The Truth About Pedro

Dog discourse is wretchedly heated and divisive online. On my worst days, I add to the ire. This is me, trying to be better.

We were AT the county animal shelter, waiting at the desk to pick up a 50-pound Boxer mix named Pedro, when my mother called to tell me that my father had died.

It was not unexpected. My dad was 90 years old and had been ravaged by Parkinson’s. A fall in winter had left him with a fractured neck. He’d lived longer than anyone predicted, which was the point. For months we’d been putting things off—such as international travel, or getting a dog—thinking we’d be needed to dash back to Minnesota and help my mother.

Finally, we decided we had to live our life. We met Pedro and arranged to adopt him. And there we were, leading a smelly, rambunctious dog out on a leash, as I spoke to my mom about my father’s last hours.

We took Pedro home. My husband, John, bathed and distracted him while I contacted people and talked to family. We set out bowls of food and water, gave Pedro some chew toys, and showed him his bed. He leapt from chair to couch, gnawed on shoes, and lifted his leg on everything upright - including a set of cloth-sided suitcases.

For the next three days, we spent most of our waking minutes trading off dog duty. Pedro had been in the shelter for a year and when they billed him as “housetrained,” it meant - apparently - that he did not relieve himself in his kennel; he did, however, do his business anywhere else he liked. He’d never been aggressive, they said. And it’s true that no matter how rough he played with us, sometimes leaping a full five feet in the air, he didn’t bite. We took this as a good sign.

My father’s funeral was planned, two weeks out. We had time to get Pedro in order we told ourselves. We bought treats he loved and gave him lavish praise for everything from peeing outside to lying down. We taught him to walk with a gentle leader. Our first weekend as a family came and we decided to trial an overnight. Pedro was a terrific car traveler, silent as he watched out the window. We found he loves a hotel and loves a dog park even more. We thought we were in the clear.

So we stopped for lunch at an outdoor cafe. It was sunny and the sidewalk was a little crowded. People kept walking by him…over him. Two or three approached him without warning. Still, things were fine. We relaxed. Then out of nowhere, he lunged at a woman who was facing the other way.