I didn't feel like writing the full story a few days ago, but I decided to tell everybody how Duke died(see original post).
On July 20, Dad put Duke down.
The reason why? Well, as some of you probably suspected, re-homeing a two year old uneautered male German Shepherd that had been at three previous homes probably wouldn't end well.
Duke had originally been bought as a pup by an elderly lady. She finally decided that he was to energetic, and, having never trained him well in the first place, decided to rehome him. Another family took him, then passed him on to my uncle's wife's family. They also lived in town (like all the previous families), and his energy was also too much for them.
(Now, an important point to this story, is that Duke, while with my aunt's family, attached to their youngest daughter. My uncle, never a animal or dog person, always was leery of him. He said that he never trusted him, and Duke had shown signs of agression to him before they passed him on to us.)
They told us that they were giving him away, and thinking of Nova, we took him.
He had obviously been "socialized", or he would not have been able to be passed around like he was. But even then, the first day we had him(after Dad had made a sudden movement as he bent to pick something up), he snarled at Dad. Also, the next morning, after sending Dock out to check on him, he growled at him.
As he got used to us(and we got used to him), we thought that we would indeed be able to keep him, as he didn't show signs of agression again to Dock and Dad. He was also never agressive towards his food. He never was agressive ever to me or Mom, and me and him bonded. It was quickly evident that he was my dog, as he attached to me.
Now, as I have told everybody before, he had issues with our dogs, and several times attacked Nova, once or twice giving her puncture wounds, so while being loose with her he had to have a muzzle.
Wayne and Junior never accepted him, and Wayne was always sneaking up on him and nipping his back leg(none of our dogs were/are socialized with people or other dogs). So we devised the systom of kenneling Wayne and Junior during the day, and Duke during the night.
Nova came into heat, they bred, and after that Duke never was agressive to her, or her to him, so he was able to be loose without a muzzle.
To wrap all this up, Nova died, and while letting Wayne and Junior loose(thinking that they would be alright with Duke for a few minutes), Wayne jumped Duke, and after Duke grapped his paw, literally picking Wayne and tossing him in the air for about 2 seconds, he completly crushed his paw(back to the kenneling system described previously).
Also, he started running along the fenceline chasing cars, and when Mom and I would walk him, he would lunge and snarl as cars passed. Even though he had been socialized, after being with us for a couple months, he became vicious towards strangers.
Anyways, sometime this spring, Dock and Dad were playfully roughhousing and shoving one another in front of the shop. I was standing, and, as always, Duke was sitting on the ground next to me.
As Dock and Dad made their ways towards us, Duke slowly stood up and went into his "wolf walk". This was whenever he was stalking something (like he was always trying to do to the goats), he would half crouch, half walk, with slanted eyes and hackles raised, towards it, and would really look like a wolf when a wolf is hunting and stalking prey.
This freaked Mom out, and she quietly but urgently told Dad and Dock to stop, and instructed them to never raise their voices around Duke.
Fast forward to June 20, around 1:00 in the afternoon. Duke was laying in the lawn with a bone. As Dock was walking aproximately 15 feet away from him, he said that Duke without any warning at all sprang at him and bit him. Dock was lucky enough to in the blink of an eye see him coming and lean away, so Duke only bit and ripped his pants. He then walked back to his bone and layed back down.
Mom came running, and after Dock told her what happened and saw the ripped pant leg, she came inside where I was practicing violin and told me that Duke would be euthanized the next day.
It took me several minutes to process what she had said, and then the realization rushed over me that Duke would never be able to run through the pastures with me, be with me, love me.
We couldn't have a vicious dog who was agressive to men.
So when Dad got home from work that night and heard the story, he went outside and put Duke down.
This seems cruel, but it was painless, and the only logical thing to do. He had a good life with us, and never felt any pain when he died.
So that's Duke's story.
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