My first dogs, part II

Tasha (left) and Hannah (right) not long after I got them, 2005

Do these look like the faces of trouble makers?

Yeah. Looks are deceiving. Those little devils quickly scratched and chewed up what wood they could in my back entry way (where they are photographed here). They were not yet kennel trained when I got them, so I had to teach them to sleep in the kennels quietly.

I put the crates in the garage, then I put blankets in them. I read a book to the pups while they were in the crates to calm them. Then I left them in there alone for longer and longer stretches of time. Meanwhile, I let them run free in the garage until they were comfortable with being kenneled for long stretches.

What a mistake.

The garage was insulated and had an exposed 3 foot wide section of insulation on the far wall where there used to be an outside door. The dogs decided this served as excellent entertainment, and before long they buried the cement floor in layers of torn fluff (mixed with their urine and excrement, of course).

The puppies gauged strips into the walls along the only window trying to look outside. They tried to scratch their way out by the door, resulting in a big hole. To their delight, they pulled even more insulation from this newly formed hole to spread around.

I left the crate doors open so they could walk in and out while familiarizing themselves with their new "area." Of course, I left the blankets in there so that they wouldn't have to lay on the hard bottom of the crates. Those blankets didn't last very long, suffering the same fate as the insulation had before them.

I accidentally forgot the book I had been reading to them on one of the crates, and it was demolished the next time I saw the girls.

I learned (the hard way) that I couldn't turn both dogs loose to exercise at the same time. One always had to be on a lead or tied up, or they would take off down the road, ignoring my frantic calls for them to come back.

One day (fortunately on a weekend) not long after I brought my little demons home, they discovered that the door into the garage no longer latched completely. Oh joy!! Off they went, darting down the rocky road while I remained ignorantly blissful inside the house.

The wild ones had not been gone long when I discovered their absence. Heart in my throat, I jogged down the road toward the corner carrying their leashes with me. Then I spotted them rounding the corner from the other direction, merrily trotting along while the man who lives in the house down there followed them in his truck. Oh dear, what kind of trouble had they caused, and could I deny that those hellions were mine?

The puppies led the man in the truck straight back to me, wagging their tails and displaying great delight in their latest antics. He gave me a long look and wordlessly drove off as soon as they were back at my house. I've never talked to that guy since, and I don't even know if he still lives in that house anymore. I figured out how to work the latch on the garage door so that it would remain in place in spite of the dogs's best efforts.

Tasha and Hannah were eventually comfortable in the crates so I could keep them there when needed. They never settled down enough to ever be allowed free at the same time in an unfenced area, though. Hannah could scale fences, although Tasha never learned this wonderful talent! Fortunately, neither went very far without the other.

More on those two crazies later.

My first dogs, part I

Every country-dwelling residence needs at least one dog, right? I grew up with only barn cats, so I hadn't been around dogs much when I moved to Iowa. I didn't have a clue how to train them or how much trouble they could cause. I'd been to a few dog shows with my aunt, who breeds and shows champion AKC Irish Setters. I'd played with my older brother's Cocker Spaniel, Bailey, when I visited him and his wife. That was pretty much it.

My idea of the most beautiful dogs was the breeds with more of a "wolf" look (like Alaskan Malamutes and Siberian Huskies) and German Shepherd Dogs, with their beautiful black masks. I certainly didn't care for yippy little lap dogs or dogs that really didn't even LOOK like dogs (like the hairless rats, the Chihuahuas).

Since I didn't plan on breeding or showing my dog, I checked out Petfinder to find a GSD or GSD mix available for adoption from an animal shelter not too far from where I lived. I made the naive assumption that pretty much any dog from a shelter would have the basic training. Ideally, that's how it would be, but reality is far, far removed from idealism.

First I visited the Nebraska Humane Society, since it was located in Omaha and not too far from work. I found an adorable 5 or 6 month old puppy I wanted to meet online, and I planned to stop by after work one day. I filled out the required forms, and they told me to wait in a visiting room because another family was currently meeting the dog.

Long story short about the NHS (a place I wasn't crazy about anyways because of a previous situation involving a cat I owned who died because they never responded to calls to come help her), I didn't even get to play with the puppy. They wouldn't adopt out a puppy to me because I wouldn't be able to come home every lunch hour to let the pup out to pee. They wouldn't adopt a dog out to me because I wouldn't promise to keep it as a house pet only. It is my view that dogs are primarily outdoor pets. I wanted farm dogs.

Feeling sour about the NHS, I continued my search online for rescue operations with more compatible philosophies to my own. I inquired about a few pets before I saw the photo of Hannah.

Hannah, January 2006

Hannah had the classic GSD face, although she was a mixed breed. She was listed by the Platte Valley Humane Society, which wasn't very close to me. However, I'd checked into everything closer and hadn't found any dogs to peak my interest. I emailed the lady about Hannah, and she didn't have a problem with a dog that lived mainly outdoors.

I drove all the way to just outside Columbus, Nebraska, to meet the puppy. The PVHS didn't have a building; all the dogs lived in foster care. The lady I corresponded with directed me to her house, where many of the dogs for adoption lived. She had an extensive kennel system set up around her house. There were at least twenty dogs, not including her personal pets.

Hannah definitely was a sweet girl and loved attention. She and her sister, Tasha, came from an abusive situation. They were about 7 months old when the lady picked them up, but she couldn't adopt them out for several months while the sheriff investigated the case. Now they were about 11 months old.

Tasha differed greatly from her sister. Hannah weighed at least ten pounds more than her little black sister. Tasha, while clearly part GSD, appeared shorter and stockier. I'm pretty sure they had different fathers (it's possible for puppies from the same litter to have different sires).

Tasha, April 2006

Tasha huddled in a little ball as far away from me as possible. She perked up her ears when the lady called her, but she remained at a distance. The lady caught her while I waited and brought both Hannah and Tasha to the garage so I could visit with them.

Hannah enjoyed visiting. Tasha trembled and hid behind the lady she knew. Her eyes showed wariness and some fear but no aggression. They had suffered beatings as little puppies, growing up in a trashy trailer park before being rescued a few months prior.

I elected to adopt both so they would have each other for company while I worked.

I signed the paperwork and wrote a check for the small adoption fee. Hannah hopped right into my small blue Ranger, but Tasha needed coaxing. On the drive home, Tasha cowered on the passenger seat next to the window, as far away from me as possible. Hannah lay next to me, drooling on the upholstery. She threw up once all over the floor.

That was only the beginning of the excitement to come with two wild pups.

To be continued...