Nicholas Shafarzek Who knows if/song/book/movie Who knows if it's good or bad? No one. Recently my dog Bella died. Naturally I thought this was a bad thing, as I am not religious and I don't believe she is in a "better place" now, I just think she no longer exists. even so I saw possible opportunities in her death. My optimism knows no bounds. When we got our new dog Kahlua the opportunities were fully realized and a new door opened, while Bella's door closed. Naturally I thought this was a good thing, our getting a new dog. But to take a very unlike me and pessimistic approach, how could this go badly? Who knows if it's good or bad? No one. But we can always speculate. Cali is a Rottweiler. A perfect german dog for our german family. Even so Rottweilers get a bad rap for being aggressive and unloving. Even just a week ago she tried to grab my hand while I was petting her because she thought I was going to take her bone. That could be explained by the newness of her environment or it could be a preview of things to come. If she ends up hurting one of us we might have to be put down, or worse. And even now I think, uncharacteristically, to myself that rottweilers have shorter lifespans than other dogs. When will I have to go through the loss of another dog again? It's April 30th and Kahlua seems to be settling in nicely. I'm sitting on the oversized chair writing an essay and watching TV while also scratching Kahlua's belly. The show I'm watching is called Deadliest warrior and tonight it's Alexander the Great versus Attila the Hun and Attila is just about to strike the final blow when Kahlua starts acting very strangely. She jumps off the chair and starts growling at me! Me, thinking she wanted to play, threw the frisbee into my room, and continued writing, as Attila had stabbed Alexander the Great through the neck and I had won the pot my friends had made. Then she jumped at me. I pushed her off the couch with a stern NO! but she jumped on me again, this time taking a swipe at me with her paw. As I get up she bites my arm, as if she doesn't even recognize who I am, me, who plays catch with her every day. She had had a stroke. Her loss of memory was permanent, the vets told us, and she would either live a life of constant fear or would have to be put down. My choices are to live with a disabled dog who will never know my face again or let the dog die. How's that for pessimism!
On the other hand, she might continue to grow through our nurturing and become a great family dog until the end of her days, and hapilly at that. No one can see the future. Who knows if it's good or bad?