Rusty and I had fun playing fetch.  He is very athletic, and was into the game.  It’s a shame that Sparky can’t play.  It looks like he really wants to, but if he was released from his crate, Rusty would let Sparky go after the toy.  Rusty would lose interest in the game.

I don’t know if this contributed to what happened later, but it doesn’t make any difference.

After the game, Sparky was let out of the crate and the gate was opened to the rest of the house so Rusty could get familiar.  They were dog frolicking, but settled down under the desk as I was online.  Everything was peaceful.

I don’t know what kicked it off, but they went from zero to 60 in about two seconds.  They were dog fighting with teeth.  This is how I got bit last week, so I was more mindful.  Rusty wears a short leash, so I grabbed that and stepped on Sparky to keep him down.

There was blood as I dragged them to their crates.  About what you’d get from a persistent nose bleed.

I couldn’t find any wounds on either one, but there was some blood on Sparky.  It may be from a mouth wound since dogs bite each other like that. 

Since animals are blameless, when anything doesn’t go right, I consider what I could have done differently.  Maybe I pampered Sparky too much, or shouldn’t have had fun with Rusty where Sparky could watch. 

I blame Sparky.  He was very jealous and didn’t cut Rusty any slack at all.  Sparky would growl at Rusty just for looking at him wrong.  They could play and roughhouse, then Sparky would lose his temper.  Animals are blameless, but Sparky is an autistic guy.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded;”  That’s in the Bible, and it’s Lent, and last year, Sparky was strutting around telling everyone that he was Sparkicodemus, the only good Pharisee.

So fuck him, Sparky is taking the wrap for this, but it doesn’t matter.  Rusty has to go.

I adore Sparky.  He’s 12 years old, and loaded with charming attributes.  Like the rest of us, he is flawed.  I did everything I could to easy the transition, and it seemed to be working.  It would never be completely resolved, and we can’t live with that.

Rusty is a really nice dog.  If the paperwork is accurate, Rusty is just over three years old.  He knows his name, has the general idea of house training and usually sits on command.  He likes people, and doesn’t have any meanness in him at all.  He lets me look in his mouth and ears, or handle his paws without complaint.

Rusty likes to go in his crate, but doesn’t want to be forced.  I’m guessing that in his old life, he was left in his crate for too long.

Rusty is athletic, and would enjoy an obstacle course or jumping tricks.  He does pull on a leash, but when I call his name, he stops.  Rusty wants to be a good dog.

If Rusty were my only dog, we would be good friends and have great adventures.  He’s not, so we won’t, and that’s a shame.

The best I can do for Rusty is to take him to the Friendship Animal Protective League in Elyria.  That’s the orphanage where I met Sparky.  It’s small, nice and friendly.  I could not bear to take him back to the Mansfield Reformatory for Bad Dogs, where he and I met.