Ninja's Story

Separation Anxiety, Choosing a Dog Over a Marriage, Growing Pains, and Choosing Goodbye for a Canine Good Citizen

This is the story of just one of many dogs to capture my heart over the years, but Ninja is more than just any dog ... he is one of mine. From the moment I saw his big blocky head in the poorly-angled MySpace photos in July 2008, I felt instantly drawn to the heartworm positive, underweight pit bull that a fledgling rescuer was in need of a new home for. Ninja's first known origins were as a stray, and the kind girl who had taken him in had too many family challenges to be able to adequately care for him. Just a year and a half before, I had adopted my first pit bull Daisy, and in the back of my mind I knew it was a matter of time before I found her a best doggie friend she could wrestle with. My roommate at the time went with me to meet his caregiver in a mall parking lot and pick up "Nash". When his short stubby legs trotted across the parking lot and he nestled against my shins, I knew that this dog was definitely not a foster. On the ride home, Nash rode in the floorboard at my friend's feet like a doggie magnet that could only exist while touching a human.

The next day he came with me to work at the the spay-neuter vet clinic to confirm his heartworm positive status and to be neutered. Already the night before he had insistingly "claimed" the right to many items both inside and outside the house, much to my husband's dismay. He was long overdue for his neuter! I had had the dog less than 24 hours, yet he curled up cozily in my passenger seat on the way to my job, making it quite clear that he planned to be my copilot for a long time to come.

Nash soon became Ninja, for the quirky way that he kicked his feet when rolling on his back or getting comfortable on the sofa. At that time, I knew nothing of proper dog introductions and had never seen true dog aggression, and Daisy, Ninja, our 2 chihuahuas, and 4 cats(!) were already coexisting quite peacefully. Sure, Ninja harassed the cats at first but soon learned that cats didn't take kindly to being chased. I didn't know that things would ever be any different, or that all pets couldn't be friends. The harmony of this foursome reinforced my misconceptions. And for a few years, it really didn't seem to matter much at all.

Best friends, Ninja and Daisy

The real turmoil began when Ninja had recovered from heartworm treatment and my husband, our roommate, and I began to see just how much Ninja's magnetism toward people could be a bit of a problem. He could push open a crate door with the force of his blocky head alone, and if anything plastic or electronic was near the floor, he would chew, swallow, and destroy those items in a frenzy of separation anxiety. Already my pit bull Daisy couldn't be crated b/c of how ill she became when enclosed in a crate -- but she didn't destroy things when allowed to roam free, except for the occasional fluffy blanket. We became more diligent about picking up chewable items; we were lucky he never chose furniture, doors, or walls for his destruction. I even took him to the vet where he was prescribed an anxiety medication for dogs called Reconcile. And while that seemed to curve his overall anxiousness in our presence and during shorter absences, there were still missteps. On January 20, 2009; everything changed, for all of us.

I remember the date because that was the night I left my first husband. We had come home from a night out to a home littered with white plastic pieces. The horror of the realization that it was our Nintendo Wii remotes started a monstrous argument. In no uncertain terms, my husband told me that it was him or Ninja. I had already tried to leave my husband at least twice over the past 6 years of our crumbling marriage, and for me, this was an opportunity to finally follow my heart. I remember some of what I said that night. "Ninja does this because of how much he wants to be near me. He can't help it. We're leaving." Ninja hopped in my car with me as we drove to hang out with a friend until late, when I came home and slept on the couch. The next day, my husband and I made real plans to separate.

Without being able to afford our house on my own, and a small zoo of pets to think about (my husband would take none of them), my only offer of a place to live was with my dad, who was also recently seperated from my mom. But it was on the condition I found a new home for my 4 rescued cats. As it was, my dad, who was not the biggest pet fanatic, was letting me bring 4 dogs into his neat, spotless, and pet-free home. I felt backed into a corner. Tearily, I took my four cats to the no-kill adoption facility affiliated with the vet clinic I worked at. They were all adopted quickly by 4 separate families. It was one bittersweet relief in a very tumultuous time in my life.

Ninja's destruction of course continued in his new environment and even progressed into house soiling. My dad was livid and told me he should be taken to the shelter. Again, I was in the same "me-or-the-dog" situation that got me here in the first place. I came up a temporary solution for Ninja to come to work with me during the day and to ride with me in the car during any errands or outings at night. It was a mild NC winter so it was perfectly safe and reasonable to do this. It actually worked very well and by the time the spring and summer came, I was living in my own place again, now with my boyfriend who became the co-founder of our rescue we began in August 2009. We had happily combined my 4 dog family with his one elderly dog Vanilla and things were really good for us two understanding and patient dog lovers.

Left to right: Spiderman, foster dog Izzy, Nabisco, Daisy,  & Ninja

In about June of that year, right before the rescue was officially established, we adopted a dog named Spiderman with a broken leg, and raised money for his rehabilitation. As Spiderman healed, we realized we just couldn't let this dog go either (I know, I know: suckers!). But something else curious happened, and as Spiderman started using his leg again, we found ourselves in the middle of huge, one-sided dog fights, as Ninja viciously attacked Spiderman for no apparent reason at all. Spiderman's only defense was his own strong and vivacious body, and he escaped with merely a few scratches and punctures when we pried the jaws of life (or death?) from him. We knew it wouldn't be easily, but we openly discussed what long-term life life with Spiderman and Ninja would mean: Crate-and-Rotate, a term we became familiar with as we began helping others with their dog-aggression problems within a household. "C/R" had just become a reality for us.

As we progressed into fostering, we soon learned Ninja wasn't safe with most dogs we brought home, probably none of them. He only refrained from attacking the 3 that had lived with me when he came home - Daisy and our two chihuahuas. He had even had a few incidents with Vanilla, our elderly shepherd, but I think b/c of her very calm and meek nature he eventually lost interest and learned to live with her. Yet, our guard was always up. I was very disheartened the day I saw him attempt to grab a small puppy. Puppies were usually the "safety net" for temperamental dogs. Not for Ninja. Ninja's behavior was a big part of the reason we realized we couldn't do the rescuing all on our own. We could only C/R so many dogs. Ninja and Spiderman both needed their split time with our family, and fostering multiple dogs was not an option for us.

One big help was that my work had given me an industrial-strength, commercial-size dog crate that allowed us to finally crate Ninja safely and successfully. This allowed us to live pretty worry-free for the length of the time we had the rescue and were living with our multi-dog family. Vanilla eventually passed away, and it wasn't too long before another dog entered our heart by the name of Greyson, a tiny shy pit bull. We never intentionally allowed Greyson and Ninja access to each other, but twice there were "accidents". Grey was not as strong or large as Spidey, and the injuries he sustained were much more severe. He had deep punctures and tears that became infected and took months to heal. Our "guard" became a steel wall and we worked even harder to keep everyone safe from Ninja.

Ninja wearing his CGC bandana at an agility fundraiser for Carolina Care Bullies, in Charlotte, NC

This is not to say that Ninja was not a good dog, b/c aside from his aggression and anxiety, he had accomplished quite a lot. Although he had failed his first Canine Good Citizen certification attempt, once on medication, he retook the class and test with my partner Terry and passed! He could easily walk by and be in a room with other dogs with no strong reaction. The problem was interacting and being off-leash in an uncontrolled environment with them. Terry and Ninja started taking agility classes and Ninja loved the running, climbing, and all the treats that came with it. At home, Ninja was a couch potato, and generally very quiet compared to everyone else. He still had his anxious quirks of pogo-stick-jumping, mid-air jaw snapping, and magnet-like behavior to people, but it was usually just part of our day-to-day routine.

Ninja and I, before the NC Pride festival parade in September 2009. We asked all the other dogs to please give Ninja space (see DINOS for more info on "Dogs In Need of Space"). Thanks to our understanding colleagues, Ninja was able to walk in the parade to be a good ambassador for the breed that day. 

When Terry and I eventually broke up early this year; my life took me down to Florida with Ninja, Daisy, Spiderman, and one of the chihuahuas, Nabisco. With our two very different living situations and Terry's physical limitations, this is how we decided to best split the dogs. It worked out greatly for Greyson, who now gets to roam free 24/7 with Terry and his chihuahua cohort, Bluto. The challenge was bringing Ninja and the crew into a new environment with dogs already present. My new boyfriend and now husband and I discussed our strategies for integrating the dogs successfully. My husband already knew all of my dogs, as I had known him since well before I ever adopted Ninja. He was a close friend that often pet-sat all of the dogs. He knew many of Ninja's quirks and challenges, had seen his dog aggression before, and had heard all the stories of the incidents he missed. We were ready. Or so we thought.

After one "That-Was-Totally-Our-Fault" altercation that occurred between Ninja and my husband's schnauzer, Hooch; the next fight came as a complete surprise and was nearly fatal, despite 3 people being in the room trying unsuccessfully, for several minutes, to pry the 45-lb pit bull off of the 20 lb, 12-year-old helpless schnauzer. All of my training and experience of breaking up dog fights over the 4 years I had rescued pit bulls, though handy, did not do much for the tenacious and powerful Ninja. Lifting up his back legs no longer made him flinch; but that with a wooden spoon used as a break stick and my husband hanging on to Hooch for dear life at that exact moment did eventually cause a break in the fight. The results were beyond anything I had ever seen.

Hooch, post-surgery

Now we knew that there was no other alternative to keeping Ninja not only separate from Spiderman, but Hooch as well. But then in August, my husband and I found out we were pregnant. And this changed everything. How were going to keep 3 dogs totally separate from one another, and from a child? Was it plausible? Is it wise to try? But that wasn't the half of it.

Since Ninja's attack on Hooch, Ninja's behavior declined dramatically. Always a tail-chaser when stressed, now he would stand in a quiet room, during no obvious stressors at all, and chase his tail. He had progressed from obsessive water drinking to water gorging, and shoot threatening looks to Daisy or Nabisco when they too, wanted some water. He becomes nervous during bathroom breaks over high grass, chirping birds, trucks off in the distance, or perhaps nothing at all. He stands and stares idly as us or at the wall on a calm night watching television. We doubled his anxiety medication, but with no helpful results. Ninja has become the worst version of himself, and it terrifies us not knowing what we might see next.

And it's not as if Ninja had never fought with his best friend Daisy. At least 3 times over the years they had got in a real fight, and only Daisy's unwillingness to back down seemed to frighten Ninja enough so we could break them up. Once Terry had gotten severely bitten on his hand, while shielding Greyson from Ninja. I once received punctures on my legs through my jeans from early attacks on Spiderman from Ninja. Currently, my husband and I are in constant walking-on-eggshells mode, as we pick up all water bowls, food sources, toys, bones, and try to limit attention to prevent jealousy.

As my pregnancy progresses and the future became more of a reality, we know that completely controlling every situation involving a child would be impossible. But there is a lot of emotion involved, and I have a lot of history with my dog. I began re-reading my pet bereavement book, particularly the part about when the right time is to say goodbye. We went to our vet to get an unbiased opinion and to discuss Ninja's history. And the information in front of me was telling me from all angles, that it is time to let go. The vet said a few things that shook me to the core. "This is a dog that should never under any circumstances, be trusted with a child ... I do not believe in euthanizing healthy dogs. But Ninja is not a healthy dog; he is very psychologically unstable. And you already know that."  It was unnerving, especially because she didn't even know every last detail; every dog fight or human injury that "accidentally" had came with him over the years. She was quite surprised that we had lived the "eggshell" lifestyle for as long as we have. It's just a testament to my attachment to my dog. And his reciprocal attachment to me is part of what frightens us. How will Ninja feel when our world no longer revolves around him?

Ninja and I at Oak Island, December 31, 2012

Maybe for some, particularly those that aren't parents, and/or are especially dedicated to animals, especially rescued animals, think that it's okay to take it one day at a time and "see what happens". Perhaps we should let Ninja live out the rest of his life, keeping in mind that he's already at least 7 years old now, and the average lifespan of a bully breed is about 12 years. All the while, those managing him daily know, that he is a real threat to our other dogs, and to our first and only child. Sure, he has never willingly directed aggression toward a human, but his behavior surprises us every day, as he hangs on to the last threads of the dog we once knew. It's not the good days and the good qualities that worry us; it's all the bad days, the accidents, and the uncertainties of what we can't control. Would these naysayers feel the same if their other pets lives hung in the balance, or they feared for the safety of their child? How many dogs have perhaps passed through their home temporarily that just wasn't a good fit, for one of these such reasons? And what if that dog wasn't stable, or placeable in another home? During my time leading a pit bull rescue, I said goodbye to many dogs who were not able to be rehomed, and some of them did not have the laundry list of anxieties and difficult histories that my own dog Ninja has. I can't let the fact that I deeply love my dog cloud my judgement. It is because I love him that it's my responsibility to end his suffering; and it's the love for the rest of my family that makes it my responsibility to keep everyone safe.

I'm not sure how to end Ninja's story, except to say that it needed to be told. This blog is for my Ninja, the dog whose best interest has always been at the forefront of my heart, above my relationships, sometimes above even the safety of my other dogs. I love you, and as our family spends the next few weeks saying goodbye to you, I hope you feel and understand the love we have for you. As I write this and tears run down my face; Ninja knows. He gets up from his spot on the doggie bed and clings to my side, his dark chocolate eyes baring into my soul. He cocks his head to the side as if to say, "What is it mommy?" It is a fair glimpse into the close relationship we have always had, one that I will never forget, and always cherish.