Muzzled

It had been nearly two weeks since I had driven the three hours and twelve minutes to Stray Haven Rescue in Upstate New York to pick up my new soulmate. I'd seen her on Petfinder and had my very first experience with love at first sight. I needed this dog. Not much was known about her history; Stray Haven had rescued her from a high kill shelter in North Carolina and she was estimated to be a year and a half old. Also, she had been adopted by a family and returned for biting a kid. Okay, she has a bite history, definitely something to watch for. But still, I needed to meet her.

I had two weeks left in my apartment where I wasn't allowed pets so I called to ask whether they could hold her if I were to come and meet her. They couldn't, and understandably so. With the recent spike in unwanted pets, adopted on a whim due to isolation and loneliness through the pandemic, shelters such as Stray Haven were, and still are, floundering. So I waited; checking Petfinder every day, multiple times a day, to see if she had been adopted. With a lot of luck (or more likely her bite history) she was still available by the time I moved into my new, pet friendly place.

The day after my move, I went to meet her. After a few hours of outrageously singing alone in my car, I pulled onto a long dirt driveway in a town I'd never heard of. The staff were lovely, and one woman even remembered me from when I had called asking to hold this particular pup. I waited nervously on the lawn, not knowing where to place my gaze. And then he brought her out. I couldn't tell you what his name was, or even what he looked like. What I can tell you is saw my soulmate. She walked up to me, head level with her shoulders, and ears pinned down. Her entire body was wriggling with excitement and when we drew close her elbows touched the ground. I knelt to greet her and she placed her front paws gently on my shoulders. Shyly, she glanced around, occasionally meeting my starstruck stare. The man who brought her out talked a lot, telling me about his dogs, or kids, or birds, or whatever. The only thing I heard was when he said "I think you found your dog". I signed the papers that day.

As my life was in shambles from my very recent move, I decided to wait two days before bringing her home. She had been christened "Foxy" either by the shelter, or the family who adopted and returned her. This however, didn’t feel quite like me so i decided to make a slight adjustment; "Foxey Lady" after the Jimi Hendrix song. Our drive home was easy. We listened to music (at a much lower volume then when I made the journey there), I told her all about my favorite artists, my life, my heartbreaks, and my triumphs. She sat shotgun and listened calmly and silently looking out the window and occasionally nudging my hand with her nose, asking for pets.

Foxey Lady adjusted quickly to life with me. It became apparent very early on that she had received no training whatsoever; she was afraid to get in the car (a big change from the day I picked her up), she didn't respond to the word "walk" (I'm guessing she'd never been on one), and didn't even know the command "sit" (the most rudimentary command known to canine kind). Despite all this, Foxey Lady was (and still is) the most lovable, cuddly dog I had ever met in my entire life; constant snuggles, endearing hugs, and no boundaries whatsoever. It was obvious she was eager to please and a very fast learner.

However, the day this story began, about two weeks after the love affair between me and Foxey blossomed, she bit another dog. Until this point, I had specifically avoided socialization her with other dogs (She's a pit bull mix from an unknown background with a bit history and an owner who's learning just as much as she is). But this day we came across a very friendly boy on our evening walk and they both seemed so keen to play it felt cruel not to let them. I warned the owner that I had just rescued her and did not know how she would be with other dogs. He informed me that he worked for a pit bull rescue, understood the risks, and let me know his dog (also a pit mix) was very friendly. Everything felt fine at first, Foxey approached the other dog in a submissive manner; low to the ground, tail wagging, ears down. Then, in an instant, she changed. No apparent warning, no growl or snarl, she grabbed the other dog by the eye and held tight. The poor boy screamed (I'll never forget that sound) and to be honest, I don't know what happened next. All I can remember is kneeling on the grass hold Foxey by both her harness and the scruff of her neck and apologizing profusely. The dogs eye was bleeding and he was whimpering and rubbing it with his front paw.

Luckily for me the owner was kind. He acknowledged that I had warned him of the risks and refused when I offered my information incase there were any vet bills or lasting damage, saying that it was as much his fault as mine and he understood the trials of learning a new dog. The rest of that day was tough. I felt as though I had caught my sweet and loving child mutilating an animal for sport. I was angry with her and myself. The next day I spent a lot of time looking at training schools but none would accept a dog with a bite history into a group lesson and private lessons were pushing $1,000.00. I felt inadequate, like I had already failed her after just two weeks. I was afraid to take her for walks and ashamed to tell my family or ask for help. It wasn't until three days had passed that I pulled myself away from my wallowing and realized I HAD to handle this. Foxey was MY dog and I was GOING to handle it because that was the only option.

It has now been eight months since Foxey Lady came into my life and I’m happy to say that we still are madly in love. We still avoid contact with other dogs and after a lot of research I landed on a cage muzzle which she only wears to the vet or in any situation where there's unavoidable close contact with other dogs. I've found YouTube to be very helpful in training me how to train her and she now knows multiple commands and even some tricks, including "crawl", and "sit pretty". We hope to eventually go on a pack walk with my cousin and her two dogs (Foxey in her muzzle) to learn that we can be near other dogs without saying hi and feeling threatened because fear was the root of her actions that day. Foxey Lady is not an aggressive dog. She's just a dog; one with minimal training, and an unknown trauma, responding to fear in the only way she knew how. Much like most of us.