"Letting Him Go Today was the Hardest Decision I Made in a Year of Hard Decisions"

Tara and Indy's Story

Ken and Nancy, 

I wrote to you in December about my traumatic loss of my kitty Crispin. His loss came three months after the loss of our oldest dog, Puzzle. I have struggled every day since losing Crispin, but in April took a 2 week bike trip with our youngest dog,  Crispin's companion Marvel, and have found something approaching equilibrium. 

Today we have suffered a third devastating loss in under a year and said goodbye to our middle dog, Indiana. I wanted to share his story in hopes of finding closure. 
Our first dog, Puzzle, was my gift to myself upon graduating vet school. When we started looking to expand our family two years later, I told my husband he could pick which breed he wanted. We discussed a few options, and eventually decided he loved Puzzle so much that he wanted another French Brittany. A month later we brought home 9-month-old Indiana and our lives were changed forever. 
Indy could not be more different from his big "brother." Puzzle was gregarious, loved other dogs, outgoing and smart. Indy was reckless and brave physically but terrified socially. We pushed too hard too fast on our new addition and our inexperience with nervous dogs soon turned anxiety into fear, and fear into aggressive reactivity. Indy was sweet and silly at home, but lashed out at dogs other than Puzzle and the dogs he grew up with. He would tolerate other Brittanies if they ignored him, but the only dog he ever loved was Puzz. 
The only person he loved was me. 
Puzz was supposed to be my dog and Indy was supposed to be my husband Nick's dog, but they had other plans and Indy became by shadow. I gave never met anything on this planet who worshipped me like Indy did. Together, we competed in dog shows, hiked mountains, played on beaches, and explored the woods. Nick said he was my apocalypse dog, just wanting all other dogs and people to disappear so it could be just the two of us. 
Indiana struggled his whole life with anxiety and impulsivity. He was stressed by dogs, strangers in the house (but fine outside our home), crates, and separation from me. He also had a bad habit of acting before thinking. Who looks before they leap? Not Indy, for sure. My quest to help calm his frayed nerves and teach him some self-control started me on a lifelong journey to understand fear, reactivity, and aggression in dogs. I taught myself so much and made lots of mistakes along the way. Indy forgave every single one. 
In 2015, we started taking reactive dog classes at a wonderful local facility and finally made progress. He was never going to be a dog park dog, but he could see another dog without a meltdown and put his trust in me to keep him safe. We started taking classes in nosework, a sport in which dogs find hidden scents, modeled after bomb sniffing dogs. We found a new obsession together and we poured ourselves into learning to work together and communicate as a team. He blossomed, with new confidence as he had something at which he naturally excelled. I started training Puzzle as well and soon we were all competing. My nervous, reactive dog had a "job" and it was just what he needed. I made dozens of friends and we shared in our dogs' triumphs and setbacks and delighted in each one's idiosyncrasies. Indy was known for charging in and sweeping through like a tornado. When his nose started working, he stopped watching where he was going and my job was to stop him from hurting himself or destroying the room while he searched. He would climb and jump on obstacles and pull out anything that wasn't nailed down in his pursuit of scent and his love of the game. 
In 2016 we added a puppy, Marvel. He and Indy loved playing together, their boundless energy swirling around the yard a sight to behold. He also started competing in nosework and everything seemed wonderful. At about a year old, we made a major mistake and let Marvel out to play with Indy when the former was pent up and energetic and the latter was stressed and anxious. Marvel plowed into his buddy expecting to wrestle and instead was met with teeth and anger. I was badly bitten breaking up the ensuing fight, and never again could the two dogs stand each other, despite my best efforts to reconcile them. We began a long journey of training and management, a rotating system of doors and gates where they were never in the same room and we dedicated much of our time to making sure both of their needs were met. Since 2017, we have held this system with only two brief mistakes, luckily with no serious injuries either time. In that entire time, we never felt we could leave them with a dog sitter in case a fatal mistake was made. If we left town, all three dogs came with, or one person stayed home. It was hard, but worth it to keep both dogs in our home and safe where they were so, so loved. 
One night in 2018, I was walking Puzz and Indy late at night and two men approached and got on either side to box me in. Then got closer, closing in on me, and asked if my dogs were friendly. Bless by gregarious dog's heart, Puzzle was wiggling and trying to say hi. Indy, normally not human aggressive, raised his hackles and lunged, snarling and snapping. He looked completely unhinged. They beat a quick retreat. I am convinced he saved my life that night. 
In 2021, Puzzle was diagnosed with aggressive oral melanoma and we prepared to say goodbye, given a likely timeline of 6-10 months. We made him a bucket list and grieved. 10 months came and went. We celebrated an extra birthday we never expected him to have. He then ruptured a disc in his spine a year after his cancer diagnosis and we went through major surgery because he was otherwise healthy. That, however, spelled the end of him spending time with rambunctious Indiana during the day. Indy's world got more lonely. His anxiety, always up and down, worsened and became an ongoing struggle with elaborate routines to keep him calm and secure while we were away. He took major backwards steps in his crate anxiety as well, undoing years of hard work as his stress levels increased. 
We lost Puzz in August 2023, not to his back or his cancer (the melanoma vaccine bought us over two years we didn't think we would have) but to canine cognitive dysfunction, dementia. He stopped recognizing friends and family, then Marvel, then Indy. He became aggressive when confused, and would become agitated when confined but hurt himself when left free.