Picture this. It’s a beautiful summer morning. You’re out on the sidewalk, leash and poop bags in hand, enjoying a peaceful stroll with your dog. It’s early, still cool and gray. Quiet. The very best time to be out, before the world around you is awake. Your dog sniffs contentedly in the grass, finds a suitable place to pee. Birds chirp. A car passes, slow and lazy. You glance up and down the street, ever watchful. So far, so good….
About two and a half years ago, in February of 2014, I brought home my very first show puppy. He was twelve weeks old, and perfect in every way. A handsome blue merle Sheltie, the pick boy of a lovely show litter with beautiful movement and a strikingly gorgeous face. I drove 12 hours round-trip to pick him up from his breeder in North Carolina on a cold, windy day. He slept curled in his crate in the back seat…
Perhaps it began with a look. A sudden, hard stare as you sat down on the couch beside your trusted family dog, or reached for a toy in his mouth. Nothing overt, but… a strange feeling. Hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Something not quite right. Or, perhaps the first sign was something much more obvious and seemingly out-of-the-blue – a snarl and growl, a snap or even a bite that drew blood as you reached for…