Meet Lola (left) & Guinness (right).

Both under a year & both so excited to have the house to themselves for the weekend.

Well…ok…I made up that last part.

I’m puppy-sitting once again – this time over the holiday weekend while their owners – both in the Army – are off on a romantic getaway to Jeju Island. They had put in a request to board them at Osan almost 50 days ago & were still number 2 on the waiting list. Osan’s just not big enough to kennel more than a few dogs at a time.

So for the next 4 days these little boogers & I are going to be the best of friends. And I’m bound to have at least a couple of great stories out of the whole experience.

But don’t worry - later tonight I’ll pick-up again on the gift story. Just thought you’d like a glimpse of these two.

[more about these two shortly]

The first few days without Libby were hard.

Moo & Kitten kept looking around for her – tentative that she would come bounding around a corner to pounce on them.

Libby had become such a fixture of our daily routine that nothing felt right without her.

But the truth of it is that managing her – even in the house – was a full-time job.

And without that job to do any longer I couldn’t sit still.

Chaos had become such a habit that I couldn’t recognize what peace felt like anymore.

But there was peace in the house again & it took me a good 2 - 3 days to just be able to sit still without feeling ancy.

If you had asked me how long we had Libby, I would’ve told you years.

In fact I had to flip back through my journal just to remember when it was that we first found her.

[saying hello to Eric & Moo]

Five months ago.

Five months that felt like 5 years – 5 years of hard work.

Life was returning to normal. The guilt was beginning to slip away. And then these two entered the picture.

[realizing we live on this side of the fence]

Mutt & Jeff, for all intents & purposes. I don’t know their real names.

Two little male Jindo mix pups owned by….

…can you guess?…

[...and wanting to come over]

The family with the two little boys who wanted to pet Libby come Hell or high water.

Yeah – those two.

Our duplex-mate who owns Paco, the Chihuahua & Cocoa, a Pekingese went into labor yesterday.

And in their rush to get out the door they asked if I would watch their dogs while they were gone.

Of course I said yes – it’s what I do.

And as I let the two of them out into their backyard, Mutt & Jeff wiggled through the fence they share on the other side.

[very grateful to be let out]

They’re maybe 3 months old?…if that.

Both solid white (the standard for pure-bred Jindos in Korea) – but one is long & lean, while the other is short & squatty.

Brothers. Cute as can be. Tons of energy.

And…com….pletely….un….socialized.

These two pups are outside dogs & the two boys have been allowed to “handle them” any way they see fit. 

Skiddish…food aggressive already…fur already up the minute they see Paco…and desperate for attention.

Since they’re still young enough not to hurt our neighbor’s dogs…I let them all play together.

But watching them was bittersweet.

It brought up all those first feelings with Libby – but at the same time made me very curious to see what the next few months will hold for these dogs…and the boys.

Over the course of the evening, each time I let Paco & Cocoa out – Mutt & Jeff would wiggle back through the fence…and each time we played & played.

I guess they needed puppy therapy as much as I did.

I had managed to keep Libby away from the boys.

Needless to say the stress level in our house was through the roof. And Friday was drawing closer – the day we would take Libby to the Osan vet. And we were still wishing in vain denial that they could place her somewhere, anywhere rather than put her down.

On our last walk together I kept looking at her wondering where we went wrong.

Did I show her enough affection? Did I not discipline her enough?

It was heart-wrenching. How could she go from such a cute puppy to such a vicious dog?

When we were alone on our walks - without any distractions - she was a joy to be with.

It was nice to walk at a faster pace. Now that Moo has mellowed into early adulthood, walking her is like walking a cow.

Which is great for a leisurely stroll, but no sense of purpose. Libby had that purpose.

And she was so happy to be outside – enjoying the openness, sniffing everything, tongue wagging out the side of her mouth.

She wanted to track every scent she came across.

Seeing this “good side” of her that last night made the decision that much more difficult.

I walked her back home in tears - questioning again if we were doing the right thing.

And as we entered the gate, there was Little One again.

Libby tried to lunge for her, but I had a good grip on the leash. And as I went to grab the back of her collar to get more control over her, it happened again.

This time she lashed out at the back of my leg.

Libby was quick, but I managed to be just a little quicker this time around.

While she didn’t tear my flesh, she did get a good enough grip to scratch me & leave a big, deep bruise.

And any doubt I had about our decision to take her to Osan slipped away, but not the tears.

I loved her. I truly did. But I had to do the right thing.

So Friday morning we loaded her up into the car & prepared ourselves to say goodbye to Libby.

Everyone at the clinic was wonderful – all truly supportive & deeply sorry for us. You couldn’t ask for nicer people.

And as I began to describe her personality change, the vet tech saw my arm.

She turned it to get a better look, then took my hand in her’s & said,

“You did nothing wrong. This isn’t your fault. You did everything you could & sometimes this just happens – whether from genetics or breed or both.”

And I lost it.

Completely. Totally. Lost it.

Big ugly tears on a face that was already swollen from night after night of tears.

They allowed us to sit with her a bit more & she laid down underneath my legs – uncertain of her surroundings & what was going on.

As we were about to finally leave, I sat her up & tried to get her to look at me.

But she wouldn’t. She was too busy looking at the other dog who had come in.

I bent down…

put my forehead on her’s….

and whispered…

‘I love you……I’m so sorry I failed you……goodbye, Libby.”

[read pt 1 & pt 2 to catch up]

It’s hard to remember when the new behavior started – maybe a month & a half ago? I’m just not sure.

What I do know is that she was escalating & there was nothing I could do to stop it.

One afternoon she was playing with the neighbor’s dog in our backyard. Something she’d done from day one. And when the dog went to take a drink out of the dog bowl I had put out for Libby, Libby raced up to the bowl & barked at him.

It wasn’t a pleasant bark. It was a defensive, territorial, ‘get-away-from-the-bowl’ bark.

It caught me totally by surprise – I could even see the surprise in the little dog’s face. He sat there, big eyes blinking – trying to figure out what just happened. Libby was his friend.

But something had changed.

Libby began shooing Kitten away from the bowl inside the house – the one that they’ve all shared before without issue. And it was about the same time that Libby began taking Maggie’s treats away.

When we went on late afternoon walks, she would suddenly try to lunge at one of the neighborhood cats or Little One, our custodian’s sweet little Pekingese mix.

At first it was growls & whines of ‘you-have-to-let-me-go-get-her’.

And it wasn’t long until she started to growl & bark at people on the street. Then she began growling at children – even when they stood 50 feet away.

We were still working on her leash training & so in order to have her focus on the training, not the distractions, I began walking her late in the evening – just before dusk, when everyone would be inside.

But every now & then we would still come across one of the cats or Little One.

And one night on our way back into the complex, Little One was standing smack dab in the middle of the gate to get in.

I took it as an opportunity to work on disciplining Libby, getting her to focus on me – not the dog, a chance to try to stop this behavior altogether.

But the more I put my foot down, the more Libby began to rail against me.

And then it happened.

In Libby’s desperation to get Little One, she turned as if to bite my leg.

I knew she was trying to scare me into letting her go & I wasn’t buying it.

But Little One did.

With the ‘rrraaahhhhwwww’ sound Libby made & how close she got to actually biting me…Little One, gentle soul that she is, began defending me.

She barked & barked & barked. Standing her little ground – fussing at Libby, which only made Libby worse.

I wound up having to pick Libby up & carry her back home.

It was beyond frustrating.

In the house, while yes – Libby was becoming a bully – she still showed signs of sweetness. And it was easy sometimes to look at her & forget the violent nature she was beginning to exhibit outside.

So imagine everyday with more of the same.

More worrying when I began to take her out if we’ll run into another animal or another person…God forbid a child.

Everything was spiralling out of control.

And when the boy scouts began setting up their tents in our woods, I had to find another path to walk her at night.

So the next night we passed a new & very territorial Rottweiler mix owned by an American couple. Even though he was in their fenced backyard, I was still concerned.

It was a struggle to keep her under control & just get past him – even being as far away from him as possible. She kept trying to wiggle out of her collar.

And I knew we’d have to walk back past him to get home.

I was tired. I was frustrated. So on the way back I braced myself for the struggle – deciding to just pick her up & walk on.

And she was not happy about it.

She wanted that dog. That dog wanted her.

And this time, Libby wasn’t playing.

It happened in an instant.

The pain shot through my arm – and it went deep.

It hurt like Hell, started radiating down my arm & I knew…I just knew that I had to be bleeding – and badly.

But I didn’t let go of her.

I kept walking until we were far out of sight from the other dog before I put her down.

Through tears I stopped to check myself out.

Two deep puncture wounds in my upper arm. She had only got me with the right side of her mouth – otherwise, I’d have at least 4 – and I was bleeding internally.

I got her home. Got myself cleaned up. Cleaned out the wound.

And I couldn’t stop crying.

Crying over the physical pain – crying over the emotional pain.

What were we going to do with her?

[read what happened next]

No matter where I go in Korea – no matter where I look,

…the first thing I see is the dogs.

They’re everywhere.

It drives me crazy and it breaks my heart.

Where others see something to fear, I see something to love.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not naive.

I’m not running up to each & every dog squealing, “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?”

I know to treat each of these dogs with the respect you should give any unfamiliar animal - because as sad as their existence is, they have a job.

And they do it well.

[this is Red & Ginger, by the way...dogs I'll tell you about another time]

I think Koreans must view big dogs as car alarms – because none of them are the stereotypical vicious guard dogs that you come across from time to time at home.

These are watch dogs – sounding out an alarm whenever anyone comes too close.

And just like any other car alarm these days, no one really pays attention to them – both literally & figuratively.

But a dog is more than an alarm.

A dog is a companion – big or small.

It’s just a different kind of companionship.

Little dogs will gladly sit in your lap, content to spend time with you in the comfort of air conditioning.

Where big dogs gladly go for long walks, content to spend time with you in the great outdoors.

And everywhere I look I see dogs that will never know companionship.

Dogs that never get to experience healthy pack behavior.

Who are left alone to spend out their days on a short lead – never to be truly fulfilled.

And it breaks my heart.

I swear…Korea is going to be the death of me.

It seems if Korea can’t kill me physically, its gonna try killing me emotionally.