I had to put my dog down today. I thought that I had trained her well, but she tried to bite my God daughter. What could I have done?

Dear Mr. Frawley:

Today I killed my dog.

Abby, our sweet, bicolor GSD, lived with us for six of her eight years. I adopted her from the Humane Society. The worker there later told me Abby had been seized during a raid at a dog fighting ring. They'd tried to use her as a guard dog. They also had bred her continuously and used her pups as bait.

It took her two years to learn to wag her tail. She craved attention, and I was her person of choice. Our other GSD, Griffon, didn't mind that Abby needed to be top dog. He knew who really was and if it made her easier to get along with, he left her that illusion (unless it was something he felt strongly about?like his Frisbee). We never experienced dominance in the household with Abby. Sometimes I'd allow her to nudge my hand for a pat. Then I'd ask for a sit and she'd get what she needed. She never liked furniture or beds, but she slept in her bed beside me every night. I was the only one in the family who didn't mind her sloppy kisses (she'd grab a mouthful of water before searching out her intended victim). If I invited her, she'd lay her forequarters across my legs. She followed me like a shadow.

She was very ball oriented and food oriented. This made her easy to train. She heeled, sat, downed, stayed and always obeyed a recall. She loved to play.

But she was crazy. Something probably in her breeding and no doubt exacerbated by her upbringing had warped her.

For six years I worked with her: obedience, discipline, alternative behaviors, drugs, even confinement. I knew I could make her better?at least controllable. Or so I thought.

She's always been dominant around other dogs. She learned to ?leave it? and ignore any who came by and not to go postal when the neighbors' dogs were out.

She never figured out people, though. She went ballistic whenever someone went by the house, snapping, snarling, lunging and attempting to bite. She learned to behave herself. Away from home she was a different dog. Almost always. That was the problem. There were times early on where she'd solicit attention and petting from someone (tail wagging [after she learned to wag it that is] kissy faced) and seemed thrilled to make their acquaintance. Just a few times, she snapped. That's a horrible pun, but that's really what it looked like. I got to be very good at reading her signals. I knew all the miniscule dominance hints she gave. I knew when she was being submissive. On these occasions, she went from friendly, loving dog to snarling, lunging maniac.

I still thought I could fix it. More training. More structure. More discipline. More socialization.

I thought it worked.

Until the day she nearly took the face off of my 13-year-old goddaughter. Thank God I always had her leashed. I take full responsibility (irresponsibility is the better word). I was taking Abby out for a walk after being confined (because of the visitor). She's seen my goddaughter before and this time she was nearly puppyish in her joy. I thought I had made a lot of progress with her. I carefully let her approach my goddaughter. Abby kissed her and wagged her tail and asked for a belly rub. Finally! I thought. She gets it!

I started to take Abby back to her crate. My goddaughter got up to go into the kitchen. Then she switched directions, knelt down to pet Abby. Abby still acting the happy dog (not submissive, not high, slow-tail wag dominant, no slightly blown out lips kissed my goddaughter again. I told Abby to come along. That's when Abby lunged forward with a glassy-eyed, snarling, snapping growl. She missed my goddaughter by about half an inch. She gave no sign of stopping. I had that dog down and on her back and crying for her life in a heartbeat.

My goddaughter later told my daughter that the only thing she could think of is that she looked Abby in the eye. I should never ever ever EVER have allowed Abby near Kristina. I KNEW better but I thought I knew better. It almost cost Kristina scars and plastic surgery.

That's when I admitted we had done all we could for Abby. Our sweet dog, my loving shadow, was sick with an incurable illness. She was crazy. The only thing left remaining was my final duty to my old friend.

Yesterday was Abby's day. We went for a long walk. We played and cuddled and did whatever she wanted. That included a lot of treats because Abby loved her food. I wanted her last day to be golden. This morning my husband and I took her to the vet. We'd already had a long conversation with him about our options. We walked her around outside by the trees with the scents of the morning to occupy her until it was time. My husband couldn't bear it. Neither could I, but I was her person. She was my shadow. She trusted me and knew I would always look out for her. This was the last thing I could do for my Abby be with her at the end.

Maybe someone like you, who is so much more experienced with dogs than I am, could have helped her. She was beyond my capacity and that of everyone we spoke to about her. As much as it pains me to think of her on the other side of the Bridge, I know in my heart I did the right thing. Now she doesn't have to be afraid. Now she doesn't have to worry something else will dominate her or hurt her. Now she doesn't have to give herself the job of protector of the world. Now she doesn't have to wonder why she sometimes had to go crazy and then regret it. Now she is at peace.

Thank you, Ed, for your web site and all the knowledge it holds. Thank you for listening to people like me.

Colleen