Oogy_ The Dog Only a Family Could Love - Larry Levin [27]
“This really is Mr. Happy Dog,” Dr. Bianco told her the following Monday morning. “This little guy is one of the happiest dogs I have ever met.” And then he added, smiling, “I can’t imagine what he’d be like if half of his face hadn’t been ripped off.”
Dr. Bianco, Jennifer, and I were in one of the examination rooms with the pup, who lay on a steel table while Dr. B stroked his flanks. I was lazily rubbing his head, which he held erect, his dark eyes following us, his tail beating the table in a slow, steady rhythm. I reached down and touched his neck, began to massage behind his missing ear. The pup put his head down on the table while I stroked the softness just behind the scarring.
“We’ve already been through having a dog that bit someone,” Jennifer said. “It was beyond horrible. A ten-year-old boy almost lost an eye and needed a number of stitches to close the wound.”
“Luckily, his parents were remarkably cool about it,” I said quickly, trying to steer this conversation in a more positive direction. I explained to Dr. Bianco that the boy’s parents had accepted the incident as collective bad luck, since they understood we had rescued the dog just days before, and they had not initiated a lawsuit against us. They knew that we could not have known the dog was a biter. To this day, the boy has remained friends with Noah and Dan.
The rescue organization from which we had adopted that dog had told us he was a retriever/Airedale mix. We later learned he was mostly chow, and according to what we were told, the chow considers anyone besides his caretaker as fair game. We took the dog back to the shelter we had adopted it from the same day the boy was bitten. The shelter was a no-kill one, and we understood that eventually the dog went to live on a farm with an elderly woman who received few visitors.
“What I want to know is,” Jennifer continued, “since this animal is an abused pit bull, how can we be sure that it’ll never hurt anyone?”
Dr. Bianco looked into her eyes. “This dog doesn’t have a mean bone in his body,” he said matter-of-factly, without any hesitation. He shook his head. “He will never, ever bite anyone.”
He is really going out on a limb for me, I thought. There’s no way he can guarantee this, is there?
Based on Oogy’s weight (thirty pounds), his size, and his breed, Dr. Bianco estimated his age at four months, confirming what Dr. Peters had told us.
“How big will he get to be?” I asked.
“Fifty to fifty-five pounds,” he told us with a shrug.
Much to my surprise, Jennifer said she would agree to give it a try. Then she left for work.
I looked at the dog. I said, “You’re coming home with us, pal.” He cocked his head. His tail repeatedly whapped the steel table. It was clear that he understood something was going on. I gently rubbed the velvet in between his shoulders.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Dr. Bianco explained. “We’ve already neutered him. He’s up-to-date on all his shots. Diane has been taking him home to foster him. She has two little kids and half a dozen different animals in the house. We want to make certain he’s safe around other animals and kids. Diane’s also going to crate-train him for you and make sure he’s housebroken. When she feels comfortable with his behavior, she’ll give you a call and make arrangements to get him to you.”
Then he added, “You’ve got yourself a great dog, Larry. The staff knows how much your family loves animals, and we’re really glad you’re taking him. We’re excited for all of you.”
“That’s great,” I told him. “Thank you very much.” I rubbed the leathery texture of the scar tissue and the softness where the scar tissue ended. I had a sense that the opportunity to compensate for what had happened to this dog would somehow, in as yet indefinable ways, add to the experience. I looked forward to the opportunity to make the dog feel secure and appreciated. I experienced