  I killed my dog. &nbsp; Yesterday, I was reading someone's blog yesterday who loved their dog. It seems they had&nbsp;a really good dog.&nbsp;It seems&nbsp;this dog never did most of the rotten things normal dogs do (pee on floors, chew up shoes, whatever). I think it follows that if you can have a 'good' dog, that some dogs are just plain 'bad'. I know this because most of the time over the last nine years I've prefaced the word 'dog' with the word 'bad'. At least when referring to mine.
I don't think I can go into all the bad things he used to do in detail. There are loads of stories. Pretty much every bad thing you can imagine a dog doing, my dog did it. A lot. He never failed to annoy any and every guest we ever had (barking, biting, humping or excreting something on them or their belongings). As you can see, I hated my dog and I had him executed.
That's the short version of the story. Really it is more complicated than that. I used to have a dog growing up - and I adored him. I begged my folks for years for a dog, and I loved him - smartest dog ever. He was a black on tan dauchsund mix. Again - lots of stories there but I can't digress.
Anyway, when my wife found a chocolate coloured mini-dachsund a year after we were married, I reluctantly agreed, and I loved this dog too. I always did. Now that he's gone, the good memories seem to be few. I remember one time I snuck out of work about an hour early on a nice day - didn't pick up the kids - but instead went home,&nbsp;bought&nbsp;some tennis balls, and just played with&nbsp;him for an hour. Man, that dog loved tennis balls. You couldn't really even have tennis balls around the house - because he would go berzerk for them.&nbsp; He could smell them no matter where you put them and the smell drove him nutso.
I saw an Animal Planet special on how they choose and train dogs to do drug sniffing. They look&nbsp;for dogs with near obsessive/compulsive behavior and redirect their obession. Anyway, I think my dog missed his calling.&nbsp; I've never seen a 8 pound drug dog, but he could have been the first. But I need to get back on subject. A few months ago, after weeks of the dog being on tranquilizers for his back pain, and continuing to up the dosage, and him not being able to control his bodily functions. He had ruined the baby's old play pen (which was okay), but then he wouldn't stay in it anymore.
He would never tolerate his kennel cab - he just wen't nuts when you put him in it. My dog could make a&nbsp;scream like a tortured small animal -&nbsp; which was basically what he was when you put him in that thing.&nbsp; I remember him baring his teeth at me and biting me as I let him out of it. I don't think he knew who I was. At 2AM. After we had moved the thing to the opposite side of the house so we (and the kids) couldn't hear him scream&nbsp;(we still could).&nbsp; That was when I decided I would have him put him down the next day.&nbsp; A_ couldn't talk me out of it. She knew something needed to be done&nbsp;but ... well, she wasn't completely against the idea.
&nbsp; And when I held him, shaking on the table, then relaxed after the first shot from the vet, then feeling the life leave him after the second&nbsp;- I'm a little changed and not for the better. Unfeeling. I didn't feel like I deserved to be sad about it. No tears would come, though I felt like he certainly deserved better.&nbsp; Anyway, when I think about dogs - all this flashes through my head. I&nbsp;will never&nbsp;have another dog ... I do know that much.
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