In the first or second winter I was in NJ, an incident happened when my brother took the babies out front to play. My brother was not aware of Father’s hostilities or at least the extent of them. Father could fight and kill, and he did not like Andy that much. It was a constant battle keeping Father from going at Andy. Inside, Father would never try anything on Andy, but out front, Father would get a little confused with all of the commotion and activity and would revert to his feral ways. When Father was on his own for who knows how long, he fighting and killing was a way of life for him—it was a necessity.
Once in a while, he would snap at Andy, but I became keen of the events that would trigger Father’s abrupt anger and ward off any danger. Normally, all it took was a firm admonishment from me, and Father would almost always back off. Father always recognized me as the ‘alpha’ and never challenged me or show any signs of confrontation with me.
My brother, however, did not know how mean Father could be. Well, during Christmas break, my brother took them out front, much to the baby’s’ delight. I didn’t see what triggered the event because I think I had gone back to NJ to work. I didn’t get much vacation time at Hoechst-Marion-Rousell. Anyway, something triggered Father, and since no one was there who would have recognized an imminent danger, Father let out his anger and bit Andy in the leg. My poor baby was bitten all the way to the bone, the vet sad. I felt so awful for him. Andy has always been such a sweet dog, and it broke my heart to see someone being mean to him. Andy’s leg healed but who knows what kind of psychological impact it had on him. He always had tendencies for neurosis and this didn’t help.
