November 12th is forever tainted for Jaime, whose beloved Boxer girl, Quinn, was savagely mauled to death in front of her on that very date, four years ago. This is her story:
At approximately 7:43, my brother called. I talked to him for 12 minutes while in the garage and came back upstairs to my room. Three minutes later, I called 911.
Many of us celebrate the births of our loved ones as well as mourn the loss of our loved ones. Quinn was six, she was a boxer, she was 'just a dog', expected to live another 4-6 years. That night, my life changed forever. More than I could ever put into words. I think of the little things I did wrong, the graphic details, the sounds, the sights, the smells, etc almost every night I lay my head down. Tonight is the anniversary of the attack, when the pit bulls turned on me & Quinn.
It all happened so very fast but yet seemed to take forever. I am not here to condemn pit bulls, I'm just here to share the life of Quinn and make others listen to the way she died. She was so very pretty, a flashy fawn that was given to me by my pops as a Christmas present, he brought her home in a stocking. I named her Joey for a few days and then Quinn came to be the final choice. She went through a lot with me, during a very tough time of my life. We moved into this new house a year before her death.
She finally had the doggie door, free reign of the house and was finally the 'only dog'. She always had a racquetball in her mouth, her tiny nub of a tail was always shaking, especially when she brought the turtle in from outside and thought he was a toy to push around the hardwood floors.
The pit bulls moved in after knowing her for four years. All she wanted, was to be a part of their bond. She would run and play and lick their faces, thinking she was becoming a part of their pack. I made a few mistakes, I should have listened to my gut, I should have made them go...this was her house and he promised he would never let her get hurt. I trusted in that. I've forgiven myself, I've accepted the way she died but I may never forgive him. She was my girl, and I watched her fight for her life, trying to surrender to her torturers. She screamed like a child, the blood was everywhere. I had to walk away from her, I couldn't save her. I knew, while laying in the bathroom trying to wrap my arms around her and pick her up out of their grip, I knew that I was putting my own life in danger and could not let my family lose me in that way. Yes, my finger was crushed, my scars will always be there. But no living soul should ever have to experience what she suffered in her final moments on this earth.
I will forever share her story on this day, it's the least I can do. I have loved pit bulls in the past, and there are still a couple I love to this day - but please, please know that if ever they snap, it may be too late. Three years and one day ago, I too was saying that it was the owner, not the dog - but I learned the lesson the hard way. The pit bulls died a very peaceful death, with me at their side, not like my girl Quinn, who was ripped apart like a wishbone in front of my face. There is no worse feeling than that helplessness, being unable to save the one who looked to you for security.
Yes, I know Quinn was just a dog, as far as the statistics go, but I often let my mind wander to what if it would have been a child or even me. I promise you, it is not worth the chance. Keep your families safe, and this includes that little four legged dog that trusts in you as his or her only friend. More importantly, listen to your gut.
For more info go to dogsbite.org