Left to Pick up the Pieces

It feels like I was kicked in the stomach so hard I can't breathe. The wind has been taken from us. We spent four months, intense months on training Ben. And Ben ends up dying despite our efforts to save him. He was a 4-year old, healthy and vibrant Pyr with tons of personality and that was one of the reasons it was such a tough decision. I keep going around on this so stop reading if you like but it's my way of coping with this loss. I have to work this out.

I was so excited to come home and work with him because we always made such good progress. Ben really blossomed. I found it so exciting to take what I had learned from Lynn and apply it and then become really comfortable with it. Ben really seemed to look forward to it, too. I would guess that's because it involved so many treats but that is what worked. I have the feeling he enjoyed the work, too. It made him think and he was a very smart boy and a very quick learner.

He had lost all of his old, dry malnourished coat and his new coat was coming in. Thick and soft. He would have had a beautiful winter coat.

We're going through doubt, now. Ninety percent of the time Ben was a lovable goob and ten percent of the time he went blind. He knew what worked so he got his way. He was a 130 pounds of solid Pyr. He hadn't been taught any differently and he had to survive. He had to fall back on his wolf instincts and I'm told it was so ingrained in him that there was nothing we could do.

I opened the trunk of the car today. It sickened me all over again to see the collar Ben came with, encrusted with his blood, dirt and hair. It reminded me of how much pain he must have been in over time.

We went from one end of the spectrum with Clara our angel, to the other end we now know, with Ben, a neglected but loving boy.