One Less Dog

She was a typical product of backyard breeding - bad tempered, unpredictable, willful, overly protective, suspicious, jealous, violently aggressive, insanely hyper-active, stubborn as a mule and sometimes mean as homemade sin  She carried chaos with her everywhere she went, made absolute shreds of my patience and most of the time I'd have cheerfully strangled her but without her, the house is just a little empty.  Funny,
the things we don't expect to miss.

In her thirteen years, she ate four pairs of glasses and three separate partial dentures.

Not a single squeaky toy survived more than four minutes.

She once consumed an entire 6 pack of Hersey bars without the slightest side effect.

Four sessions of obedience training were completely useless.

She could smell a eucalyptus cough drop at 40 paces, a lipstick at 10.

She hated being bathed and adored the hair dryer.

She had two speeds - asleep and warp drive.

She never forgave me for nicking a toenail during cutting.

She would bite anything with a pulse and required no provocation.  Until she was nine, it took three vet techs and a muzzle to approach her.

She could argue with a fence post all night.

Needed or not, she was a finely tuned alarm system.  Strangers never had a chance.

She considered cats the best of all chew toys.

She had exceptional chase instincts and limitless energy.

She was the poster child for everything you wouldn't want in a dog and she wore me out.

Every behavior modification drug we tried seemed to work in reverse.

And despite it all, I wouldn't give up and I'd likely do it all over again.  I may not have liked her much but I loved her dearly and it was hard to watch her die.  Knowing it was the right thing brings no comfort.  It's not rational but I can't quite shake the feeling that I failed her somehow.  It may be that small voice that whispers in my ear, What is there to miss?

It reminds me of a painful lesson - with people or animals, love is so often not enough.