Some dogs aren't wired correctly, and no amount of training or medication can fix that
Dodger airing smallest DeGioia
Photo by Phyllis DeGioia
When my dog lunged at my face, I fell down the stairs. I saw him watch me come up the stairs at 12:30 a.m. He seemed fine, but a moment later he went for my face. I pulled back and fell down half a flight of steep stairs. My head ended up in the bottom level of an open-sided end table. Had I hit my head on the top I could have broken my neck and become a quadriplegic like my mother had been.
Or died.
The vet who euthanized him said I looked like I'd been in a bar fight. I cried on her shoulder.
"If he were healthy, you wouldn't be here this morning," she said, and I knew she was right. I have no doubt that ending his life was the right thing to do. This choice - and it didn't feel like a choice, but something I had to do - is not one everyone would make, I know. However, we would all be safer if more people euthanized dogs whose behavior cannot be improved after professional assistance.
I had been working with Dodger for months on his aggression. Three months before that fateful night, my 42-pound, 9-year-old English setter had bitten me three times in two seconds; he left six wounds on my forearm under a sweatshirt after I petted him on his back. I was stunned, but I knew what to do.
He had a thorough medical work up, and went on the anti-anxiety medication clomipramine after no physical cause for his behavior change was found. I called in a certified trainer, a woman highly experienced in dog aggression. When she arrived, she said, "I cannot guarantee he won't bite again."
Dodger seemed to be getting better and although he'd snapped at me a few times he hadn't broken skin. I thought his bite inhibition was back, and that as long as I didn't startle him, it would be okay.
I was utterly wrong.
Being attacked by someone you love is a visceral slam to your gut. For a short while, rational thought is gone. It happens so quickly. Your body shakes, and your heart pounds as the instinctive fight-or-flight response is set off. I cried that night as I iced my face, wishing I could ice half of my body. Being bitten by my own dog was a traumatizing event, a betrayal of trust by a beloved canine who’d always slept on my bed.
Dodger had been anxious enough when he arrived five years ago to wear down a path in the back yard within three days. He'd always been snappy when startled. Exercise was never lacking, as we frequently went to fenced, off-leash dog parks. However, last winter I noticed he was much more anxious than he used to be.
When I started talking to people about him, I realized that many friends have euthanized aggressive dogs, including one who owns a dog training school – and so did one of the training school’s co-owners. Veterinarians too: Years ago, Dr. Teri Oursler brought home a 3-year-old rescued beagle. Every time he had gotten in his former owner's way, she kicked him, and then she kicked him when she shoved him into the kennel. Dr. Oursler consulted with veterinary behaviorists who told her she could not cure Sherman, and that all she could do was improve his behavior and try not to put him in any situation where he could cause harm. Three months later, Sherman attacked her 8-year-old son's foot, leaving eight puncture wounds. It was his fourth bite and by far the most aggressive and unprovoked. Sherman was euthanized.
Eight years later, Dr. Oursler still struggles with the guilt of putting Sherman's needs above the safety of her children.
"I will never forget the sounds of his attack and my child screaming," she said. "He taught me that some animals are wired wrong and cannot be fixed, just like some people. Think of Ted Bundy. Sherman taught me that euthanasia of a severely anxious animal is relief of suffering as much as euthanasia for a physical problem is relief of suffering. He taught me that euthanasia for a behavior problem relieves human suffering as much as animal suffering."
Some aggressive dogs can be helped by a good trainer or veterinary behaviorist, and that is where people should start to work with the dog; getting professional help can make the needed difference. But I now believe strongly that some dogs - like Dodger - aren't wired correctly, and no amount of training or medication can fix broken wiring.
From where I'm sitting, too many people make excuses for repeat offenders, no matter if the cause is medical or otherwise, rather than actually addressing the problem even if it’s escalating. They wait until a disaster transpires. Sometimes they don’t even realize that’s what they’re doing.
What I realized later, through my grief, was that I'd been walking on egg shells around him and that relief was a big part of my emotional response. Mostly it was sadness. In the first few days anger was a large part of it: That he suffered from anxiety, because I could have broken my neck, because I will never again see his stunningly graceful run.
I struggle with his unhappiness despite all my efforts, and I wonder when or if that will ever end. A rip in my soul feels like it might never heal.
In my sadness I turned to Dr. Michele Gaspar, both a veterinarian and human therapist.
"There are some dogs who are mentally ill, either due to genetics, trauma or their development," she said. "I appreciate the effort that people put into understanding them, but some of these dogs just never are normal. I don't think meds would have helped Dodger. Escalating behavior is not good in any species. Dogs should be mentally strong enough not to startle in a home environment."
Dr. Gaspar said she is increasingly intolerant of dogs and cats with behavioral issues, but it seems to her that as a society we try to overcome these issues in pets more than we do with people.
At least I have the comfort that he will never get worse. He won't ever bite anyone else, simply because he can’t. Children can be allowed in my house again, and I won't ever be sued because Dodger hurt someone. Nor will he get turned away by my veterinary clinic because he bites the staff. These are the things I tell myself when I’m trying to feel better. They are not small comforts.
The frightening statistics for dog bites account for a lot of fear and hateful feelings about dogs. Bitten children, the most common victims, often grow up to be afraid of dogs. Bites affect people who work with dogs: boarding kennel operators and pet-sitters, trainers, rescue group volunteers, and veterinary staff. Veterinarians and veterinary technicians receive many of those bites, affecting how they feel about their profession and future clients.
Dr. Beth Ruby discussed her reaction to an aggressive patient on a message board of the Veterinary Information Network:
“In all the years I have worked in a veterinary clinic I have never been bitten in the face (before today). It created a fear I don't think I have ever dealt with. The complete lack of warning from the dog has left me very insecure. I have been bitten and scratched a lot in the last 25 years, but never have I felt so small and vulnerable as I did today. Seeing those teeth coming at your face and having absolutely no control creates an emotional experience that you can't imagine or describe.”
You can’t imagine or describe it, but if you’d lived it, her words ring true.
That day nearly three years ago changed the way Dr. Ruby practices. She has become more cautious during exams. She keeps her head and face at a safer distance, only approaches a dog from the side where she has plenty of opportunity to back off quickly, and uses muzzles more often.
"I am definitely jumpier than I used to be, which can be embarrassing," she said.
What I have never understood, even before Dodger came into my life, was how people could keep dogs who bit people or other animals repeatedly and just live with it. That’s an unacceptable risk. While owners may accept it for themselves, it is immoral for them to accept it for anyone else. I also believe it is wrong to turn the dog over to a shelter or rescue, and even worse not to disclose the truth about aggressive behavior. There’s enough bad stuff in the world that people cannot control; sending along a dog who will hurt someone is a moral failing.
Imagine what you would feel after your aggressive dog mauled a toddler’s face. Imagine what you would feel if a stranger’s dog attacked you or your child. Wouldn’t you wonder, forever, why the dog’s owner didn’t do something about the dog’s escalating behavior when they could have?
I don’t have to wonder about that any more. As I continue to sort through and address my feelings about Dodger, what I could have done and what I finally did, I am secure in knowing that ending his life was the right thing to do.
“Death is the ultimate loss but not the ultimate harm," said Dr. Gaspar. I agree.
UPDATE
It's been exactly one year since I euthanized Dodger, which was one of the worst episodes of my life. I'm thankful to everyone who has written. The comments from readers have been enormously helpful and are full of solace. (We didn't publish the handful that essentially said, "How dare you murder that dog, you piece of &%#!," as they violated our language policy, although they never bothered me.) I've had lengthy back channel conversations with several commenters. All too often, though, I don't answer individual comments because they slice into my sorrow and keep it fresh; I can't answer for the sake of my own mental health. My pain has eased greatly, but it is still nearby, as though all that's needed to unleash it is to open a cabinet.
This subject is filled with angst and guilt, not to mention shame at a perceived inability to "train" the aggression out of a beloved dog. Some of our solutions involved ending the life of someone we love with all our heart in order to protect others and ourselves. I cringe every time I read about another mauling by a dog, and I wonder if the owners of those maulers experience the massive guilt and regret that I would. I could not live with myself if my dog hurt someone that way.
Thankfully, I never felt guilty about euthanzing my boy, and did not regret my choice; this is not the case for everyone. Then and now, I didn't feel as though it was a choice; it felt like something I had to do. Because of his protectiveness of that stairwell landing, he would have lunged at me again, and the kind of luck I had walking away from that fall is not going to happen twice. I still don't understand how I walked away the first time, landing crumpled up and passed out inside an end table with a painful and swollen body.
The physical scars are fading, and some of the emotional ones are too, but it takes longer than we think it will. Whenever I see someone with an English setter, I stop and ask if I can pet it. Sometimes I cry. It's embarrassing, but so what? We must keep our hearts and souls intact.
I still cry remembering Dodger's head resting on my knee and looking deeply into my eyes: connecting, bonding, trusting. It's the behavior of his I miss the most, although I deeply loved his silly sense of humor. Needless to say, I never miss being afraid of him, and I recall well why I chose to euthanize him. But that doesn't mean I can't take pleasure in remembering the aspects that made me happy: the way he'd greet visitors with a toy; the gentle way he took treats; the games he loved to initiate; his incredibly graceful and swift running; his look of joy and anticipation on his way to the dog park. Enough grains have shifted in my sand clock that these memories are the ones surfacing more often, rather than the other ones. Time is a good healer, and I am thankful beyond measure for that.
SECOND UPDATE
Two years after I euthanized Dodger, his behavior still affects my household. The cat he chased continues to live a life of stress-induced veterinary care. The stress didn't cause his physical issues, but it exacerbates them. His temperament is permanently altered, and not for the better.
Dickens was here first, and he gave "mellow and friendly" new meaning. The day they were allowed out loose together, Dodger bolted to him while barking in a frenzy. Dickens was screaming, I was screaming. Thankfully my long-haired cat walked out unharmed albeit wet all over from Dodger's saliva. The rescue person offered to take Dodger back, but I said no - a decision I have regretted more than once.
It's surprising to other people, but I still don't have a successor dog. I'm the type who usually finds a new companion within a month or so of losing one; I typically have a strong ability to move on. My friends and family expected me to have a new dog in no time. No one asks anymore if or when I'm going to get another one. If they did, the answer would be that I don't know: maybe tomorrow, maybe never again. Zita is happy. Dickens's whole world would disintegrate from stress.
Most importantly, I don't trust my ability to make a good choice because I made such a mistake last time. In the middle of the night, when fear rises like tendrils of smoke, I'm afraid I will choose another aggressive dog.
As for how I feel about Dodger, time makes it easier. When I see a photo of him, my heart still clenches - not as tightly as it did last year and far less than the year before. The unresolved grief is familar. My mother died the week I turned 15, and decades later I often miss noticing her birthday or the date of her death, even though it's so closely linked to my birthday. While I still miss her, I think of good times with her, and someday I will only think of Dodger's sense of humor.
I love my boy. I hope he rests in peace.
THIRD AND LAST UPDATE
It's been a long time since I felt the stabbing, aching grief that accompanied my choice to euthanize my aggressive dog. Time heals most wounds, and in this case it has. My heart swells with more joy than I thought would be possible when I see a photo of him. I am now able to think about him without falling apart, without tears, without regrets, although I never forget that I have experienced this misery; it was one of the worst episodes of my life. I don't cry any more when I see other English setters, although I ask if I can pet them.
I still dream of his graceful running through acres of lush, green land, as though he was in low gear but contemplating a switch to high gear: his loping merely hinted at the speed he could pull out at any moment. He was bred to run races, and he loved running more than anything in the world, even me. I think of the day he took a dip in a silt pond and came out looking like a happy Creature of the Black Lagoon, or his good times with mud.
Those are the memories I enjoy now. When I think about the moment he bit my forearm three times in three seconds, and the six small puncture wounds he left, my stomach doesn't clench. I don't even have much of an emotional reaction to the thought of being lunged at prior to falling down half of a steep stairwell, which could have killed me. It's more along the lines of "Yeah, that was so horrible, one of the worst days of my life. Is there any more coffee?"
These days it's a tale of long ago, an anecdote of my past.
No successor has followed him, and another dog isn't even in the picture. My dog Zita remains happy as a pig in mud. My cat Dickens still suffers from stress-induced bouts of colitis (translation: diarrhea everywhere), the latest just two weeks ago when I had the audacity to come home reeking of a litter of kittens; Mr. Sensitive acted out, and about 24 hours later he had a raging fit of colitis. He likely has irritable bowel syndrome, caused by stress rather than inflammation, and I still think it's all related to how afraid Dickens was of Dodger, a beast four times his size with a penchant for bowling over cats. There will be no new pets for me while Dickens is alive. Plus, he runs up some interesting vet bills.
If it were not for Mr. Sensitive, I would be emotionally ready for another dog. It's just not meant to be at this time.
I'm good with that.
The best part is that I no longer feel like I can't trust myself to select another dog. When Dickens is no longer here, I will get another dog. Maybe it will be my usual rescue, maybe it will be a puppy for the first time.
That's the personal side. How I feel about the public side - this article - is different. I don't really know how to explain it. Even though writing about an experience is inevitably how I deal with life, the explosion of comments that still arrive weekly three years later is breathtaking and yet formidable. For a while the level of fresh grief it brought was difficult, a bit like salt on an open wound. But that's not the case now.
Today, it's the sameness of what commenters say that disconcerts me, and sometimes numbs me: "I didn't think he was actually aggressive until he ...;" "I was sure we could keep him confined when other people came over;" "I love this dog so much;" "I thought it was always a reaction to something I'd done;" and the worst: "He's bitten nine people, and twice someone had to go to the hospital, but I don't think he's that bad. He's really good most of the time." In a way, for those of us who love dogs that become aggressive, it seems to boil down to a deep love of a dog who behaves wonderfully the vast majority of the time, but sometimes has this problem and it seems to be getting worse.
The hardest part is when people couch the question if I think they should euthanize their dog. Here's my blanket response: each family is solely responsible for that decision. Listen to the advice of someone who has actually seen the dog: your veterinarian or your veterinary behaviorist (while there are no veterinary behaviorists in some geographic areas, in this scenario they are preferable).
As with a lot of things in veterinary medicine, what can be done, what should be done, and what is reasonable to do are moving targets and dependent on such factors as local resources, owner finances, family size/dynamic, size of dog, and frequency/degree of aggression.
For instance, compare the following:
- Young-adult, mid-size dog with sudden onset of one or two mild to moderately aggressive moves (growls, snaps, bit when food bowl was moved). Affluent, healthy, dog-experienced owners. No kids. Not much traffic in and out of the house.
- Adult giant breed dog (Akita, Cane Corso, etc.) with chronic, escalating aggression. Children and grandmother in the house. Owners have limited finances.
steep stairwell DeGioia
The 1948 staircase is steep: the steps are 7-inches high and 7.5-inches deep. I went up the stairs where he watched me from the landing. I was about half way up when he lunged at the left side of my face so I reflexively turned to the right and fell backwards, then twisted and hit the right side of my face on the opposite wall. I woke up about 15 minutes later with my head on the bottom shelf of the end table. Photo by Phyllis DeGioia
In scenario A, an extensive medical workup, medication trial, behavioral consults would all be reasonable and probably should happen. In scenario B, even if the owners scraped together the money, someone could get mauled or killed before any of those steps could kick in. All of us here are taking the road less traveled by being so open; in some cases, the only ones we're not honest with are ourselves. Traditionally, euthanizing aggressive dogs has been a topic avoided in public, as though you are so ashamed of your "inability to turn that dog around." As if. And yet if you talk to employees of a veterinary clinic, the folks who have to deal with aggressive dogs every day and have the scars that go with the danger of their job, they will often tell you that there are plenty of nice dogs out there who need a home, and why would you go through all that effort to keep an aggressive dog and walk on eggshells all the time?
When the veterinary technician said that to me, I caught my breath and thought what a terrible thing that was to say. Eventually I saw that she was right.
What's right for me may not be right for anyone else. The reasons to euthanize or not are a moving target, and little about this topic is clear cut. It's a topic constituting a hundred shades of grey and not much black and white. I believe that if your dog has inflicted enough physical damage to send someone to the ER, or has mauled or killed another dog, it's time to act definitively. But that's me. I'm more than lucky I didn't break my neck on that fall down the stairs after he lunged at my face, and it is sheer grace that I got up and walked away with only bruises and a limp to show for it.
My wish for every one of us is the love of a non-aggressive dog without any need for us to walk on eggshells. May that love be with us all, and if not with this dog, then another one.
(Editor's Note: Seven years after euthanizing Dodger, the author brought home another dog for the first time since then. See The Dog After the Grief.)
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I'd like to thank the author and many commenters for providing much needed peace of mind. I came across the article at around 1:00 am last night, after having trouble sleeping subsequent to having euthanised our much loved family pet only 8 hours earlier. Wracked with both grief and guilt, I googled for stories of others who had similar experiences and found this article. After an escalating series of biting incidents, 3 of which had resulted in trips to the doctor for family members, we finally made the decision that euthanasia was the only option after over a year of trying to manage the problem without success. I was confident when we made the decision that it was the right one, but laying awake in the middle of the night thinking about our beautiful dog who was loving and affectionate 99% of the time, my trust in the decision was starting waver. Reading this article, and all the follow up comments has provided great reassurance that the right decision was made. I still have regret that we were not able to manage the progression , allowing us to avoid getting to where we are now, but giving the severity of the latest incident and the risk of further escalation, I now remain convinced we had no other viable options. The idea expressed in this article (and the many wonderful comments), that - despite appearing healthy on the outside - dogs in this situation are actually quite ill from a mental point of view resonate strongly with me. Our lovely dog was not a bad dog, he just had an illness that we were not able to resolve, and this eventually led to the tragic, but necessary outcome of having him put to sleep. Less than 24 hours since we said goodbye to him, my memories are already dominated by all the good times we had together. Grief is still the overwhelming emotion, but I'm sure I'll eventually get to the point where these fond memories can fill my heart with joy rather than the stabbing pain of grief they are raising now. My heartfelt best wishes go out to all those who are treading (or have tread) this path. Reading this page has definitely made me feel less alone in my grief, and that has helped lift my burden.
Patrick Boudreau
March 11, 2022
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Donetta, I'm so sorry to hear of your experience. First, please don't let what other people say get to you, although I know that is easier said than done. They did not live with the dog, they did not see the attack, they do not understand the situation the way you do, and they never will. Your negative feelings will likely lessen if you take a "consider the source" kind of approach. I'm grateful that your friend is so supportive of you despite what happened to him, and more grateful still that you are now safe from an attack as well. Actually, I'm surprised that animal control would allow him to be adopted. I loved my aggressive dog too, with all my heart, but think of him as my Jekyll and Hyde. For what it's worth, I recommend getting another dog, one that has been thoroughly temperament tested (even though that is not a 100% guarantee). Falling in love with another dog, one that is easy to be with and who does not cause concern, will help you get over the past. My heart is with you.
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Madison
March 15, 2019
Phyllis DeGioia
March 11, 2019
Georgia Ponton
March 11, 2019
Camille Teigan
March 8, 2019
Kristy Hani
March 6, 2019
Phyllis DeGioia
March 4, 2019
Paul Jordan
March 4, 2019
The one that had a beagle
March 3, 2019
Becky
March 1, 2019
Polly's Mom
February 12, 2019
Steve Schula
February 8, 2019
Phyllis DeGioia
February 7, 2019
Rebecca Self
February 7, 2019
JustMe
February 3, 2019
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
February 2, 2019
Amanda
February 2, 2019
Sara
January 29, 2019
Anon
January 28, 2019
Phyllis DeGioia
January 23, 2019
Janet
January 23, 2019
Phyllis DeGioia
January 22, 2019
Jule
January 19, 2019
Melissa
January 14, 2019
Katie
January 9, 2019
Alicia Peetz
January 6, 2019
Laura
January 1, 2019
Tammy
December 28, 2018
Marnie Prange
December 25, 2018
Amoura
December 17, 2018
Jenny C
December 15, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
December 11, 2018
Robin Gregg
December 11, 2018
Lynne
December 11, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
December 10, 2018
Laurie
December 9, 2018
Denice
December 3, 2018
Paige J
November 30, 2018
Catherine
November 14, 2018
John Luce
October 23, 2018
Alicia
October 15, 2018
Kimmy Hiltunen
October 2, 2018
Brody's Heartbroken Mom
September 11, 2018
Shari Zindler
September 7, 2018
Darlene
September 5, 2018
Valerie Rizzo
September 5, 2018
Paul Minard
August 23, 2018
Victoria Reeve
August 20, 2018
Mao Fuimaono
June 27, 2018
LaVerne Manzanares
June 26, 2018
Tiffany
June 23, 2018
Tiffany Raeburn
June 20, 2018
Kelly
June 18, 2018
Annie
June 9, 2018
Jennifer
June 7, 2018
Anita Szabo
June 7, 2018
Selaine
May 29, 2018
Casey
May 27, 2018
Alyssa
May 22, 2018
Teresa L Harman
May 21, 2018
Becka
May 20, 2018
Alyssa
May 17, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
May 15, 2018
Patti K
May 13, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
May 10, 2018
Tracey
May 7, 2018
Tracey
May 7, 2018
Karen
May 6, 2018
grrlgall
April 28, 2018
Christine
April 19, 2018
Tee
April 6, 2018
Maureen
April 3, 2018
Vicki Biggs-Anderson
April 3, 2018
Vita
March 30, 2018
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
March 21, 2018
Jordan
March 21, 2018
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
March 20, 2018
Jordan
March 20, 2018
Hannah
March 18, 2018
MB
March 2, 2018
Barbara
March 1, 2018
Erik
February 23, 2018
Kathy
February 21, 2018
Barbara S.
February 21, 2018
Ellen
February 16, 2018
carol pepe
February 6, 2018
Karen and Michael
February 4, 2018
Sofia
February 2, 2018
Heather
February 1, 2018
Owner of a sweet puppy
January 30, 2018
Lea
January 30, 2018
Gary Davis
January 27, 2018
Lynne Coleman
January 25, 2018
Sinead
January 20, 2018
LoraR
January 18, 2018
Martin England
January 16, 2018
Grace
January 11, 2018
Travis
January 9, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
January 8, 2018
Jean
January 6, 2018
Phyllis DeGioia
January 5, 2018
Kelly
January 5, 2018
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
December 24, 2017
Jen
December 24, 2017
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
December 19, 2017
Dorothy
December 19, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
December 18, 2017
Casey
December 16, 2017
Dorothy
December 11, 2017
Amber
December 10, 2017
Dorothy
December 1, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
November 29, 2017
Jamie
November 29, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
November 28, 2017
Nancy
November 27, 2017
Pam
November 26, 2017
Dan
November 15, 2017
anna
November 13, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
November 5, 2017
Michelle A Cory
November 5, 2017
Rebecca
September 25, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
September 11, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
September 7, 2017
Arlene
September 6, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
August 24, 2017
Greg Smith
August 23, 2017
Susan Morrison
August 23, 2017
Alondra R
August 19, 2017
Tracy
August 18, 2017
Heather
August 8, 2017
Mary Lou Ilgenfritz
August 8, 2017
Beth A. Berger
July 19, 2017
Erika
July 15, 2017
Melaney
July 14, 2017
Efi
July 13, 2017
Kristin
July 2, 2017
Linda
July 1, 2017
Liz
June 30, 2017
Michael Kistler
June 24, 2017
Bonnie
June 23, 2017
Pat
June 20, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
June 20, 2017
Shannon
June 20, 2017
Jan Kelly
June 20, 2017
Bonnie
June 13, 2017
Scott
June 12, 2017
Tara
June 1, 2017
Alexandra
May 30, 2017
Eileen
May 8, 2017
Annie
May 3, 2017
Allie
April 28, 2017
Cris Simons
April 22, 2017
Betty
April 21, 2017
Rick
March 29, 2017
Kimberly Conklin
March 27, 2017
Madelien D
March 20, 2017
Eva Pedersen
March 10, 2017
Fred M.
March 6, 2017
Leah
February 27, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
February 23, 2017
Clarissa
February 23, 2017
Nikki
February 9, 2017
Anna B Nirva
February 5, 2017
Christine
January 29, 2017
Heavenawaits
January 26, 2017
Quin
January 26, 2017
Mike
January 19, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
January 19, 2017
Phyllis
January 19, 2017
Christy Corp-Minamiji, DVM
January 17, 2017
Hazel Kelly
January 18, 2017
Jennifer
January 11, 2017
Gillian
January 10, 2017
Nikki
January 8, 2017
Sarah
January 7, 2017
Phyllis DeGioia
January 5, 2017
Dorrie
January 5, 2017
Julia
January 3, 2017
Kimberly
January 3, 2017
Joleen
January 1, 2017
Lindsay Ann Comeau
December 27, 2016
Kate
December 26, 2016
Diane
December 23, 2016
Belle
December 10, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
December 6, 2016
BV
December 6, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
December 5, 2016
Debbie
December 5, 2016
Nancy
November 24, 2016
Debby
November 22, 2016
Caroline
November 17, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
November 16, 2016
Charlie Pup
November 16, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
November 14, 2016
Alexandra Fenton
November 14, 2016
Siobhan
November 13, 2016
Lisa D
November 11, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
November 7, 2016
Teri Ann Oursler, DVM
November 7, 2016
Tess
November 7, 2016
Pauline
November 1, 2016
Katherine
October 31, 2016
Pat M
October 16, 2016
Christy Corp-Minamiji, DVM
October 25, 2016
Amelie
October 25, 2016
Ava Henderson-ronchetti
October 19, 2016
Linda
October 18, 2016
roadbyrd
October 17, 2016
Jennifer
October 15, 2016
Linda Corson
October 15, 2016
Jen
October 14, 2016
Sara
October 12, 2016
Brett J
September 30, 2016
Sally
September 28, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
September 27, 2016
Robin
September 26, 2016
Gypsy
September 16, 2016
Carolyn
September 16, 2016
Teri
September 9, 2016
HJ
September 1, 2016
Cathy Brooks
August 31, 2016
Emma
August 24, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
August 16, 2016
Ct
August 16, 2016
Michelle P
August 16, 2016
Tammy
August 15, 2016
Wendie
August 13, 2016
Dan
August 13, 2016
Shannon
August 12, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
August 12, 2016
Cat
August 11, 2016
Cat
August 11, 2016
JD
August 4, 2016
Dawn
August 2, 2016
Brittani
July 31, 2016
Heather
July 31, 2016
Mary
July 30, 2016
Dayna Williamson
July 22, 2016
Juli
July 22, 2016
Marilyn Killian
July 21, 2016
Pat
July 21, 2016
Pat Young
July 20, 2016
Mary
July 20, 2016
Emma
July 20, 2016
2Maines
July 19, 2016
Shelley
July 18, 2016
Donna
July 15, 2016
Shannon
July 12, 2016
Amanda
July 12, 2016
Jane
July 12, 2016
Liz
July 11, 2016
Kelly
July 11, 2016
Amy
July 9, 2016
Christine Morton
July 9, 2016
Christy Corp-Minamiji, DVM
July 12, 2016
Tanya
July 8 2016
Christy Corp-Minamiji, DVM
July 8, 2016
Kim
July 6, 2016
Jennifer McMahon
July 6, 2016
Amanda
July 5, 2016
Amanda
July 4, 2016
Jennifer Allen
July 3, 2016
KIm
July 1, 2016
Brooke
July 30, 2016
Amy
June 30, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
June 30, 2016
Bernie
June 30, 2016
Jennifer
June 30, 2016
Fran
June 29, 2016
Pat
June 29, 2016
Candice
June 28, 2016
Joann
June 25, 2016
Lola Rubio
June 22, 2016
Gareth
June 21, 2016
Hera
June 18, 2016
Melanie
June 17, 2016
Jonelle A
June 14, 2016
Mara
June 12, 2016
Janaye
June 11, 2016
Lisa
June 6, 2016
Rebecca
June 5, 2016
Jim
June 4, 2016
Diana
May 31, 2016
Andrea Nida
May 31, 2016
BE
May 28, 2016
Diane May
May 28, 2016
Susan
May 28, 2016
Steven
May 27, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 26, 2016
Laurie
May 26, 2016
Jaime
May 23, 2016
Susan
May 22, 2016
Tracy
May 20, 2016
Helen Weinbrecht
May 16, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 16, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 16, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 16, 2016
Dot Kewley
May 15, 2016
Jeremy
May 14, 2016
Rich
May 13, 2016
Catherine
May 12, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 11, 2016
Noelle Bergeron
May 11, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
May 11, 2016
Kitty
May 11, 2016
Richard Forest
May 11, 2016
Jasmine
May 9, 2016
Phyllis DeGioia
April 21, 2016
Lori McKay
April 21, 2016
Scott
April 17, 2016
Dave
April 14, 2016
Pauline
April 14, 2016
Joe
April 11, 2016
Denise
April 10, 2016
Sharon Quilter
April 9, 201