Around 5 years ago, we needed to put down our dog Teddy. My son just today asked me where Teddy really is. At the time we had told our son, “Teddy went to live at a farm.”

Truth is I don’t know where he is, other than that he’s dead. And we killed him, with help of a veterinarian. My son “knew” this today, and he called me out, “Mom, if he were really at a farm, you know we’d go to see him.” After he asked point blank, I told him the truth. He had learned the expression “put down” from his friend.

But what my son may not have known was the whole story, and that Teddy really didn’t want to die. During my morning meditation I had a flash of insight about Teddy about what an important member of our family he was. Then came my son’s question. Oh. Boy.

We all loved Teddy, and he was 1000% loyal to our family. He was an amazing dog in every way, adorable and sweet – with us. He never tipped the trash cans or ate off the coffee table. But we couldn’t have people over, or he’d bite them.

Or if they did come, I’d run around like crazy trying to protect everyone by monitoring energy levels and behaviors of everyone present to keep them safe. I physically ran interference. The. Whole. Time. I couldn’t take Teddy anywhere either. One day Teddy bit a really nice dog in the cemetery, and another guy with another dog, came over and yelled at me for being an “asshole white woman” for letting my dog loose to hurt his dog friend. Thankfully the actual owner of the injured dog took my apology, my phone number, my money for the vet visit, Teddy’s rabies info, and we were done after that.

It was exhausting being Teddy’s mom.

Teddy’s Backstory

Teddy was a rescue from SOS (Save One Soul), who snipped at us the very first moment we reached out to him. On his “gotcha day,” we met him wrapped in a towel, post-bath getting blotted dry and prepping up for us to take him home. Leading up to this day, a very nice SOS person Lindsey kept telling me how cute he was as she nudged us toward adopting him. So we contemplated bringing him into our family based on some web photos, and then we took him on for real. Teddy was lots of things, but cute was not one of them.

When COVID came, no one came over. And this was a relief for our family of introverts. Teddy was great. We were great. No issues, no protection needed. Lovely, a family at rest. Me in my home: also able to rest.

After COVID fears eased, and schools and backyards opened up again, and my kids – and their friends – started running in and out of the house and backyard gate, with bikes, planes, trains and automobiles (just kidding, it was just bikes, though it felt like everything). Teddy flashed fear, and barked every time, and continued to bite at, or just terrify everyone. It was awful.

I made rules, but kids are kids. And they were all in danger from Teddy and I couldn’t protect both the back gate and front door at the same time. Everyone who wanted to come by could get hurt. And I wanted my kids to have friends over. For this house to be a good place to be. And, let’s be real, also to keep an eye on the whole lot of them.

One day when I was out, my husband allowed over a friend of my son and her dad, and everyone hung around outside. The men shot the breeze over beers, like you are supposed to with friends, and missed the kids’ energy spike.

Teddy, however, didn’t miss it, freaked out, and bit Odin’s 7 year old friend really bad. The girl was swinging on the set, and Teddy ran up, grabbed her leg, and didn’t let go. A deep, deep puncture.

I came home and got the word (the men said “it was handled… it was fine…”), and subsequently, received the photos of the bite by text, so “I could see.”

In my world, you NEVER want a child getting hurt at your house. It’s wrong. It means you aren’t doing your job. The other mom knew this too, and was reasonably understanding… the first time this happened. This was the second.

So, deeply in pain, but with resolution, we reached out to SOS, and they re-adopted Teddy and asked us if we’d foster him through a behavior modification program with their best expert. We did this for several months with lots of hot dog-treat-training sessions with me and two other SOS experts in a big field in Narragansett. The goal: to make Teddy heal enough, to feel safe enough, to live with a loner-type person out in the woods, away from distractions and triggers that made him attack. We did this with great hope. He did not improve.

It was ultimately the rescue who recommended behavioral euthanasia (BE), and we had to come to grips with saying permanent goodbye to a dog we loved. It was the most emotionally brutal thing I’ve ever had to do.* My stomach… I don’t even know how to describe the emotional AND physical pain I felt. It was everywhere. Through and through.

My husband and I did this without asking for sympathy or laying blame, for the sake of the community, and also yes, to avoid lawsuit where we’d lose everything. If we didn’t handle it now, this would surely and deservedly be the outcome. For Teddy, maybe this would be a relief? I could only hope. That’s what I choose to believe. Because he WAS full of love. He could not stop his tortured response, and it was dangerous. We had done everything we could and SOS assured us they would “love to” have us adopt from them again. They said it wasn’t our fault. I appreciate their grace to this day. I appreciate them. They absolved us on so many levels.

The day we brought Teddy to the vet was filled with special treats and favorite things. We loved him harder than we’d ever loved him before. We said goodbye, we cried, and we looked him in the eye. He deserved it.

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Teddy’s euthanasia did not go as planned. He did not die fast like he was supposed to. He stayed awake through the ‘drowsy’ first shot, and continued to walk around through one, two, three doses of the kill shot, when one was supposed to do the job. We apologized and spoke kindly to him the whole time. I tried to ease his passing, to let him know to let go. That he was SAFE. But my eyes cried, my stomach burned, my soul agonized.

He just wanted to keep loving us.

What more could we do? It was a mercy killing, but he didn’t want mercy. He wanted to live and love us. But he couldn’t, and we didn’t handle stuff like this ourselves. It required a vet.

Earlier thread: bee bee guns & rat ass bastards

One of my teachers taught me years ago about mercy killings, and this is another solace when I think about Teddy. This thread of my story was around 1998 when I lived with my mom, having moved back from NYC after a crap accident that left me broke and broken.

At that time my mom’s neighbor and landlord had loaded our shared yard with rat harborage and so they moved in. So, unlike us peace-loving, liberal folk (and at my Mom’s boyfriend’s instruction), we got a bee bee gun to handle the rat problem.

Shots were to be taken from the safety of the kitchen window, which had a good view of rat ass island (I think that’s what we called it). We figured this was better than poisoning the rats, which would have polluted the groundwater, and perhaps harm the rabbits, the ducks that sometimes visited, and other wildlife. It was also better than catch and release. We didn’t want rabies. Who does? (Also, where would you put the rat?)

He showed me how to hold the gun, how to aim and fire. I kept thinking about that movie, A Christmas Story with Ralphie, and shooting my eye out. Soon after, we saw a rat. I took my first shot, I hit it, but I didn’t kill it. Its bottom half kept moving, you could see its labored breathing. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy. I was excited, horrified, and freaked out all at once.

He told me “you have to finish and shoot again NOW.” I did and hit again. The rat’s twitching stopped and he died. My mom’s boyfriend congratulated me, called me “Deadeye Dick,” and I felt exhilarated. I didn’t know I had it in me. I’ve never had aim like that before or since, but when it mattered, I did it. I felt like I protected my family. And, I also learned that day, when something doesn’t belong, and is carrying disease near your home, you have to do things. And even if I don’t actually want to harm, this was the way. It was merciful to shoot ‘to dead.’ Not shoot ‘to injured.’ Or at least this is what I’m thinking about, remembering Teddy today…

Thank you for reading my Ted Talk. Teddy was my dog. He was a good family dog.

*Behavioral Euthanasia (BE) is a VERY difficult decision and subject to discuss. Everyone has an opinion and most are sure they could do it better. I cannot say enough good things about the support group I was directed to at that time. There is a term surrounding this experience called “Losing your LuLu” that describes this unique pain. And unique love. And unique courage. People who have been there, know what this is about, and try to help each other cope. It’s grace. Helping yourself, supporting others who know, and communicating honestly can help us heal. Thank you FB group. I’ll appreciate you always.