The Poisoning of a Dog

Gramma

My daughter texted me that her dog, Petra, had died.  She was a sweet brindle pit bull who endured a lot of shit over her eleven years.  My daughter got her used.  She married a man who had no idea how to treat an animal with dignity, respect and love.  The dogs cowered at the non-stop yelling and threat of physical abuse.  But every day was a new slate and Petra and her friend Huxley always greeted him with happy tails and barking conversation. 

My daughter had cervical cancer and can't have children.  Her dogs are her babies.  During one abusive tirade,  her spousal unit held Petra up over his head and body slammed her on a ceramic tile floor.  Then he took my daughter's keys so she couldn't take her to the vet, because he didn't want to get in trouble.  Asshole.  Petra limped for a long time.  Then she came here to stay for awhile. 

She really blossomed in a home with no yelling, no beatings, no stress.  She would play with my dogs all day, then come inside exhausted and happy.  She was so funny, trying to stuff her now fat self into a too small dog bed.  She would sleep there curled up, looking like an overfilled muffin.  But my neighbor did not like her ferocious barking at him.  She had a good sense of character.

So Petra went back to Colorado, where I am sure she was sad because she couldn't run free with her friends.  She had put on some weight.  When she first came here, I told the grandkids to be nice to her because she had a hard life and needed to be loved.  They fawned over her. 

Due to some horrid circumstances that left my daughter homeless, Petra had to live with her abuser for awhile.  My daughter would pick her up for a day or two on weekends when she could.  Petra developed an ear infection that was ignored.  By the time my daughter saw it, the ear had partially rotted.  The vet had to remove most of it.  Really, I could kill this fucker. 

My daughter finally got a place of her own and took the dogs back.  They were thin and nervous, afraid of their own shadows.  They had been pooping in the house and throwing up.  It was likely that they had not been taken outside regularly. 

I can imagine my daughter's reaction to Petra's death.  She was taken to the vet for a tox screen.  She had been poisoned with strychnine while at the dog park.  A dog belonging to a thirty year veteran of the police department had also been poisoned at the same park.  The vet donated the cremation.  The police department paid for the tox screening.  A neighbor who does dog rescue called the news station to make the public aware. 

I am sad for Petra, my daughter and Huxley who is confused by his friend's absence.  My daughter reiterated how she hates people.  I have the same reaction at the same moment when we exchanged texts.  Dogs are family to us.  They don't hurt your feelings and are always bringing love.  The POS who did this better hope my daughter doesn't find him.  I hope she doesn't find him.  I don't want to visit her in jail.