Yep. It was Wednesday, August 5th. I got home about 7 PM, grabbed the mailbox key, hooked the leash to my friend, and proceeded to walk to the mailbox. I’ve done this evolution virtually every day for three and a half years.
Last night there was nothing in the mailbox, so we headed home. We passed two children with sticks. OK, they were more like small branches, that they were hitting on the asphalt. Bobby, my friend, didn’t like the noise so he avoided the children. Then we passed two ladies talking in the middle of the street. As was my habit, I was video chatting with my girlfriend during the walk.
My girl had just handed the phone to her three-year-old niece when I saw him. A pit bull passed me on the left side, almost brushing against my leg, and grabbed my dog by the head and neck. He then shifted to biting my dog’s right rear leg. The pit bull lifted my dog, all 16 pounds, right off the ground. I screamed “Let go” and tried to grab the pit bull on the side of the mouth. No way was I putting my hand inside his mouth; not that there was room.
Someone tried to get the dog to release mine, but it would not. After about four tries, the pit bull released my dog’s leg. As the pit bull let go of my dog I heard someone say, “this is the third time he’s done that.”
I knew the instant that I saw the injury and heard his cries of pain that he wouldn’t make it… but you hope anyway.
I needed to get him to a doctor. I carefully picked the dog up, being sure not to put any pressure on his mangled leg. I made the comment that “I am probably going to have to put him down.”
The dog’s owner said, “I probably will have to do that too.”
I noticed that there was blood across Bobby’s stomach from the teeth puncturing his belly. We started walking home. A man that I never turned to look at, offered me a ride home. I declined and kept walking.
As we had left the house earlier, I noticed that my neighbors were in the yard. As we started to pass their property on the way home, I called out as loud as I could “Will.” No response. I went a bit further and called again. No response. As I rounded the corner and headed for the driveway I called again. “Will! I need help.” At that point, he came out of his house. As I got closer to him, I said, “Bobby just got attacked by a pit bull. I need help.”
Will and his wife came out to help. His wife got a towel and they had me sit in the passenger seat of their car. The towel was placed in my lap, and then I lowered Bobby gently onto my lap. I was careful not to put any pressure on his leg. Will got his cell phone and I got mine. We tried desperately to find a veterinarian to help—remember all these places are closed after 5 PM. Both local vets were out of town and too far away to help.
As this was going on, Will said that there was a green pickup at my house. I told him that it must be the owner of the other dog. Will spoke with him briefly but I don’t know what was said. Will came back to his house, and we continued dialing for help.
After about 20 minutes of futility, Will found a 24-hour emergency pet clinic. The bad news was that it was an hour and a half driver away. With no other alternatives, we headed to the clinic in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.
As he got in the car, Will tried to pet Bobby on the head. Bobby yelped. This was where he was first bitten and it hurt him. There was saliva from the other dog on various parts of his head and neck. As we began our journey, I removed his walking harness. Yes, my dog was on a leash and within two or three feet of me when attacked. We were on the opposite side of the street from where the other dog lived.
I found a place to scratch him just behind his front leg. Will had made a comment that Bobby was in shock, and I think he was right. About halfway to our destination, Bobby began panting and his respiration changed. It was subtle but noticeable. After a while his panting stopped. Every once in a while, I had to adjust Bobby because of speed changes and some turns cause his weight to shift slightly. The entire trip he never made a sound; not even a whimper.
And yes, Bobby was always this quiet. Never once in the ten years that we had him as a pet, did he ever bark at another animal that barked at him first. Only once did he ever respond in a defensive manner to any human. The guy that triggered his ire was a smelly, drug addicted, homeless man that jumped out of the bushes and headed towards my wife and I one day back in Elk Grove. Bobby didn’t like that guy, and we felt that his response was justified. Other than the homeless guy, Bobby only wanted to make friends and get tummy scratches. He knew no fear or to be afraid.
Will finally got us to the vet hospital. It was near the Toyota dealer where I had traded Sheryl’s Jeep last year after nobody could fix the vehicle’s death rattle. He let me off at the front door and then went to get a parking place.
I couldn’t open the door enough to get inside. A lady came from behind the counter and opened the door for me. My first surprise was how busy this place was. The majority of seats in the waiting area were filled with other people and their pets. I told the lady that my dog was attacked by a pit bull.
A man came out of the back room to get Bobby. He wasn’t paying attention to Bobby’s injury, and I refused to hand the dog to him. I explained, no, you can’t hold him like that because his leg was injured. It took two tries but finally the guy was willing to hold Bobby in such a way that he didn’t touch the injured leg. I was told they would check his vitals and report back. A short time later I heard him yelp.
Then a long period of time lapsed. Finally, I was asked if I would allow them to give Bobby some pain meds and I agreed. A short time later, they also mentioned x-rays and wanted authorization. I was thinking to myself, it’s about time.
I knew when the x-rays were happening. The sickening and very long yelps from Bobby were unmistakable cries of pain and anguish. Three times he cried out. I was heartbroken. Remember, this was after they gave him pain medicine.
I had kept Will with me most of my time there. I wanted him around for support and also as a witness. He had let me know that this was not his first rodeo when it came to the dogs in his care. He had just had to deal with euthanizing one of his dogs about six weeks ago.
Another long period elapsed. Finally, the verdict was in. The doctor met Will and I in an examination room. He explained Bobby’s situation like this: his leg was not broken, but the hip joint in the pelvic region was a mess. Unlike humans with a ball and socket joint, the dog’s leg is attached by connective tissues, ligaments, muscles, etc. This joint was destroyed. If he set the leg, it would not be enough. It would be easy to come out again. Bobby would need surgery right away with no guarantee of success. If he had the surgery, he would have limited use of the leg and be in pain for the rest of his days. Walking, going up steps, getting into and out of my bed, which were things that happened many times each day, would all be painful and hazardous for him. In short, Bobby would never be the same again.
Oh, the leg setting would be about $2,000 and the surgery would be as much as $6,000. I imagine that there would be other costs as well, but they weren’t discussed. Folks, injuries like this are a financial rabbit hole that most mortals just can’t afford to go down.
In addition, they never checked Bobby for other injuries, but I suspect they could have found them had they checked.
A few months ago, some people in my church discussed this very subject. They ran up a bill for their pet in excess of $11,000 and the pet died despite the extraordinary treatment. Imagine you did all that for your pet, it dies, and you still get to pay the medical bills. Is that the reminder of your Fluffy that you want? I doubt it.
So, I knew what was coming but not the particulars. That was the thing I noticed about my wife’s death as well. You knew the final outcome but the path to get there was unexpected. Life is not the simple, linear progression that you see in movies and popular novels.
After explaining that Bobby’s quality of life would be crap and that I couldn’t really afford to help him, the decision was obvious. But it was mine to make.
My wife made her own decision to end it all when she quit using oxygen and stopped eating. Either would kill her, but both made it a matter of days until her end. At that point it was just a matter of running out the clock. However, this decision about Bobby was on me.
I spoke with Will and then I asked how it would be done. I was told there were two injections and it was quick. I then asked to be with Bobby when it happened. They asked if I needed time with him? I responded just a minute.
Bobby was given an IV setup and then brought into the examination room. The lady had two syringes with her. I petted him on the neck and nose. I told him that I love him. I thanked him for being my friend. I told him that I would miss him. I prayed that God would somehow let Bobby be with Sheryl. He was a blessing to both of us. I noticed that his eyes were very dilated. I was told it was from the previously administered pain killers.
After a quick goodbye, I told the lady that she could give him the injection. Within ten seconds or so, his head went slowly to the table. He went limp. 20 seconds after the injection, Bobby was dead.
She checked him with a stethoscope and confirmed that he was gone. She wrapped Bobby in a clean blanket and brought him to us at the rear entrance to the clinic. It’s not good public relations to see dead animals leaving out the front door of your veterinary clinic, so we couldn’t be seen going that way to get in the car.
I could have had him cremated but I don’t believe in that for people so why do it to my puppy friend? No, I don’t confuse animals with people, but I wanted to honor him for the joy that he brought both of us and especially me after Sheryl died.
Will took Bobby from the lady and carried him to the hatch of his car. Bobby was placed on a soft blanket or something like that. The hatch was closed and we made the hour and one-half trek back to Bonners Ferry. The time was about 11:30 PM.
We arrived just after 1 AM. Will had indicated that he wanted to bury Bobby right then. He said don’t worry, the ground is easy to shovel. As he made the hole, I couldn’t help but think of all the old horror movies where one guy did the digging and the other holding a lantern, watched the fog for movement.
Once the hole was dug, I opened the blanket to get Bobby’s collar. It was easy to tell which end was his head. The body was still warm when I touched it. I closed the blanket back up and then lowered him in the hole about 5 feet from the only tree in my yard. It is an old gnarly apple tree. I silently said a few words over him including thanking God for the gift he had given us in this little dog. I took the shovel and covered the body of my friend. Will tidied up the grave and went home to bed.
I went inside and took a shower. I smelled musky like the excretions of Bobby’s anal glands. At 2 AM I got into bed. I woke up at 5 AM. I was up for the day.
I could go on, but this is probably a good stopping point for documenting Bobby’s death.
Epilogue
I cried that night and often since because Bobby was the last part of my wife that I had left in my life.
My best friend, my puppy friend, was gone. The last part of my wife was ended. Sheryl is truly and completely gone now. My house is truly empty for the very first time ever. Bobby was the embodiment of all my happy memories with my wife Sheryl stuffed into a loving, furry body with four very short legs. Bobby was my reminder of the happy times in my marriage and also of my son when he was living at home; before he made stupid life choices. Bobby was my companion for the better part of ten years. He went almost everywhere with me except overseas. As the guy behind the camera, there are few, if any, photos of us together.
The vet told me to file a police report about the attack. Being this is rural Idaho; I have no idea if anything results from my complaint but there is a case number logged as a result of the attack. My dad suggested that I contact a lawyer and see if they can get me some compensation for the other guy’s homeowner’s insurance. I don’t know what that is supposed to be, but I did it. I made an appointment yesterday. When you are experiencing the trauma like this and have had only three hours of sleep, you follow what makes sense at the time.
Oh, Will paid the vet bill for me, and I must pay him back. Attorney Mario already picked my pocket this month, so I didn’t have the funds to pay the vet.
I think I told my tale accurately. I’m still suffering from a lack of sleep and the trauma of a most unexpected curveball thrown into my life.
Bobby’s beds, carrier, and toys have been washed. I will be donating most of his stuff somewhere or another in the next couple of days.
I really miss my bed buddy. It is really weird to get the whole mattress to myself. His reputation for hogging the blankets is legendary. He earned the name “chastity dog” because he kept my wife and I on opposite sides of the bed for many years.
Bobby was part of our family from his adoption at the rescue shelter on December 31, 2016, until his murder on August 5, 2026. I love you, my little friend. Well done. Thank you for being part of my life, and that of my family.
