I could totally see these folks traveling from farm to farm shamelessly enjoying themselves in retirement as their dog worked to support them.)



The reason this email was so welcome today is that Clay and I spent several hours Monday night and early Tuesday morning in the emergency room getting Clay's hand treated for dog bite wounds.  Radley, who has scarcely ever had an unkind word for another dog, decided yesterday to take out our Zachary.  I do not know what brought it on.  They were all out in the dog yard together.  Radley climbed the fence into the pasture to pursue whatever game had piqued his interest last week.  When he tired of that, he began running the fence line with Zachary, a game they seem to enjoy although I hate it.  I'm not so sure that didn't bring out some aggression, perhaps trash talk was exchanged as they ran, I don't know.  They were together again in the dog yard without incident, but when they came into the house Radley went after Zach for no apparent reason.  That one we broke up without difficulty and sort of chalked it up to a nearby empty food dish.  But last night about 11:00 p.m., in the bedroom, Radley launched himself at Zachary again, with absolutely no provocation.  It was Clay's mistake, but it's one we've all made, sticking your hand the middle of a dog fight.  It's an instinctive reaction and one you only learn to overcome by experiencing the consequences.  Zachary is ok, Clay got the worst of it by far, several puncture wounds and a very nasty gash on his middle finger.  The ER doc didn't want to close it because it was a "dirty wound," so we are seeing a hand surgeon on Friday to see what, if anything, needs to be done. 

Radley is on a 10 day quarantine and then I'll have him euthanized.  He's a nice dog, but he's now completely unadoptable and I'm not comfortable having him around, nor am I comfortable passing him off to someone else.  It's unpleasant and unfortunate, but it's the way it is. 

Swinging the pendulum back again, I'm pleased to announce that the third Pyr/Golden/Lab pup was adopted this past weekend.  Rescue is always a mixture of happiness and tragedy, often occurring simultaneously.