Sad

Today is the worst day. Rhys is driving Jack to town right now to have Jack put down. It hurts so much to have to end the life of our beautiful, powerful, graceful dog, but we can't think of any safe alternative.

Jack was always difficult to work with; it was hard to find ways to motivate him. But his problems with aggression didn't start until just after Thanksgiving, when he began to growl and snarl at me, and my husband, and get in fights with other dogs. He rushed me several times, and we had to keep him on tie-down so that people would not be at risk of bites. We neutered him and took him to a trainer. The trainer we went to said that Jack had dominance aggression, and advised us to control his personal boundaries by using kennels and tie-downs, and to schedule his days intensively with organized training, feeding, and play times.

This worked really well for about 2 weeks, and then he went right back to the growling, snarling, and rushing. On more than one occasion he hit his mouth against me in what would have been a bite if he had not been muzzled. He attacked my husband during feeding, and only quick reflexes prevented a bite. Then he attacked my husband in the car, and would have severely wounded him were it not for the muzzle. Throughout all this, we have been working with him on general obedience, trying to show him where his place in the family is. His manners on the lead did improve, but in and around the house and cars he remained a constant threat.

So we have decided that he is too dangerous to keep training, since he is not showing improvement in the home. I feel so ashamed that I am unable to help him. We even discussed (many times) keeping him outside in the big pen, and only letting him out to hunt (Jack is a superb pig tracker). However, his repeated attacks on us show that he is too much of a liability to keep, since he is easily big and strong enough to severely injure or kill someone.

I am sorry, Jack. You are my big, beautiful dog who is too brave to back down from anyone or anything, ever. I have seen you hold at bay a 300-lb boar. I have watched you run across the summer-dry grass, almost invisible because your coat is the same color. I love you. When I tried to pet you for the last time, you growled at me. I still love you. Goodbye.