During high school, I had a friend whose family had two Samoyeds. BEAUTIFUL dogs!!!
Sunny lived up to his name - happy, friendly, and never a problem. Sam, OTOH, was kind of an ahole - he wouldn't lunge for you or anything like that, but if you put a hand too near, it was going to get bitten. One day, company came, and they had Sam locked away - behind 3 doors in the basement that the daughter, who had been there before, was thoroughly admonished to keep well away from.
So, naturally, that was what she did at first opportunity. And, predictably, got bitten. Not super-serious, but his teeth broke the skin. Parents freaked out, and managed to alienate themselves for life from my friend's family by pressing the matter into court, at which point, Sam got a death sentence. I mean, I understand their anxiety over this, but come on - these people were supposedly good friends, and the girl had a huge part in her own injury. It was, in my mind, akin to needing to tell her not to drink bleach every time she came over.
Two years later, they got a call from the people that had moved into the flat above their grandmother's former salon, to where this big white dog had wandered. As I said, it took him 2 years, but no one knows how he escaped (probably sold by an SPCA worker) or how long that odyssey took him. He managed to find his way from almost the extreme east of Vancouver, to a spot even closer to the extreme west. Literally miles of trackless urban wilderness that held no scent trail whatsoever, but he somehow made it, and lived out the rest of his life with the family.
That was as close to an animal miracle as I've ever come.
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