The Death of Barnabus-A REAL Letter to the Editor

The death of Barnabus
Tuesday, June 27, 2006 12:44 AM EDT

To the editor [of the Daily American (of Somerset County, PA)];

The Somerset courtroom was filled on one side with barely contained excitement as the fate of Barnabus, a 1-year-old Old English Sheepdog, was handed down. The brown-uniformed officers from the department of Dog Law had all they could do to keep from high-fiving one another. Someone not knowing the horrible reason for their happiness would have surmised that they had won an all-expense paid trip to Disneyland. They hadn't. What they had won was the right to kill an impetuous 13-month-old puppy.

Old English Sheepdogs are gorgeous dogs but they have temperaments that make them not suitable for every home because they are usually head strong, high-maintenance, and too street-smart for their own good. And to make matters worse, Barnabus had been handed from person to person during his short little life. Four homes in 11 months. The first home had a new baby, the second home had a divorce, the third home had an unhappy landlord, the fourth was the home where he bit. He caught his new owner on the nose with a tooth and scraped her chin with his other tooth. Bad dog.

He could have, he should have, went to Old English Sheepdog Rescue to be evaluated and rehabilitated. The rescue was waiting for him with evaluators and trainers and proper enclosures and people who understand the breed. The judge would not permit that. The dog was killed instead. I guess that killing Barney was efficient. It may have even been the right thing to do. I don't know. The thing about killing Barnabus is that we will never know if he would have settled his little butt down once he had a little age and proper training under his belt.

The unusual part of this story is that the dog was found to not be a dangerous dog by the Court in a four-hour long hearing. Not guilty. Not a dangerous dog. Yet, despite a favorable ruling for the talented attorney, Robert Morocco, on behalf of Stray No More - the Court was persuaded to declare Barnabus a dangerous dog by the four animated dog wardens after the verdict was announced. The owner who had been the victim of the bite was given the choice of what would happen to Barnabus. “I want the dog dead,” she told the court without a second of hesitation. Attorney Morocco and Stray No More had won the war but lost the battle.

It rained the night that Barnabus died. He loved water. Barney who would go upstairs every single day and crawl in the bath tub patiently waiting for someone to turn on the bath water. That crazy puppy would stand under the water spouting trying to catch the rain water in his big fat mouth. He could find every mud puddle ever created. My own dogs quiver and shake when the sky blackened but that was Barney's cue to beg to go out so that he could lope along in back yard and catch every rain drop in his silly, simple-minded way.

“Yo, Barn-e-bus, you want to go out and dance in the rain?” would bring him running from any part of the house. He was like a young colt - all legs, clumsy, skidding along the floor as he rounded the corner to come outside with me and get a good dose of rain.

It rained the night that Barnabus died. I think that it was God was mourning the smallness of the people who have risen to high places - the four members of Dog Law Enforcement - who had all four left their other duties undone throughout the state of Pennsylvania to make sure that a one-year old puppy was killed on Thursday.

It is two days later. The rain has long since stopped. I suspect God has many other things to mourn. He is probably going to leave it up to us to cry for Barnabus.

Janet Marie Good

Executive Director for Stray No More

Somerset
Source:http://www.dailyamerican.com/articles/2006/06/27/opinion/letters_to_editor/letter01.txt

This is so sad, Stacy had even advised contacting NEOSR for help, apparently that didn't happen Maybe if a rescue group had been called this could have been avoided.

The rescue was waiting for him with evaluators and trainers and proper enclosures and people who understand the breed.

Why didn't the person return him the rescue???????????

Aggressive dogs need love, hard work, and understanding

Notes: If you are not the past owner of an Old English Sheepdog, you may not recognize that what our gorgeous gentleman has is a summer cut. The cut makes him look like he is all legs, doesn't it?? It will grow out into a gorgeous coat by the end of August --when he needs the warmth again. Check out those beautiful pale blue eyes...he will capture your heart quite easily once you look into them. Barnabus is a one year old male pure bred Old English Sheepdog. He is so busy, so loving aand ever so much fun!! Barnabus loves other dogs, cats, kiddos over ten, and all grown ups. We can't say enough good things about him: Wonderfully housetrained, Knows all kinds of tricks, plays ball, always up for something new. If you are full of fun and joy and looking for the type of doggie bud who will keep you entertained--ask us for an application for Barnabus, boy wonder dog.

[ http://search.petfinder.com/petnote/dis ... id=6046995
Reproduced here for posterity.]

I was so upset that I wrote a letter to Strays No More and told them that they at least are partially to blame for adopting this dog out to someone who obviously had no knowledge of the breed.

I would have preferred a letter asking them more about the situation first, but I understand your emotions. Frankly I really wanted to wait to publish all of this so that I could ask the parties about it without them reading judgemental posts (mine included), but my frustration got the better of me.

The people who adopted Barnabus had owned another Old English Sheepdog for
thirteen years. They came with impeccable recommendations. We have been
around for ten years and we always try our best to do what is right by each
and every animal. I assure you, we did not do a sloppy job of interviewing
or investigating the people who adopted Barnabus. They passed all of the
levels. I owned an Old English Sheepdog for 11 years so I feel that I knew
a little something about the breed and what was needed in a home for him.

I loved Barnabus. He spent the past two and a half months at my home
awaiting his trial. I kissed his fuzzy head and told him how pretty he was
every single day.

I deliberately waited to get back to you because I wanted to try him out for a little bit to see if his bad behavior was habitual or for cause. I was putting myself in a novice category because the 'dangerous dog' label had me spooked. Once I settled myself down, I began to watch what was going on... We had two skirmishes. My 13 year old, Dawber Dawg, was biting Barnabus on the legs, attempting to boss him around and growling low every time he came near her. Dawber gets into a lot of trouble with the other dogs because she is so bossy and now that she is older, she doesn't get much respect but that doesn't stop her from being bitchy with everyone. Within the blink of an eye the second thing happened in that particular incident...The 14 year old, Rookie the Cookie, was just moseying around, coming between Barnabus and the food I was making for supper when the first round happened. Barnabus was still wound up over Dawber and Rookie just happened to be there ten seconds later. With 8 dogs, someone is always there. I don't know. No one was hurt but putting Barnabus into the basement to keep him away from everyone was a big challenge for my husband because he was out of control and trying to bite everyone around him. It seemed to be fear because there were so many dogs he didn't know around him. He was just swinging blindly.

Maybe he was guarding the food, thinking foolishly that I was making it for him, I guess. Since then I have put him in the basement every time I am made as much as a piece of toast if I could not be watching over everything at every second. Food seemed to be one of the triggers but maybe not.

I started just today to allow him upstairs while I made breakfast but I put on his basket muzzle. I wouldn't have needed it. He was an angel. I hated the idea of the muzzle but it was either that or he was isolated. I vote for having him up around us so that he can get his share of kisses and hugs and watch tv. (Incidentally, I forbid him to be on the chairs or couches despite every other dog laying around on them all day long because that is ANOTHER trigger to get him guarding. But interestingly, NOT with the muzzle. Hmmmm....)

The second incident happened last night. Everyone was in a state of semi-sleep when Barnabus came too near to the meanest dog of mine, Buffy St. Marie. Buffy is so miserable. She jumped up and flew into Barnabus twice. I got him away from her but unfortunately steered him into a direct path of Dawber. He turned on Dawber and they had a small skirmish. No one was hurt. I just am jumpy about him. Truthfully, without the label, without the hype--I would just have chalked this all up to his high spirits and how ill-tempered some of my own dogs are. And I wouldn't be blowing everything up. And I would be just handling it.

The dynamics here are different than most homes. I have a lot of medically challenged dogs and most of them are elderly and grumpy and set in their ways and then there are twenty-some cats, at least half of which cannot bear the idea of sharing their home with anyone else right now. This translates into a non-welcoming foster home. I rarely use my home for fostering, and then it is usually only puppies under six months old. A jumpy, tickled to death with life, dying to play with ANYONE, pup, is not going to find this a haven.

Barnabus has spent hours in a play crouch and only had one taker which lasted for a half hour. He is bored stiff. I am not allowed to walk him, he is not allowed to go out and rip and tear in our fenced-in back yard which is about an acre, and must remain on a leash and muzzled at all times when he is not inside the house. He has SO much energy and there is no way to exercise him that it is awful. And he will remain this way until June 22.

I wouldn't call him unpredictable, at least not yet. Ill-behaved, certainly. He has settled in and is now understanding the rules better. I am leaving the cloth leash on him all of the time and that has come in handy for many reasons. Thank you for your help. Sheepdogs aren't really so different from other headstrong, active, playful, loving, crazy in the head mutts that I deal with every single day of the week. I hate the idea of having him go anywhere already. By June 22, I will be firmly entrenched in his corner.

He was in four homes in 12 months and not one of them seemed too interested in making him understand how dogs live sucessfully with people. The result was a spoiled, uncontrolled, brat of a puppy that no one wanted around them. Barnabus figured that he didn't have to listen to anyone about anything because he never had to do that before. I suspect the obedience training came accompanied with screaming and hitting when he finally pushed the envelope far enough that someone noticed him. He had a tough life so far. Sure. But he can't hide behind that anymore. If he is going to have a full life there are lessons he must learn and learn quickly. I am going to try my best to use the next six weeks to his advantage. If you have any good ideas or training tips, please let me know. I will try any and all of your ideas, Madeline.

Even knowing how much work he is going to take does not lessen my resolve to find him a great home with people who will love him and keep his little fuzzy butt in line. He is not a dog for the weak at heart. Do you have any pre-screened Old English Sheepdog people that would share their lovely home and allow Barnabus to grow old with them?

-----Original Message-----
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The death of Barnabus( http://www.dailyamerican.com/articles/2 ... tter01.txt )
Daily American Online (subscription) - Somerset,PA,USA
The Somerset courtroom was filled on one side with barely contained excitement as the fate of Barnabus, a 1-year-old Old English Sheepdog, was handed down. ...


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This as-it-happens Google Alert is brought to you by Google.

Elissa,
I read the forum with disbelief. Suzanne Hunt called me on March 27th and asked me if we would take Barnabus. I asked her why she was giving up a puppy. "It really isn't my dog. I was just watching the dog as a favor for a friend until it went with its new family--but then the family backed out and I am not allowed to keep it. My landlord told me to get rid of it or I will have to move." Hmmmmmmmmm. Sounded like a real scenario to me. "Tell me about the dog," I say to her. She says he is playful and sweet and rambunctious and wants his own way. Sounds like a typical puppy. Then I ask the question that we ask no matter if the dog is a chihuahua or a mastif..."HAS THE DOG
EVER BITTEN??" Nope, she says, but he did snap at her daughter on the first day she had him because her daughter had tried to take the dog's food bowl away from him. That had happened about fifteen minutes after he arrived at her house. "ANY OTHER GROWLS, SNAPS OR BITES?" "No." Suzanne wrote us a paper that had four or five paragraphs about what she knew about Barnabus. We took him and put a "children must be ten years or older" tag on him and insisted that anyone applying to adopt him must be an experienced Old English Sheepdog owner.

On March 27th, Suzanne called me and asked me if I would help her place an 11 month old Old English Sheepdog. When I asked her why she wanted to place a puppy, she said, "This really isn't even my dog. A friend of mine was moving, found someone who wants to adopt the dog but they couldn't take it right away so she asked me if I could keep the dog until the new owners could take over. Then those people changed their minds. This really isn't fair to me. My landlord told me that I will have to move if I don't get rid of him."

That all sounded like a real story to me. Then I asked the question I always ask no matter if the dog is a chihuahua or a mastif-- "HAS THE DOG EVER BITEN?" "Nope. Well, he did snap at my daughter on the first day we got him because she tried to take his food dish away about fifteen minutes after he got here. That was my fault because I shouldn't have sent her over to him to get the dish." I said, "Any other growling, snapping or biting incidents?" "NO", she tells me. I asked Suzanne to write up four or five paragraphs telling me everything she knows about the dog and to put the information about the snapping in capital letters so that we can use it to fill in anyone who is interested in adopting Barnabus about him. We immediately slapped on a "no children under ten in the home" tag and made it a rule that the only home he could go to was with an experienced owner of an Old English Sheepdog.

We received 53 answers to the Petfinder.com ad even though it was only on the Petfinder.com site for 11 hours.

I found what I considered to be an excellent home for Barnabus. The Hearns--Ron and Christine--Ex-owners of a Sheepie--I sent you their application. I checked both of their references which were glowing and spoke with her old vet--the one from Max, their first Old English Sheepdog, who had died two years ago. They had no children--grown or otherwise--making them even better candidates, in my opinion. When he went to that home, I told the Hearns that Barney needed to be treated like a whisper dog. The quieter they spoke to him, the more they allowed him to think that the decisions were really his idea--the better he would react. We understand, they told me.

Two days later the Hearns bring in a dog obedience person that both Ron and Christine describe as "aggressive" and she shouts, screams, tugs, hits, and barks orders at him. Barnabus is beside himself. Fifteen minutes after she leaves Christine kneels down in front of Barnabus and makes a quick movement to pat his head. He attempts to nip her thumb, she screams, he swings his head around to face her and catches her nose with one top tooth and scrapes her chin with a bottom tooth.-------THIS IS THE BITE THAT BARNABUS DIED FOR.

I went to the Hearns' house and brought Barnabus to my own home so that he would be safe over the two and a half months until his trial.

Now this is the part that you and Ron and the rest of your gang may find interesting. SUZANNE HUNT--the third owner and participater in your forum--TESTIFIED AGAINST BARNABUS AT His TRIAL. SHE SAID IN COURT THAT SHE HAD GOTTEN THE DOG FROM A FRIEND. SHE SWORE THAT THERE WAS ONLY ONE SNAP AND THAT NO SKIN HAD BEEN BROKEN OR BRUISED. She claimed not to know about any other home other than the one she got Barney from. SHE WAS UNDER OATH.

JANET

Elissa,

Suzanne Hunt only told me about the snap---meaning no contact---and I required her to write it down in big, block letters. I went over the snapping incident with the Hearns and even gave them the four or five paragraphs that Suzanne had written. We discussed it at length. They said that in their opinion puppies and kids do not mix. My sentiment exactly.

After the bite, Ron Hearn called Suzanne Hunt and bullied her in to giving him the name of the people who had given her the dog because he was trying to find out background information on Barnabus. Ron Hearn traced it backwards to four owners plus the pet store and the breeders. If I would have had an inkling that Barnabus had been through so many homes I would have put the brakes on him going anywhere until I got to the bottom of why he was losing all of the homes. But Suzanne didn't bother to tell me--EVEN THOUGH SHE KNEW ABOUT IT AT THE TIME THAT SHE GAVE ME BARNABUS.

The first I knew about the other homes was after the bite. The first I knew about all of the bites was when you shared the forum information with me, Elissa.

Janet

Sadly, it has also come to my attention that Barnabus was intact.

Elissa,

Okay, now this is where some of the things that went on are my own fault. I made two major mistakes. Two rookie mistakes.
1. When Suzanne gave me Barnabus, it was loud and confusing. Her girls were crying, I felt bad for them, Barnabus was barking and jumping around. Suzanne had told me over the phone that Barnabus had all of his shots. When she handed me the packet of info on Barnabus, I didn't double-check, which is pretty much standard operating procedure after ten years. I didn't look.

2. The night that I met Christine and Ron Hearn was the FIRST time that I checked the paperwork. He had all kinds of trips to the vet in his 11 months--five trips in the past couple of months. I discovered that the paperwork for Barnabus' rabies shot was not in his packet. As soon as I saw this I told the Hearns that we couldn't finish the adoption because he HAD to have that paperwork. I told them that I would take the dog back to Somerset and have the shot done the following day and we could make arrangements to meet the next day. They said, "We are taking the dog in for his pre-surgery bloodwork (he was scheduled to be neutered at the Hearns' vet by us on the 11th of April--one week from when he went with the Hearns) tomorrow morning and we will get him a shot then. I offered to pay for the shot but they wouldn't hear of it. I BELIEVED THEM. I DIDN'T JUST TAKE HIM BACK HOME WITH ME. I have lived that moment over and over in my head a million times. If I had just taken him back...Dammit. Dammit.

Anyhow, I am sure you can guess the end to the story. They did take him to see the vet the next day but they didn't get the shot as they had promised they would. After Barnabus bit Christine, Ron immediately called me. The doctors at the emergency room where Ron had taken Christine after the bite, had an issue with the paperwork for Barnabus' rabies shot. They wanted proof that it had been done, of course.

I knew that it had been done, I only needed to call Suzanne and get a copy from her. When I called Suzanne she said she hadn't gotten him a rabies shot as she had told me. What she had meant to say was that she had gotten worm medicine. I could feel my skin crawling around on me. What had I been thinking??? Why hadn't I insisted on taking him back to Somerset.

The Hearns were furious when I told them that Suzanne hadn't given him a shot. They called my dog warden, Dennis Wetzel, who was only too pleased to help them teach me a lesson.


Stray No More has been around for ten years. We are all foster homes. In the state of Pennsylvania the dog law wardens are allowed to run their county in whatever manner they choose. If we lived in any of the counties bordering us we would be able to have a kennel license for each of our foster homes, they would be regulated and we could be happily protecting and adopting out our little sweethearts with the blessing of the dog warden. In Somerset County that is not the case. Dennis Wetzel hates our program even though we are 501c3, registered as a charity and listed as a non-profit. This was his golden opportunity and he snatched up his chance and ran with it.

Janet

Elissa,
The state ordered the doggie quarantined. The Hearns were supposed to keep Barnabus in quarantine but Ron called me and told me that he wanted us to please do that since things were in such an uproar with Christine being afraid of Barney and him being mad at the dog. I felt so sorry for them. I crawled in my car and headed out to Lancaster--a five hour, roughly, trip.

When I got to the Hearns' they did not have the dog contained in any way. As a matter of fact Barnabus greeted me at the door. Christine was feeding him chunks of cheese and bending down to kiss him on the bridge of his nose--not appearing to be in any great distress or unduly afraid of Barney. She had some neo-sporin-type stuff on her nose and chin that made it shiny and you could see where the tooth had left a mark on her nose and her chin looked carpet burnt.

I agreed to take Barnabus back home with me for quarantine and evaluation by a behavior specialist that I know in Somerset. I brought him back to Somerset and had him go to the home of one of our fosters. ( I rarely do any fostering because I have eight elderly dogs (from 9 to 14 years old) of my own and about twenty-some cats for Stray No More and my home is not as welcoming as some of the other members' houses.)

On Tuesday my dog warden, Dennis Wetzel, came to my home along with a dog warden from another county and the chief of the Borough police for Somerset and demanded that I take Barnabus to the Somerset County Humane Society--our arch enemy--to be quarantined. He indicated that we could not be trusted to do it. I took him to the Humane Society within the hour. He stayed with them for ten days.

During the time that Barnabus was at the Humane Society I spoke to New England Old English Sheepdog Rescue. I made arrangements for him to be neutered here at our vet in Somerset once he came out of quarantine because I wasn't about to let him go anywhere without that done. I figured I had made enough mistakes for awhile. I made an appointment with Carlene, a behavior specialist, to have Barney evaluated whenever he came out of quarantine. The stage was set.

I received a call to go to the Humane Society to pick Barnabus up. As soon as I came through the door there Dennis came to me with a fistful of citations right inside the Humane Society and in front of all of the workers who were smirking and enjoying my embarassment immensely. Of the citations he gave to me there was one I had earned legitimately--a citation for no rabies shot for Barnabus-- but several that I did not deserve. Dennis called me a dealer, called Barnabus a dangerous dog, called me a harborer of a dangerous dog. A court date was set for June 22nd.

Janet

I hope Dennis feels proud of himself, what a pathetic, despicable man he is .

Elissa,
Several months ago I went to court to get special permission to keep my own eight elderly dogs at my house. Our borough has a limit of four dogs. My guys are all the result of rescue--Puppy Boy and Puppy Girl have seizures. Dawber Dawg is almost blind, Rookie the Cookie is deaf. Repo has skin cancer. Shirlee Mae has hip dysplaysia. Buffy St. Marie came out of a house with 57 dogs in it and is crazy as a loon. The only regular dog is Boston Tea Party. This was well publicized, the decision that came down was that we could ABSOLUTELY not have any other dogs at our house of the borough would step in and take four of my old doggies away. Everyone was aware of this in our little town. Especially Dennis.

Dennis decided that the only way that Barnabus was to leave the Humane Society would be if he came to my house. Not to one of our members' homes. He said that Barney was mine and he had to come to MY house or I would be charged with abandonment and Barnabus would be euthanized on the spot because I had abandoned him and given ownership to the Humane Society and THEY would not adopt out a vicious, biting dog.

I spent the entire day on the phone trying to speak with one person in the Dog Law Enforcement who had any compassion or who could think on their own. I never found one. I spoke, begged, pleaded, cried, threw the phone, cajoled, and screamed at these people to please understand that we have other members who would be glad to keep Barnabus for the two and a half months until his trial. They said no. I take the dog or they would kill the dog. Whatever.

I took Barnabus home with me. As soon as Dennis found out that I had made that decision he brought over the chief of the Borough police with him to make sure that I was treating Barnabus okay, to let me know that the dog was not allowed to leave my property for any reason--the neuter was out, the assessment was out and he had to stay on a leash at all times and muzzled when he was outside--and to make an excellent witness to the fact that I had brought another dog in my house to live despite the warnings from the borough. Something will be done about that at my appeal concerning my own dogs that is scheduled for July 11th--you can bank on that.

I sent you the emails that I exchanged with Granny Annie and another person from OES rescue. At the beginning, I was leery of Barnabus--I guess I expected his head to swivel around or something--but I soon got past that. He made me get past it. He was too cool for me to treat with kid gloves for very long.

He and I formed a wonderful bond. I would recite the pledge of allegiance to him in a booming voice and he would cock his head from one side to the other, trying and trying to understand what I wanted from him. I would whisper his name when he was in the other room and he would come flying to see what was up. I have a goofy way of saying everyone's name. It is like giving each one of them a nickname. He was always the Mama's Boy Barn- e- bus.

Janet