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LIFE WITH GERMAN SHEPHERD DOGS
By Dawn Turner
ON THIS PAGE:
MISADVENTURES IN THE NOT-SO-MUNDANE – 03-29-2005
LIVING WITH A GSD MEANS…. – 03-30-2005
SOMETIMES A GSD’S HUMOR KNOWS NO BOUNDS…… - 01-30-2006
OUR FIRST EXPERIENCE AT THE SHOW GROUNDS…… - 05-06-2006(goes to another page)
Pushy Boy! – 03-28-2005
Xander has taken a lesson from Annie and Izzy's books. He's
getting pushy when he wants something. Of course, being Xander - he's not
as subtle as either of them. In the past, if he wanted something, he would
sit and "focus" on it. If you didn't get the point, he will look from
it to you and back again. He can stare intently at something for a good 10
minutes solid without so much as a twitch or flinch. Pretty funny to watch. Ben
gets a kick out of it every time. Makes us both laugh. Well, Xander added a new
twist the other night.
Ben has discovered that
the dogs go absolutely NUTS for root beer ice (the ice left over when you drink
a root beer). We're not sure what the deal is with root beer, but they go
bonkers for it. So, when he gets a root beer, he gives them the ice when
he's done. Xander, in all his bizarre genius, can somehow figure out when
you are nearing the bottom of a soda. Even if it's in a styrofoam cup
(ergo, not see-through) and you are using a straw. When Ben gets near the
bottom, Xander will sit next to him and focus, and wait. This is a rather
odd routine they have gotten into over the last several months (Ben typically
has a root beer once every two weeks - when we order pizza).
Xander decided to add poor
innocent ME to the mix. I drink Pepsi with my pizza, which the dogs don't
think is as great as root beer. However, they have decided they like it,
too, if the RB ice is gone. *G* I am much slower drinking my sodas
than Ben, and Xander has decided that is entirely UNACCEPTABLE. So, here I
sit watching TV and drinking my soda when Xander sits in front of me and
focuses again. I told him he could have the ice when I got done. NOT
GOOD ENOUGH apparently. From that point on, until I finally finished
drinking it, when I brought the straw to my lips, Xander nudged the bottom of
the cup with his nose. HURRY UP, for dog's sake!!!!!
Now, on one level, I was
annoyed and concerned he was going to shove the straw up my nose or something,
but on another, I couldn't stop myself from laughing at his
antics. Needless to say, laughing at such things does NOT help. I
tried to keep a straight face to avoid encouraging him, but... it didn't
work. I cracked up. So, I had "support" for the whole time
I was finishing my soda.
Thankfully, never got a
straw up my nose! LOL
Misadventures in the Not-So-Mundane – 03-29-2005
Vacuuming for most people is a mundance task. Too mundane, in
fact, to bother with without grumbling about the boredom and tediousness
associated with it. In my household, nothing could be further from the
truth. Vacuuming once in my home would give you a whole new perspective on such
mundane household chores. My Hoover comes with a specialty
attachment. It doesn't accomplish anything useful like reaching dirt,
dried grass, dust or hairballs beyond the reach of the primary vacuum
mechanism.
This special attachment
causes the vacuum to veer inexplicably off course to one side of
another. Sometimes it even stops dead in its tracks. My vacuum no
longer has side bumpers on it to protect furniture and walls, having been lost
long ago. The top and sides are scarred and battle worn, and it's not from
running into things. The vacuum is MUCH heavier with it, which fatigues my
shoulders and back faster than the vacuum alone. A 15'x20' room takes
about four times as long to vacuum with this special attachment.
I suppose the most obvious
solution would be to get rid of the attachment. But I can't bring myself to do
that. You see, this special attachment comes in the form of an 85-pound
German shepherd who decided in early puppyhood that the vacuum is nothing to
fear. In fact, it MUST be destroyed before it eats mom apparently. Despite
visions of teeth or jaw stuck in the brush, he seems to know to steer clear of
it. But he certainly does hamper the process. So I came up with one
acceptable and permanent solution to my problem and return my household chores
to the truly mundane.
Anyone want a vacuum
cleaner? Cheap. I'm keeping the attachment. *G*
Living with a GSD Means…. – 03-30-2005
Never taking a shower alone. At some point during your shower, you can fully expect a nose to appear. If you're lucky, it will ONLY be a nose and he won't decide to climb in with you. Or, worse, curl up at the other end of the tub to watch you shower.
Not being able to water the flowers/garden without watering the dog, too.
Not being able to use a sprinkler to water the yard without the risk of it being dragged IN the backdoor and hosing the kitchen down. "Look what I brought you, Mom!"
Not being able to open a refrigerator, cabinet, or other door without a big old head in the way when you go to close it. - "Door closing" is actually a "command" in our house.
Dog hair EVERYWHERE!!!! no matter how often or how thoroughly you vacuum or sweep.
A furry mass underfoot at ALL times, especially when you least need it there and most need your space.
An extra pair of eyes at your disposal when you are on your hands and knees cleaning floors or looking for something under furniture, or just trying to lay on the floor and watch TV. And they are inevitably between you and what you're trying to see.
A paw the size of my palm to the face if you make weird noises. *whack*
Not being able to hide your head. That nose and tongue WILL find you!
Never taking a vacation ANYWHERE that dogs are unwelcome, because you don't want to be stuck with anti-dog people for your vacation. How can you relax without the dog?!?!?
If you want to stay out late or longer than previously planned, your first thoughts are for whether the dog will mind being fed late and how long was it since he was last out to pee.
Lamenting over the fact that the dog eats better and receives better medical care than your two-legged family members.
Becoming an expert on that obscure science only truly dedicated pet owners understand and specialize in - POOPOLOGY, otherwise known as the science of fecal form, consistency and content. You can tell a lot about a dog by what it produces at the south end.
Not having to care if you spill food on the floor when cooking. There's someone there to clean up behind you. *G*
Not being able to cry too long before a goofy grin and cold nose swoop in to rescue you.
Never being alone and cold in the dark. There's a warm, fuzzy form close by to hug and keep you company.
Sometimes a GSD’s Humor Knows NO Bounds…… 01/30/2006
I lost Ashlee 9 days after her second birthday. She was a German shepherd, a breed not always known by outsiders as having a great sense of humor. But one incident continues to stand out in my mind as an unrivaled example of her bright sense of humor.
During Ashlee’s time in my life, I worked as a secretary for the local high school. My duties kept me at school year-round, not just when school was in session as with the other secretarial staff. On days I worked and the kids were gone, I often took Ashlee along for company, not to mention to protect me from my own fertile imagination. (Those big old school buildings get pretty creepy when you’re there all alone….) She enjoyed being with me, spending many hours during holiday breaks and the summer snoozing under the desk at my feet. I had a tiny, hole-in-the-wall office at the back of the building with one door into the copy room and another into a covered corridor outside.
Early in her second and final summer with us, I took her to work with me one day per usual. Since she was off-leash trained, I thought nothing of leaving my outer office door open for ventilation. She seldom went far, and a single word would bring her back. I had seen some teenagers hanging around in front of the office earlier that morning but didn’t give it any thought. I knew them, and Ashlee napped quietly under my desk. Now and then, she would go outside to answer nature’s call then come right back in and curl up under the desk again. These outside journeys were very short.
At one point that day, Ashlee stood at the open door, looking out in the corridor. I could hear the kids chatting, so I didn’t give it much thought. Then her head dropped, and she went into “stalk” mode. I thought maybe one of the campus squirrels had put in an appearance but got up to check, just to make sure. As I watched her quietly stalk the corridor, pausing now and then to make sure she wasn’t detected, I looked in the direction she was focused. No squirrel. Just 3 teenage boys goofing around and laughing. Nothing unusual. I nearly called her back, but I was incredibly curious what she was up to, so I just watched.
Suddenly, when she was about 10 feet from the boys, this 60-pound bundle of fur and teeth burst into action, growling and barking fiercely. She didn’t take so much as another step forward, but those boys scattered. I watched one literally climb the phone booth outside the office. Turns out, they had NO idea she was even there. Looking up at the one on top of the phone booth, she got this incredible grin on her face, tail wagging, a bright sparkle in her eyes. Then she looked at me and I could honestly see her laughing!
“Ashlee, come back here and stop teasing those boys,” I told her, trying not to laugh and failing fairly miserably. She trotted right to me with this jaunty gait that said she was just TOO GOOD for words.
The boy eventually came down off the phone booth. His comrades returned, razzing him about his reaction, even though they themselves had taken off running and didn’t stop for a few hundred yards. I spoke to them briefly, got them all laughing about the fact that Ashlee had pulled quite the humdinger of a joke on them, and went back to the office.
I have no idea WHY she chose that day, those boys, or that particular expression of humor, but it remains one of my fondest and deepest held memories of her. For all the bad days we struggled through together, that was a very good day.
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Ashlee ReneeSept 12 1996 – Sept 21 1998
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last revision 04/17/2007