Why Assessing Is so Important!

Years ago I said that I would never rehome any dog that I had not met, assessed and spent time with. This gave me peace of mind that I knew that dog inside and out, that I had done everything possible to ensure that it was ready for every situation. I also think this makes my rescue better, and why I have so many successful adoptions.

So, 16 new dogs came in, all needing assessing, with dogs, people, different situations. I have been assessing dogs for years, and take things slowly, as I have no background history. I am starting from ground zero, often with the larger dogs they have been caged separately, therefore, I don't even know how they are with dogs.

I had several large dogs come in, one was huge, but a breed I know as I have one of my own. He showed no issues or problems around people or other animals, and on the third day of him being here, it was time for his assessments to start. I spent around 20 minutes in the pen with him, playing, recalling, no issues at all. The other dogs were let out to join him, again no issues at all.

I took photos, played with the dogs and was confident at this point, he was going to adjust to life well, and that yet again another dog that had been let down by humans. In the next few moments my life flashed before my eyes, as he grabbed my leg, knocked me off my feet and dragged me around like a toy.

As my head hit the floor with every throw, he never let go of my leg for more than a second, and only to re grab, and shake some more. At this point I thought I was going to die, this dog was relentless. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the other dogs coming running towards us, and I thought I am truly fucked now, as more than one dog there was no way I was going to survive.

As Solomon leapt in the air, I did my hail mary's, and waited, but it was not me he wanted, he had jumped on the rottweiler biting down on the back of his head, and at the moment he released. I took my chance and got to my feet, adrenaline carrying me I got to the gate and out.



I looked down, my jeans were destroyed, I knew I had to see the damage he had done. As I cut through the jeans the pain was unbearable, and my legs went from under me. I called people, and explained what had happened and I needed help, yep takes a dog attack for me to ask for help!

I peeled back my jeans, and saw just how bad it was, in parts I had no leg, what was once an amazing tattoo was all but gone.





My daughter arrived, and as always her pleas to sit went over my head, as I had to get the dogs back in and kenneled for the night. With that achieved, the next hour was a rush of ambulances, instructions being shouted out about who to call, what needed doing, and that I would be back later.
At the hospital the reality of how bad my leg was hit me, this was far more than a couple of stitches. In places he had eaten my leg, and others the flesh was badly torn. He had destroyed a tattoo, and a new pair of jeans.

I underwent two hours of reconstructive surgery, and three hours after it I had discharged myself. Not because I think I'm so big and brave, but because there is simply no one else to care for all these animals. I also had to face that dog, to look him in the eyes and ask why. Of course he could not tell me, and I will never know why.

For now I am carrying on with life, just slowly, I am strapped from thigh to toes, and in the next few days the dressings will come off to reveal the work they have done.

I would never wish this much pain on anyone, which is why assessments are so vital, and why I know I do a good job. I may have paid the price but better me than an innocent person in the street or in a new home.