I was recently asked by a friend of mine if I would watch over his dog. It is pertinent to the story to know that I am a bit more financially well off than he is. He was going to be out of the country for several months, and as I was the most accessible and had the biggest yard, and I lived in a rural area, I was elected for the job. As we had been friends for many, many years, though saw each other less often than either of us would like, I accepted the chore, albeit with some trepidation.
When he dropped the dog off I was stunned to find out it was an Afghan Hound dog. Why hadn't I asked that, why hadn't I known? Now I was worried. It was big, it was hairy and it barked a lot. What had I gotten myself into? Before my friend left he made sure to insist I take care of and protect his dog, which he obviously loved.
Over time I settled into a routine, but I found that I was always cleaning up loose hair around my house. I finally decided it would be best for me, the dog and my friend if I paid to have the dog shaved. So off to the groomers we went! That turned out to be a great idea, so for the duration of his stay I brought the dog - Liberty - to the groomers every week.
As time went on I kept remembering how my friend would talk about Liberty fathering another litter of pups. So, another scathingly brilliant idea entered my head. Why not get him neutered? Surely that would take care of any possibility of my friend having any responsibility for any female dogs getting pregnant. So, off to the vet we went. Liberty was home from the vet a couple days later, and I felt pretty darn good that I could help my friend who obviously didn't have the money to take care of that particular problem.
But there was still the problem of Liberty barking so much. What to do, what to do? Off I went to the vets, and they sold me a muzzle. Now I always thought muzzles were for biters, but I was assured that the contraption would stop the dog from barking. The vet showed me how to put it on the dog, and back to the house we went. I noticed after a week or so that Liberty's behavior was changing. He was getting more aggressive, less friendly, and he whined all the time. I wasn't sure what to do about that, so I decided to let it slide until my friend came home.
Three months finally passed and the big day arrived. My friend was flying in that afternoon. I went out with Liberty for one last grooming, affixed the muzzle, and off we went to the airport. I was imagining my friends surprise and delight when he saw Liberty - muzzled, newly groomed (shaved), and now neutered. To my utter disappointment and bewilderment, when my friend saw his dog and learned I had also neutered the dog as a gift to him, my friend became very, very angry, started yelling at me, furious, that I had ruined his dog.
Then it dawned on me! This wasn't just any dog, after all. It never was. This was a show dog, a dog of the highest caliber. What had I done? In my desire to help my friend, I only succeeded in destroying his most prized possession.
I wonder if obama will get that message about Liberty today...
Stand With God, Stand For Liberty, Prepare To Fight For Both!