Early last year after a few incidents of home robberies in our village, joey and I decided to get a guard dog. We had 2 poodles but they would more likely escort the robbers to our valuables than scare them away. After heavy research We chose a Belgian Malinois. We called him Maximus. We thought we were ready for a large dog because of our success with our toy poodles. Little did we know!
I was Maximus’ main caregiver. I walked him everyday - early in the morning and at night no matter what time I came home. If someone had started a rumour about a spirit walking the streets in the dead of night that would just have been Maximus and I listening to Jack Johnson. I even made a Maximus Walk playlist with all my favourite dog walking songs!
He was affectionate and a really good listener 😜. We had a house built for him (specially designed by me!) and we fenced off our garden to avoid having to cage or tie him up which several people advised us we had to do. He also went to doggie school (the whole family had to go too!). He was a feisty, noisy dog. He grew big fast. In 5 months he was about 2 ft tall and 3 ft long from snout to tail. I loved him.
On Dec. 28, 2017 around the time fireworks are intermittently set off where I live, in one of our regular early morning walks, on a deserted house-less road ( which is almost every road in our village) Maximus suddenly attacked me. He had my left forearm in his jaws and a panicked look in his eyes. Twice he bit down on my forearm and in the struggle he sliced my thumb open with his teeth. I kept my wits about me keeping him at an arm's length so he couldn’t get my body but as a result he almost tore that arm open. I was 500 meters away from home and help. There was a security post with a guard within sight of me but he was used to seeing us at that time of day and since I wasn’t screaming he probably thought we were playing. I quickly decided I wouldn’t call out because I knew that would put Maximus in a fierce frenzy. I remember thinking of the guard and chanting in my head- ‘please don’t come close, please don’t come close.” Adrenalin coursed through my veins and somehow I was able to grip his head between my hands and fight him to the ground where I lay on him until we both calmed down. For 5 min (which felt like 5 hours) we were sprawled on a mossy, leaf blanketed road. No cars came by. None of my usual morning dog walkers either, thank God! With my heart racing and my breathing heavy but still struggling to remain calm, I gently got us off the ground to walk that 500 meters home. I was bleeding from my wounds - think of that classic shot in horror movies where the camera zooms into a hand dangling loosely with drops of blood dripping. That was me leaving a small trail of it on the road. I was talking to Maximus all the way - praying nothing else would set him off - not another fireworks explosion, or a house helper coming out for the morning sweep or a car driving by. I had no strength to have a second round with him.
I got home without incident and as far as Maximus’ was concerned, it seemed like everything was normal. The house was still quiet when I let myself in. I walked into our bedroom and joey later told me that I set a scary silhouette in the doorway. I was hunched over and shaking like a leaf. This whole incident was followed by a series of horrible anti rabies shots, bruised arms and worst of all a heavy heart because I was now afraid to go near Maximus. Eventually we decided to give him up. We were too afraid to give him the proper care he needed and it wasn’t fair to him. A security dog business owner came to our house 3 weeks later to take him away. Joey knew that it was going to be hard for me. In the 3 weeks that we were thinking and praying about it I kept making a case for keeping Maximus but Joey would have none of it. Joey said I was like a battered wife making excuses for an abusive husband.
Joey took Maximus one afternoon to the corner street where I could not see the turn over and there they loaded him onto a truck and he was gone. My heart was broken and I sobbed for a long time. Even now as I write this I am tearful and regretful.
I never shared this story publicly. Foolishly I felt I was being disloyal to Maximus by talking about it to anyone but close friends. I really believe that he was a good dog. I would hate for anyone to think otherwise. He was just much more than we knew how to handle.
In a retreat last week we were asked to share about a life experience that started out badly but turned out to be a good thing. I shared about the lessons Maximus taught me.
1. I always saw myself as a highly emotional person. I was resigned to it. Maximus showed me that I can control my feelings. I am not a slave to my emotions but its master. You know that line people often say – “this is me there’s nothing i can do about it”? That just doesn’t ring true for me anymore. If you need to and want to you can change no matter how long you’ve been a certain way. Yup even when you’re over 50.
2. As a consequence of no. 1 I know with certainty that I can be relied upon in an emergency. I used to think I would lose my head if something frightening happened. Well, in this dry run, I kept my head just fine (and my arm!)
3. There is no such thing as a one size fits all strategy. Just because we were good with poodles didn’t mean we would be good with a Belgian Malinois
4. Even how you love has to be tailor fit to who you are loving. The way I love my poodles is to cuddle and hug them(throw in some baby talk too). I don’t need to be stern or tough with them, just consistent. I dealt with max the same way until he got too big and energetic to cuddle (and he wouldn’t have any of that baby talk either). I should have been tougher - not mean, just more stern. It would have still been the same love just a stronger, tougher, more “I’m the boss” kind of love
Giving Maximus up was very hard for all of us but it was the right thing to do. And no I am not going to say that cheesy line about loving something and letting it go.
Full confession? the guy who took him from us lives in our village and I once drove around the village to see if I could find his house and maybe catch a glimpse of Maximus. Okay- twice... and maybe if I’m in a mall with security dogs that look like Maximus I might walk past him and whisper his name to see if I’d get a reaction. Maybe. I’m not saying I do that.
This jacket was what I was wearing that morning. He bit right through it although it was made of pretty thick and lined water resistant material. I thought of throwing it away. It’s not a special jacket anyway. But I kept it tucked away in a bag, out of sight, that is, until yesterday. Maybe it was the retreat sharing or being close to the 1 year anniversary since we gave him up but I took it out of the bag yesterday and then got my sewing kit and started to repair the jacket. I struggled to make it pretty then I gave up and decided to just patch it up as best I could, pretty or not. I even found myself choosing the brightest coloured thread in my sewing box.
My favourite jacket is now scarred for life. The not so special jacket has become unique- now branded with reminders of Maximus and the lessons he taught me in that short time we were together. My heart has a part of it that looks a bit like this jacket - now mended but scarred. I think I’ll put on my special jacket and take my mended heart out for a walk. It's a beautiful day out.
“With only two
Just me and you
Not so many things we got to do
Or places we got to be
We’ll sit beneath the mango tree now
It’s always better when we’re together…”
(Better Together, Jack Johnson)
