I haven't seen Grenade in 3 or 4 weeks, and while she's disappeared for a week or two at a time, she's never been gone this long. I was getting suspicious that something happened. Tonight I heard a dog barking outside and went out to investigate, hoping it was her. I ended up talking with a Haitian man who gardens an empty lot near me and who was training his dog. I spoke with him about my missing dog and peeked in my neighbor's yard to see if the bark I was hearing was Grenade. The neighbor came out, too, and I was asking the two of them if they'd seen Grenade.
At first I didn't understand them because I didn't know the word for poisoned, but since it contains some form of the word "venom" I figured it out. Apparently she was poisoned by someone nearby. And I'm sad.
I totally understand why someone would want to. She barked super ugly at Haitians walking through my neighborhood, she chased motorcycles (and cars, from time to time), and she barked and followed the ice cream man. She was lovely to our family, but not so lovely to others. And I had recently seen someone throw a rock at her because she was barking at him. I guess someone got fed up.
Some would argue that this is why we should have officially made her ours and brought her inside our gate, and they'd have a point. But what I loved about Grenade was that she was free and she chose to be our friend. We could go away for a week and she'd be fine. And then we could go for a jog when I got back. She wasn't pooping all over our patio (which has no grass), she wasn't keeping me up at night barking (usually--she still chose to guard in front of our house a great deal and would sometimes keep me up), and we loved her visits and giving her our leftover chicken bones.
I know, you're not supposed to do that, but a street dog isn't picky. She loved them. And our slightly outdated lunch meat, too.
But I'm really sad knowing that she is dead. She was my doggy friend, and I don't really like most dogs. She was my one exception. And I'll miss her.