GarAndTeed
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I'm probably going to have some "overlap" in this post, but you make a great point! I grew up with large/giant dogs, and I agree with your point that they are often great companions for folks of all ages. Also, owners of ALL dogs (and cats, etc. for that matter) must be aware of their animals' signals and quirks, so to speak.For the most part, you'll find that the big, ole giants, are, wonderful dogs and every bit as good, or better, companions, than small dogs. No dog is perfect though they all have their quirks. The thing is that these big, powerful dogs require a different type of owner. It really isn't the dogs fault. Little dogs bite too. A lot. It's just that no one usually dies from a Peekapoo attack. The dogs may have been giving off signals for weeks. There is a language barrier there, and neither of our species have perfected overcoming it.
Our first St. Bernard, Gus, was an absolute sweetie. He let toddlers ride on his back (of course, whenever small children or strangers to him were around him, one of us was always there to supervise, just to be safe). Once when we were on vacation, we asked the neighbors across the street to take care of him; they were good friends, and were so familiar with Gus that they may as well have been family. Well, one day they sent their 16 year old girl over to feed & play with him. As us kids were younger, this girl wasn't as accustomed to Gus and his habits as the kids who were our peers were. So this girl is playing with Gus, using a rope-type tug of war toy; Gus was, naturally, trying to grab the toy from her. She wasn't aware (or just wasn't thinking) that he might unintentionally bite her, jump on her, etc. if he got too riled up; so at one point, when she was holding the toy just out of his reach, he lunged for it and bit her arm; her arm was broken. Of course, when we got back and discovered this, we were horrified. Fortunately, our neighbors (the father was a pediatrician, btw), not only didn't blame us or the dog, but admitted that they probably should have sent one of the younger kids with their sister, as they would have known immediately that Gus was getting too riled up, and would have ended the play session by giving him the toy and not further engaging him. Thank G-d for good neighbors!
Gus's story had a horribly sad ending, though. We had moved to another town; the house we moved to was in the country and had almost 3 acres of a fenced back yard; the fence, initially, wasn't flush to the house- you had to lead Gus to a gate a few feet away to put him in the yard. Shortly after we moved, my stepmother and us kids went on vacation, so my dad was alone with Gus. My parents stupidly didn't immediately have the locks on the house changed; the guy who'd been living there was a notorious drunk & gambler with at least 1 grown son who'd been busted for theft and assault. Well, my dad came home one night after having been out all evening (which was typical), and Gus staggered up to the driveway to meet him. Gus had one eye hanging by a thread, and was bleeding badly. My dad put him in the garage and immediately ran into the house (Gus couldn't have gotten to the house or driveway without the gate being opened). When my dad walked into the house, he heard footsteps and the sound of the back door being opened. There were muddy footprints all over the house, and my dad noticed that some things were missing (including 2 antique Russian dueling pistols that had been hanging on the wall). To make a long story short, these pr***s had gone through every room and robbed us blind, and had beaten Gus's face and head with the butt of a gun. Gus spent a couple days at the Vet's, and came home minus an eye. He died a couple of days later of a blood clot in his brain. Mind you, Gus had had NO WAY of getting at these dirtbags; they had to open the gate to get to him and assault him. Gus could have killed/ seriously injured either of them (the sheriff knew it was the son of the previous tenant and one of his buddies, but said he couldn't prove it, since the stuff they stole had likely already been sold...what a jerk!); but even when strangers approached Gus to beat him, he didn't attack. (I'm still enraged and heartbroken revisiting this anecdote).
As a postscript to all this, some friends from our former town had relatives who bred St. Bernards, and they gave us a puppy a day or 2 before Gus died. She was fantastic, and lived to be 15 (which is pretty old for a giant breed). However, her father was so mean and dangerous, he was put into a fenced enclosure until a Vet came out and shot him (he couldn't get close enough to give the dog an injection). Ah, the joys of inbreeding (sarcasm alert); which is another topic that, IMO, certainly contributes to dogs being messed up in many ways... and always bears scrutiny in "mean dog" cases. JMO.