Guilt and Shame—two reasons why no one talks about behavioural euthanasia

Rover with his sister Betty. I thought we’d grow old together. Photo by author.

It’s been six months since I had Rover put down. He was only 16 months old. Despite a perfect start in life and plenty of socialization, training and affection, my beautiful Golden Retriever cross puppy had turned into an unpredictable, aggressive dog.

At first I thought it was teenage hormones when, at eight-and-a-half months of age, he’d start fights with other intact young male dogs.

The solution? Get him fixed. As he was a largish dog, I was planning to wait until he was a year, but because of his troublesome behaviour I had him snipped at nine months so I could nip the problem in the bud, so to speak.

It didn’t help. His aggression got worse, expanding to any dog he didn’t like. He got kicked out of daycare. He attacked two puppies at a dog park. I realized he could never be let off leash or visit any dog park again as there was no way of predicting what dog would trigger him.

Then he started acting aggressively toward people. Like a woman in a yellow jacket. Or a mom with a stroller. Or a man. Just walking by, minding his own business.

“Every time I walked Rover, it felt like I had a grenade at the end of my leash. And he was holding the pin.”