My family and I have had mastiffs for years now. We’ve had nine so far, but we only have them two at a time for obvious reasons. At 200+ pounds each, having two mastiffs is a lot of dog, especially if you’re allergic!
For years I have also worked as a volunteer photographer for dog rescue groups. I’ve snapped many a photo of homeless dogs because good pictures make it easier for these dogs to find good homes. But after doing it for years, I began to feel a little convicted–I didn’t want to be a dog snob and only get mastiffs (even though their personalities suit me to a T) when there were so many mixed breeds available.
So last spring I began to drop hints that I might like to adopt a new puppy. A mixed breed, just another little puppy to care for. After all, our oldest girl, Ivy, just turned seven, and that’s geriatric in mastiff years. And a one-dog house just feels so empty . . .
So we went through all the paperwork and did everything necessary to adopt a puppy from a local rescue. I wanted a puppy so I could train and socialize him/her–because we also run an airbnb from our house, I couldn’t have a dog that didn’t like strangers or was aggressive. Being in charge of the training and socialization, I thought, would help counteract that.
So in June we brought Toby home. He snuggled and slept in my arms the entire way to the house. And I did one of those doggie DNA tests and discovered that he was mostly Great Pyrenees, St. Bernard, Rotteweiler, Labrador Retriever, Bloodhound, and a few other things, too. And those are BIG DOGS. I laughed–after all, a little dog might be mistaken for an appetizer at our house.
And so Toby lived with us and grew. And grew. I taught him to sit and go down, which is all I’ve really ever needed to teach my mastiffs (though Ivy did earn her Canine Good Citizen award). I hardly ever took him out on a leash because we live on a big, fenced yard, so he couldn’t escape.
And that’s when the problems began. Toby would go out with us and be fine, but the instant he got bored, he’d begin to jump up and bite our arms . . . and the bigger he got (we’re now talking about 70 pounds), the harder he would pull. Hubby and I would come into the house covered with blood and bruises. Worst of all, when I would try to keep the dog off me by using my hands, he only thought I was playing and would jump and bite all the more. Trust me–there were days when I ran into the house and locked him out, not caring if I ever saw him again.
Then one night, in tears, I wrote the rescue organization and said I was going to have to bring Toby back. He was out of control, our grandkids were terrified of him, and our middle dog, Jazzy, was also too scared to come out of the bathroom if Toby was around.
The kind lady who runs the rescue said they didn’t have any available foster homes, so could I keep him a while longer?
And that’s when I decided I was either going to keep Toby or kill him. And since I can’t even kill a chicken, I opted for KEEP, so I ordered an online dog training course and set out to train Toby.
So far all our lessons have focused on “watch” and “touch,” which are elemental to training a dog, but I noticed something else. The minute I put a leash on Toby, he became a different animal–still wary, still Toby, but he didn’t act as though we were his personal chew toys. And when he DID jump, I could hold the leash up and away, keeping him off my arms.
And that’s when it hit me– A leash is a blessing. It saves lives, canine and human.
Maybe that’s why God keeps us on a leash . . . it’s only when we pull and strain and snap and try to escape that we end up in real trouble. The leash–God’s restraint in any area, be it timing or direction or curbing our desires–is for our Good.
So pray for me and Toby as we continue our journey together. We’re still learning, but he’s one of the pack now . . . and even Jazzy is slowly learning to tolerate him. Long live the leash!
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Angela, congratulations on puppy training! I adopted a 5 month rat terrier, and he turned out to be very mouthy, not biting, but wanting my fingers in his mouth. I started putting up STOP hands, saying “Nice, nice” and then stroking him. It seems to work, but I do continue to reinforce “Nice, nice” and also teach it to the grandchildren. Happy Dog House!
Good idea with the open hands! Glad it’s working for you! I know dog training is a long process, but it’s so nice to see progress!
Oh what a good analogy! Not a bit surprised that you decided KEEP. And I’m glad you did! (We have a Tobi too, but she’s not a dog. 😉 )
From our Toby to yours–Happy New Year! :-). We’re hanging in there–when Toby is sweet, he’s the sweetest thing around. :-). Just like your Tobi, I’m sure!
Oh, the first year of a puppy! Boo as an adult is only 10 pounds, but when she was a 4 pound puppy her teeth were like needles and my arms were covered in little punctures. So glad you are keeping Toby, but I’m thinking your dog food bill for those three must be about the size of my house payment (says Robin as she pours half a cup of kibble into Boo’s dog dish).
Yes, when Toby got adult teeth, I hoped our problems were over . . . but by then, his weight made even the adult teeth pierce skin. (Doesn’t help that as we age, our skin has thinned, which makes those bites even worse.) But we are definitely doing better than we were before! and half a cup of kibble? LOL! I can’t even imagine . . .
Great post, Angie! I have found the same to be true for our puppy–and the trainer we went to confirmed it! But I love that it is what the Lord does with us, too. That constraints are actually a blessing.
Amen. A leash is the perfect analogy. 🙂 I never realized that until the other day . . .
“a little dog might be mistaken for an appetizer at our house” LOL! Keep us updated on Toby’s progress, Angela. Here’s hoping he’s on his way to becoming a peaceful member of your pack.
Thanks, Becky. Yesterday something upset his tummy, so he was as meek as a lamb, but I’m sure he’ll be back to his energetic ways soon. He’ll be a good boy . . . I’m determined! 🙂