"I'm cute and crippled, will work for food, love and sleep."I had a bleeding heart about 2 months ago and decided to adopt a dog from the Humane Society. I got the picture of Edgar from an email circulation at work, and those beautiful blue eyes, and that pathetic little cast called me to my destiny. After a day of back and forth w/ the Humane Society, I found myself buying dog supplies and headed to pick him up and take him on his journey home. I was stoked to have a new roomy, someone to talk to when I get home, someone to go on walks with, to sleep with...I've never refused my bed to a dog.
Our relationship for the first 3-4 weeks was going wonderfully. He was doing all of the right things...I was the apple of his eye...We could read eachother's minds. Soulmates really. He barked and it's like I could just tell he wanted to go outside, or eat some dinner. It was so weird. Some could say that maybe I enjoyed his weakness, that I finally had the upper hand in a relationship, but really I just wanted to pamper him and nurture him. About 3 1/2 weeks ago, as soon as Edgar came to be healed, it's like he was a different person, not in a bad way, but in the I've-never-seen-this-side-of-you-before kind of a way. I thought, this is new, I could get use to this. Well then it was like I couldn't do anything right, you bought the wrong food, it wasn't enough food, I hate plush toys, but I love to eat your coffee table books and you put them where I can't reach them, I don't want to go to bed at 11:00pm I wanna go back outside. It's like he was back on the streets again, but he wasn't - he was under my roof.
After some personal anguish about whether or not I could make this relationship work I decided to suck it up - I mean, I'm desperate and lonely, who else am I going to meet? So in the usual fashion we woke up at 5:45 am, had our breakfast and headed out for a long walk. As soon as we turned the corner to head back home the abuse began. He started barking and barking at me, I tried to stay as calm as possible, keep walking and ignore him, but the barking continued. Then he got a hold of my pants and tried to pull me down, he kept continuously grabbing and biting at my leg until my pants were completely shredded and I was exposed to the world - not to mention the fact that I wasn't wearing underwear and was trying to keep exposure to a minimum. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I was backed into a chevy caprise and I had no choice, I dropped the leash. Tears streamed down my face and I confusingly pleaded "what do you want from me?" He continued to bite and tear and pull, and at that moment in time I was rendered helpless. I finally got away from him. Tattered, bloody and torn I called my parents for help - and he, Edgar, came back to the front door as if nothing had ever happened. I was so confused, my feelings were so hurt. But as I drove off to emergency care, he was hauled back to the humane society. I don't know if I was ever really what he wanted, and in retrospect it was probably destined to fail.
I ask about him often...wondering how he's doing...if he's moved on.
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