Would You Risk Your Life For Your Dog?

On a scale of one to John Wick, how much do you love your dog?

My dog, Duke, passed away almost two years ago now. We rescued him when we thought he was ten, but the vet, when he passed away, said that he was a good four years older than we were told. So making it to what we thought was 13, but was about 17, was very impressive. We didn’t have him for a long time, but we will hold him in our hearts forever. He was my friend, and I miss him every day. And the reason I haven’t used pictures of him is it still breaks my heart to look at them for too long. It was bad enough with these dogs who look like him.

As anyone with a dog knows, when you walk them you see the regulars. You might acknowledge each other you might not. There was one such woman we spoke to whenever we walked Duke, and we chatted regularly. She had bright orange hair, so whenever my husband and I talked about her, we referred to her as the orange-haired lady. Eventually, we learned her dog’s name was Louis, so she became Louis’s mum.

One ferociously mild day, I took Duke for a walk and bumped into her. She was her usual friendly self, but then warned me that people were picking up dogs and stealing them in the parks at the moment. Then she said if someone tried that with Louis, her King Charles Spaniel, she would have to stab them.

“I mean there’s no other way, is there?” She questioned.

“Not that I can see,” I replied.

We went our separate ways and I carried on toward the park. Unperturbed by the news on a personal level. Duke was a particularly large Transylvanian Hound. He came up to my hip and weighed about 75lbs (34 kilos). If they picked him up and ran with him, they weren’t getting very far. He was a scary-looking dog and didn’t look as old as he was. So people had a healthy respect for him, which meant they avoided me. If a man was showing fear around him, I wouldn’t reassure them. I let them think he was aggressive. Or at least he would be if they came any closer.

If people had known that boy was afraid of his own shadow, ran upstairs when he heard snooker balls knocking together on the TV, and wouldn’t sleep without his pink blanky, they might have changed their tune.

But still, I knew that if someone did try to take him, it wouldn’t go down well. I was always well-accessorised when I went for a walk. I’ve lived in some real shit-hole neighbourhoods, so I’ve always considered that a necessity.

He was an old man, he wasn’t tough. He acted like it sometimes. I remember when someone walked past me, and he was ranting very loudly about something. I think he may have had some mental health issues. Let’s just say I’m glad Duke was in the van. He was growling, snarling and barking like I’d never seen, throwing himself at the window to get out.

But when it came to other dogs, he was clueless. He was always getting bullied, and I was pulling him away like an overprotective mother. So I knew if he was gonna be used as anything it would be a bait dog. So you would have had to pry him out of my cold dead hands.

Would you protect your dog with your life? Or any of your animals?

I would do the same for my cat!