The Life and Death of My Dog, Delilah (A Series)

Part 3 - Building Fences, Making Plans

Delilah May Diaz, October 2017

The previous installment can be found here

In the morning I simply had to get up to let them out and make sure they were set for the day. And when I got home I would make sure they were fed and watered, and then we would talk about our respective days while I made dinner. OK, I did all the talking, but sometimes they seemed to be listening. And if I was in the kitchen Delilah was sure to be lying on her side, two feet behind me so I had just enough room to cook, but would still constantly trip over her and curse.

She never moved.

At night the three of us would crawl into my queen-sized bed, and sometimes, they would let me sleep. Most nights they would climb up and decide that now was the time to once again start wrestling and play “upside-down-bite-face.” Sometimes they would wait until I was asleep to wrestle, and then I would bitch at them. Eventually, they would let me sleep.

My particular favorite was when Delilah would decide at three in the morning that it was time to pet her, so in the midst of a deep, dream-filled sleep she would promptly take her massive paw and punch me square in the face.

That was the best.

Initially after the divorce Kristin would come over to what was now my house and spend time with the dogs one night at week. This lasted for a few weeks, and then it just stopped. I had used it as my way to stay away from home on those nights, to head out from work and meet friends for a beer or something. I never really considered how weird it would be for Kristin to be in the house that she had moved out of recently, but it didn’t last very long.

I remember being hurt, not for me, the divorce, though painful, was the right decision, but for the dogs. I couldn’t imagine abandoning them, but then again, I hadn’t needed to. They were still with me and though I loved them dearly from the beginning, they became essential to me when it was just us three, me and them. From Kristin’s perspective, I can see that they may be an anchor of sorts to a life that simply no longer existed.

During her last stay with them she left me a note saying that she would not be returning, noting that Delilah was a large and dangerous dog. I didn’t see it at the time, but ultimately, she was right.

We’ll get to that soon enough.

A couple of years later Delilah got to meet Shalee, the love of my life, and from that moment on she (Shalee) had a new shadow. Remember how I noted that whenever I was in the kitchen that Delilah would be lying down just behind my feet?

Not if Shalee was over.

As much as the beast loved me, she loved Shalee more. Wherever Shalee was sitting, whatever room she was in, Delilah was there, right there, either at her feet or climbing up onto the couch to snuggle with Shalee.

Fast forward again to when I met the girls (now our girls), and then a year or two after that we talked very seriously about combing our tribes, hers pink and fleshy, and mine, squat and hairy. At my place I had an underground fence. We considered the same at Shalee’s, but decided that though it would be far more expensive, a fenced in backyard seemed like a lovely addition.

And so we had a plan: we’d build a fence in the backyard, move my mutts in, sell my house, I’d move in, and then happily ever after.

There were some warning signs with Delilah, that in hindsight are very 20/20, but missed at the time.

On occasion, whether for weekend or work trips, my mother had watched my dogs for me. My brother’s son was a toddler, and my mom said that Delilah had growled at him. I asked if he had stared her down, as dogs can see that as aggression. She said that he hadn’t. This was all very odd, because Kristin had friends with a toddler, and one day they came over with their son and he had climbed all over Delilah. Having never seen her around children I was hesitant and watchful. They were unconcerned, having their own massive Saint Bernard, a male, named Zeus at home. They noted that at 140+ pounds how gentle he was around their son.

Still, I kept a watchful eye the whole night, but Delilah tolerated everything, never once making a peep as he constantly invaded her personal space.

That was a couple of years back, so I had no reason to think that Delilah would be aggressive around children. I didn’t know what to think about what my mother had said, but one night I went over to her house to retrieve my dogs. My nephew came up the stairs and moved toward Delilah, shuffling along in a non-threatening manner. Delilah lunged forward and barked once right in his face, her jaws snapping in a defensive measure as her massive head was on the recoil. In fear, my nephew had quickly stumbled back, falling backward onto his rear.

My mom didn’t have to explain anything anymore. From that moment on, it was obvious that Delilah didn’t like small children. As such, I would not be bringing Delilah over there anymore. She was 130lbs with massive, powerful jaws. Yes, she snapped slightly on the recoil, but she was far too large a dog with too powerful of a bite to risk another such encounter.

Delilah could only go to grandma’s if there were no children over from then on. She never had a problem with adults, save strange males. She loved my mother, and oddly enough, never once shied away from my father. Perhaps he looked and/or smelled close enough like me that she was just never bothered by him.

Still, this now defensive, possibly aggressive, nature of Delilah’s was only the warning of things to come, I just didn’t know that yet.

At some point, I don’t remember when exactly, Shalee and I started talking about combining our households. My furkids started coming over for sleepovers and initially, everything went very well.

Remember how very much Delilah loved me, but cast me aside whenever Shalee was around?

She did the same thing to Shalee for MaKenlee. Yes, Delilah still loved me, but if Shalee was upstairs, then Delilah was her shadow, but if MaKenlee was around, Shalee and I might as well have been dead for all Delilah cared. Wherever MaKenlee was, Delilah was right there as well.

My favorite example of this was during one of these weekend sleepovers with the dogs when sadly, poor Makie had a cold. She felt miserable, so she was given some cold medicine and put to bed. Sometime later we could not find Delilah. She wasn’t at Shalee’s feet, she wasn’t near Samson, she was just nowhere.

I went into the girls’ bedroom when we started the search, expecting Delilah to be at the foot of MaKenlee’s bed, but no, she was not there.

There was no way she could have opened the slider or any of the doors to get outside, so we searched around the house to find her. We checked the utility room and both downstairs bedrooms, the bathrooms, everywhere, but she just seemed to be gone.

How could a dog that big disappear?

With nowhere else to look, I again cracked open the door to the girls’ bedroom, Makie and Anilee sound asleep. The only place we had not searched was the nine inch gap between Makie’s bed and the far wall, it was simply too narrow of a space. Without any further ideas, I whispered into the room, “Delilah?”

Nothing.

Slightly louder, trying not to wake the girls: “Delilah,” said in a melodic, sing-songy way.

I heard some faint rustling coming from the end of the room.

I said her name again.

More rustling, turning to struggling, and then, like some kind of oversized stuffed animal, I noticed Delilah, rising from the ground, wedged between MaKenlee’s bed and the wall, how, I will never know. I honestly didn’t think that she could possibly fit in that space, but there she was, fighting against the limited space to eventually stand up, then ever-so-slowly squeeze herself up and backwards as she wiggled herself out of the space.

Without climbing onto her bed and lying next to her, this was literally as close as Delilah could get to Makie. She loved Makie, and knowing that she was ill (dogs just seem to know; they probably smell it on us) was concerned for her and wanted to be right there next to her.

I laughed at how ridiculous and adorable it all was.

But Delilah loved her completely, until she didn’t.

With the dogs spending time with the kids regularly it was time to figure out how to contain them. At my house, on a much smaller piece of land, my ex- and I had gone through and installed a wire around the perimeter to create our own invisible “fence.” No, we didn’t spend the money on the trademarked name of such, we did it ourselves with a knock-off product. It worked great for Samson, he would stay away from the “fenceline” without issue, even if other dogs came by.

Delilah either wasn’t phased by it, or just didn’t mind the pain of the electrical zap. We bought longer probes to make sure that the shock collar touched her skin through her thick fur, and even turned her collar up to full blast.

There were more than a few times when one of the dogs (almost always Delilah, but a couple of times it was Sam) when I’d have to go grab them, but to get them back into the yard I’d have to remove the collar so it wouldn’t shock them again as they crossed the threshold. Almost every time the collar would be in my hand with the contacts touching my palm as I crossed, meaning yeah, I shocked myself more than once.

It was not pleasant at all. I wouldn’t have escaped the yard if I wore that.

But not Delilah.

It didn’t stop her. If she wanted out of the yard she went, every single time.

As such, Samson was allowed to roam the full yard with his proximity collar, while Delilah was moved to a 30-foot polymer encased chain lead while at my house.

As Shalee’s yard was much larger we discussed and decided upon spending money on a nice, wooden fence, that way the dogs could have the entire yard to run around, play, do whatever, all while being enclosed safely in our yard.

To be continued…