When one is raised in a military family, and a slightly alcoholic one at that, one learns a to create and maintain an impenetrable façade: everything is okay even when it’s not. Especially when it’s not. Eventually, one may find therapy, thousands and thousands of dollars worth of therapy, and will begin to acknowledge the truth behind the happy face.
Last month or so around this time, things were definitely not okay. A dog attacked one of my hotel guests down at the beach. This hard reality really screws with my façade, but it seems I have nothing to blog about until I tell the truth.
Cosmo the Yorkie was on a leash; the other dog was not. The other dog belonged to a very good friend of mine so the pepper spray was still holstered. Lacy, a spaniel-mix, was a sweet, wonderful girl 99% of the time. But that other one percent of the time a screw wiggled loose in her wiring and some other dog paid. I moved fast, so the rescued Cosmo ended up with only a couple of puncture wounds and a $250 vet bill.
My friend paid for the Yorkie’s vet bill and then made one of the hardest decisions in her life: She had Lacy euthanized. I know she loved her dog more than anything else in the world, just like I love my sweet Oliver. Although it was the only ethical choice she could make, she has not been the same since.
I would like people to believe that I can guarantee my guests’ safety 100 percent of the time, with a blood oath and cross-my-heart thrown in, but I can’t. I know my guests are happier with me than in traditional kenneled environments. And I know that accidents happen even among those wire cages and sterile concrete floors. Still, I expect perfection, especially when it comes to my guests' safety. But, this is one thing I can guarantee - I would never put any dog in a situation that I would not put my beloved Oliver in.
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