Where I Talk About the Games I Love

There are a lot of games and stuff I like to play when I am not playing ball outside. But truthfully, I have to say that most of my inside games involve balls, too. I like it when Mom tosses me a ball, I catch it, and throw it back to her with my mouth. Sometimes, we play speedball where Mom gathers up a bunch of my balls, asks if I am ready, and pitches them to me one after another,  real fast. I usually get bonked on the head during this game because I forget what we are doing and pause to chew on one of my favorites. When we play soccer, Mom rolls the ball to me and I act like a goalie and use my feet to stop it from getting past me. We also play this same game with Mom using my toy hamburger like a hockey puck. She does a victory dance if she succeeds and I squeak the toy if I win.

Mom is teaching me a new game right now. She makes me sit at one end of the hall, puts a ball in the middle, and then she goes to the other end. She will hold up one finger and say “Ready” and then “Set” and after about 22 hours, she will finally say “Go.” Then I race to get the ball before she does. (Sshh!  It really is not much of a race, I could beat her on one leg.) The problem with this game is that I get so excited, I forget to wait for “Go” and then Mom calls me a cheaterbutt and makes me go back to the beginning. But, at least this is one time I don’t hear the dreaded “No running in the house” rule.  

We also play “Find” where Mom hides my ball around the house and I have to find it. A cousin of this is when she scatters a few treats around the house and I use my nose like a vacuum cleaner to locate and eat them. Other times, Mom lies in bed and hides my ball underneath the covers.  She really likes this game, I am not sure why. Sometimes, she tries to hide from me, herself, but she can never get far enough away to hide very well, I always find her in one minute.

Mom likes to torture me by putting my ball underneath an upside down laundry basket or in my toy rubber cage and I have to figure out how to get it out. I think this game should be banned along with the stupid game where she puts toys in the middle of the floor, says a name, and I have to go pick out which one she says.

I like agility and swimming and tetherball and singing with Mom, but I will tell those stories another time. But I do have to say that I learned how to play with Kong  last week. Kong is a fat red rubber thing with a hole in his belly. Mom puts little cookies down inside Kong and I have to beat him up and throw him around to make the cookies come out. I think this game is very instwukshunal.  That means it teaches me many things and we should play it at least ten times a day.

Where I Talk About Playing Ball

One of my most favorite things to do in the world is to play ball. Believe it or not, I am not sure Mom ever played ball before I came, but I have taught her how to play, and now I believe she loves it, too! Oh sure, she jokes with me sometimes about it. When I beg her to come out and play in the yard and its 98 degrees and the skitas are biting or when there’s snow on the ground and the wind is so cold it freezes your patooties off, she’ll tell me I’m crazy if I think for one minute she's going to come outside and play. But she does come out, more often than not, even when it’s dark outside and she stumbles around the yard because she can't see too good.  She’ll say “You’re killing me, Newlie,” but I know she doesn’t mean it. Honestly, if she really and truly didn’t like to play ball, she wouldn’t come out, would she? Mom says it’s not the ball she loves, but I don’t know what she means.

Mom is actually a terrible thrower. She is so bad that I think sometimes she must have some kind of birth defect. I tell you, when she throws the ball it never goes more than two feet away from her and never in the direction that she means for it to go. Early on, Dad told her to use an old tennis racket that was down in the basement and that has worked out fine. She can hit pretty good with it, from the front to the back of the yard, and our yard is nice and big. Mom likes to hit balls from corner to corner so that I get a work-out running back and forth across the yard. She has to stay very still, though, when this is going on, otherwise she will get mowed down by a hairy, 85 pound freight train. I like to fake her out, too, and start running for the corner where I think she is going to hit next. Sometimes I get there before she hits the ball and that’s a bummer. But I really love it when she hits a line drive and I jump up and catch it in my mouth! Mom always yells “Good boy!” when I do that and then starts muttering about how much it will cost to have a dentist fix my teeth.

Mom bought me a ball machine way back when I first came here, but it might be dead now. She used to use it sometimes as a change from hitting the ball with the racket. The way it works is that you put balls in a basket thing and then they roll down to the bottom and pop out. You can hear a little noise when it’s getting ready to go off and then Bam, it shoots the ball out into the yard. Mom actually hits it farther than the ball machine, but there is something so exciting about watching it pop out, hearing that little noise and waiting for it to fire. Sometimes, I couldn’t wait and would try to grab it away from the machine and then Mom would fuss and tell me that I was going to get my eyes put out if I wasn’t careful. Moms are awful silly sometimes.

Where I Learn to Face New Challenges

Now that the holidays are over, we can finally get back to talking about some of my other adventures. When I was still seeing Jerry-the-trainer, Mom had the idea that she was going to try to teach me how to pull a cart. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but in my usual easy-going manner (Mom snorted!) I told her that I would give it a try. Mom first put a harness on me and used a piece of rope to tie an empty gallon plastic bottle behind me. We walked up and down and up and down the street with me dragging the stupid thing, and although every dog in the neighborhood thought I was a big dork, nothing else happened. Mom was worried because she had read in a book that sometimes dogs think they are being chased, but here’s the million dollar question….Why would I be afraid of a plastic bottle, even if it was chasing me? It’s a shame that people think we are such wienies.

So, from there I graduated to two empty plastic gallon bottles (double-dork) and then Mom over time started filling first one bottle, then the other, with water.  Then, she upgraded me to pulling a tire. These activities made so much noise and became such show that the neighborhood dog association began talking about selling tickets. So, anyways, the next time Mom took me to see Jerry, I noticed that he was fooling around with my harness and connecting something, but it wasn’t until he tugged on my leash that I realized there was a big metal devil thing with wheels running after me and I started spazzing out and crying “SAVE ME, MOM, SAVE ME!” Jerry and Mom moved very fast and got the devil thing off me. Then, they let me calm down as I was very shaken up. I thought about asking for a doggie Xanax, but then decided that a nice hamburger might be a better idea.

After a bit, Jerry and Mom told me the metal thing wasn’t a devil but a cart. They put it back on me again, and though I didn’t like it, I only looked back at it every thirty seconds or so. Jerry whispered something to Mom and she went in front of me and started walking and calling my name. I didn’t have time to pay much attention to the cart after that because I was too busy trying to keep up with Mom. Me and the devil cart chased her all around the yard several times. We would have caught her, too, but the devil cart had a tree stump riding on his back, so he was very heavy to pull. In the interest of fairness, I am going to suggest next time that Mom carry a tree stump, too!

At the end of my eight week basic training with Jerry, he decided to give me something really hard for my final exam. He had Mom put me in a “down-stay” and then brought several of his own dogs out in the yard and put them in a down-stay, too, right next to me. That was hard enough, but then he opened the gate to his yard and in walked a rooster and a couple of chickens!  You could have knocked me over with a feather and Mom, too!  I heard her say under her breath, “Oh God, here comes a bloodbath.”  The chickens and rooster clucked and waddled through the yard, but all of us dogs pretty much maintained our position. One or the other of us would start to get up at different times and Mom or Jerry would say “No” and we would lie back down. So I got a big A+ on my final exam and Mom was very proud! Here is a picture in case you think I am telling a big fib.

Where I Develop the Christmas Spirit!!!

Well, I didn’t think I was going to like Christmas and I‘ll tell you why. First of all, Mom kept leaving me at home to do something called shopping. (I would like to bite shopping.)She would leave me at the door telling me that she would be “right back” and come waltzing back in thirty-two years later carrying a bunch of bags in her hands. Also, there were other times when she had to go to something called Christmas parties. I would be mad the whole time she was gone and would plan to wear my evil wolf face when she came through the door, but I was always so happy she was home that I would forget.

Then, Mom got the creepy idea to plant a tree in our house. I am not exactly sure how, but someway this tree was strangely connected to the Santa creature.  It had spooky little lights on it and did not smell like any tree I have ever been around, and believe you me, I have been around quite a few. As if that weren’t enough, she proceeded to hang red and silver balls all over it. Now, as every dog knows, part of our job is to seek, gather and control all balls in our house and yard as well as any within reach.  Humans honestly don’t seem to understand how seriously we take this responsibility. Balls are incredibly fast and sneaky. They fly through the air, they bounce, they race along the ground and worst of all, they try to hide from us. A couple of times, I tried to grab the red and silver balls off the tree-but-not- tree so I could herd the pesky things and then Mom would shake her finger at me! She will be sorry one day when they start to run riot all over the house.

I have already told you about having to pose with the red velvet monster, but there were lots of other Christmas irritations. Mom kept spraying something, she said it was apples and cimanim, and I would spend hours trying to find where the pie was hiding. She played that awful Christmas music till I was ready to stick marshmallows in my ears. And I got awful tired of being good so that Santa Claws would come and see me!

Mom said we were going to celebrate our own family Christmas one night as we always do it a little late. For my supper, I got a can of Merrick’s “Grammy Pot Pie” which was very tasty although I was little bitter about the fact that Mom and Dad were having steak. They also ate carrots and little bushes with a name that sounds like bwoklie which had zero appeal to me. While Mom and Dad were eating, I caught a whiff or two of something interesting that smelled like it was coming from under the imposter tree. There were three paper things lying there that I knew I must have immediately. I jumped up to sniff more closely, but Mom told me to “leave it” and lie down. I did what she said but then something made me jump up again. She had her eye on me, though, and told me to lie down again and "wait.”

After they finished eating, Mom told me that the paper things were presents for me (!!!!) and got down one of them so I could open it. I tried very hard, but at first I had trouble given the simple fact that, you know, I HAVE NO THUMBS!  Finally, Mom got it started for me and away I went. The first one was a yummy rubber chicken, but it unfortunately died quickly after I accidentally chewed its head off.  The second one was a green lizard with a little piece of something sticking out of its mouth. I tried to help the lizard by pulling at it, but the more I pulled, the more stuff came out. Mom thought it was very funny, but to me it was yucky. What was that stuff and where would it all end? Well, the lizard finally died as, without knowing it, I was actually pulling his guts out. I am very sorry, lizard and chicken! My third present was a rubber ball which I love and so far, it is still alive. After all this, Mom gave me a “Frosty Paws” ice-cream for a treat! What a day!  I think I like Christmas after all!

Where I am Manhandled by a Fat Man in a Red Suit!

My latest adventure started with the fateful words “We’ve got to get ready, I’m going to take you to get your picture taken with Santa.”  The first thing I did after Mom said that that was to jump, run in little circles and whine. That’s pretty much normal for me when I hear we are going bye-bye in the car. Then, she started cleaning me up, brushing my coat and wiping the boogies out of my eyes all of which takes 500 years when all I want to do is GO. Mom told me to calm down and then went down to the basement with me hot on heels. She opened Max-the angel dog’s tub and took out a soft, red jingle-bell collar that she put on me, a toy hamburger that was to die for, and a set of furry pointy sticks connected by a headband. This last item gave me pause as in my experience, headbands never lead to anything good. Mom called these furry sticks “antlers” and I felt very uneasy when I saw her put them in her purse. It was only when I was walking out to the car that I thought “What the heck is a Santa?”

I soon found out. We went up to Feeders where there were about a million other dogs and their people waiting in line. As we walked through the store, Mom refused to let me wipe out all the other nasty smells by saying “No tinkle” every other second. She signed some papers at a desk and then we went to wait in line like everybody else. I wanted to remain standing as a couple of knuckleheads kept trying to challenge me, but she made me lie down and that ticked me off. When they called our name, Mom took me up and gave my leash into the hand of some weird looking fat man in a red velvet suit. Heck, even I know that normal human males don’t wear red velvet. Mom turned and started to walk away, yes that’s right, leaving me with this freak-o-saris  who had possible dog killer written all over him. After all, that red color may have come from the blood of my innocent, but pea-brained kin. I tried to run after her, but he grabbed my collar and for a minute I thought I had met my doom. A minute later, I wished I had. Mom stopped and picked up her purse, then whipped out the antler sticks and planted them on my head. Another guy took a picture of me (O, the humiliation!) and while Mom was looking at it, I saw a couple of frou-frou dogs laughing at me behind their paws. I flashed them a tooth, though, when Mom wasn’t looking and you can bet that wiped the grin off their faces pretty quick. Mom asked the guy to take another picture of me without the antler sticks to see if she liked it any better. But I was done, I’d had enough! I was supposed to get to see a Santa and I never did, it was all a big trick! So I decided right then and there to close my eyes so the camera couldn’t see me. That should teach Mom and all of them a big lesson!

                                                                 

 

                                                                   

Where I become Possessed and Almost Lose My Home

Now comes the worst part………..When I last left you, things were looking up after our first session with Jerry-the-trainer. That following week, though, things went from bad to worse and I was a very bad boy. The only thing I can figure is that I must have been possessed by Eilwen, a demon German Shepherd puppy. (If you listen to his name backwards, it sounds like Newlie.) My head didn’t spin around or anything like you see in the movies and my eyes didn’t turn red, but all the other signs point to it. I wouldn’t listen, I growled at Mom and Dad a couple of times and I chewed on Dad’s big toe. I would block his way every time he tried to walk down the hall and the more he yelled at me to move out of the way, the more I barked. I got in arguments with the dogs on either side of me and took bites out of Mom’s pillows and her mattress and I chewed up her laundry basket.

Finally, Mom started crying one day and left a message for Jerry-the trainer to call her. Then, she talked to my doctor and said that she was at her wit’s end, that she couldn’t have me acting up and scaring Dad with him being sick and all. She wrote on the computer to the rescue people and said that she might not be able to keep me and they said they would take me back if that’s what she and Dad wanted. And all this time, she was crying and crying. When Jerry-the trainer called back, Mom told him everything and said she was heartbroken, but she didn’t see what else she could do. Jerry said for her to bring me over to his house the next day. He said he would step up our training and that he thought he could fix things so she didn’t have to lose me.

The next training class was rough. Jerry had Mom put me in a “sit” and then I had to stay in that position for about 32 days. Whenever I broke the “stay,” the bug would bite my neck, Mom would take me back to the same spot and make me sit again and Jerry would tell her not to be nice about it either. Then we did the same thing with “down-stay.” After that, we did some more walking on the leash and more agility. I tell you, I was one tired puppy when we left Jerry’s house that night. It is very hard for dogs to learn to be still and to do what someone else tells them regardless of what they want to do and that’s especially true if they are possessed! This training class went a long way toward driving Eilwen out of me and looking back, I am glad no one tried to use a stake or a silver bullet.
                                                               

Me staying for 32 days

Mom had also been reading a German Shepherd Forum site on the computer. It talked about a training program called “Nothing in Life is Free.” and it really is pretty simple. In a nutshell, the dog has to do something to get anything. Mom had always made me Sit and wait till she said OK before I could eat. Now, I had to sit and wait before each handful of dog food. If I wanted to go outside, I had to sit and wait. If I wanted a cookie, I had to sit and wait. In fact, I did so much sitting while this was going on, I almost got a blister on my bee-hind.

Mom stopped playing with me in the house, too, for a while because it got me too excited. She thought I needed to learn that jumping and running and roughhousing were for outside and inside was for quieter things, like chewing on my ball or chewing on my ball. (That is about the only thing I really like to do that doesn’t involve running, jumping and roughhousing.) We did graduate along the way where now I can play games in the house like Find where Mom hides my ball and I have to find it. Or she will put four or five toys in the floor and say a word and I have to go and get the toy she named. I think this is a sucky game but she likes it.

Anyways, we went to Jerry’s house more times after this and we learned more things. I am a different dog now and Mom is different, too. She has learned how to make her voice deep and loud when I am not listening enough to her. She will sometimes come and stand over me and try to make her shoulders big so that I get the point that she is the boss. She will also make the bug bite my neck and if that doesn’t work, will swat at me if I am really, really bad. Despite the fact I am stronger than her and could do terrible damage with my fangs, Mom is not afraid of me any more than most moms are afraid of their children. She rules by the force of love, not muscle. 

Where I Meet Jerry-The-Trainer at Unleashed Pawtential

Well, I have to admit I didn’t know what to make of Jerry-the-trainer at first. When Mom told me we were going to some training classes, I thought I would be sitting on the sideline giving little woofs of approval when she did something good, but nothing turned out quite like I expected. When we arrived at his house and we had all smelled each other over good, Jerry took my harness off and made me put a spikey collar on my neck. I didn’t want to, but Jerry made me put it on anyway. After it was on, though, I changed my mind because it did make me look like a dog not to be messed with. Later, I asked Mom about getting some tattoos, but she wouldn’t go for the idea.

Then, Mom and Jerry blabbed for a while, all about guess who. She had me show him some of the commands I knew, told him about my bad boy history and went over some of the different things she had tried. She also told him she was concerned about my attitude toward other dogs. He went in the house and came back out with a dog even bigger than me (I know, can you believe it?), a Dane called RD, so that he could see how I would react. Jerry later told Mom that he thought I was young and goofy and probably hadn’t been around other dogs too much, but he didn’t see me as aggressive.

Then, he said “Lets go down the street here to work” so he walked and RD paced and I trotted dragging Mom along behind me at a run. We got to this great big parking lot with grass around it and Jerry hooked on a long, long leash and walked me around. It was weird, though, because every time I got the idea to go off on my own, some big bug would bite or pinch my neck. Then, Jerry had Mom walk me around and believe it or not, the same thing happened! She must have had a smaller bug, though, because it was a smaller pinch. Mom stopped and looked upset the first time or two that I yelped when she was walking me, but Jerry just said to go on walking. He said actions have consequences for dogs just like they do for people.  He said that German Shepherds were just about the smartest of dog breeds (I knew it!) but that our intelligence could be a two-edged sword and a bunch of other stuff that I didn’t understand. Jerry told Mom to make me move out of the way when she walked toward me, not to go around, but go through me if she had to. We must have walked around for about 10 hours before we stopped, but I did learn two things. First, if I stayed close to whoever was walking me, the bug didn’t pinch my neck and second, it is a far, far better thing to move out of the way than to let your toe accidently get stepped on…YOUCH!

Mom mentioned to Jerry about how I had gotten kicked out of doggy daycare and that she had hoped one day to be able to take me to a dog park. Jerry said he wasn’t all that crazy about either idea because of the dangers of dog fights/ attacks and dogs getting sick from stuff they caught from other dogs. But he said things generally worked out OK for golden retrievers, labs and the like, but he didn’t think it was the place for shepherds like me. He said we were working dogs and that we generally wanted to be with humans, not so much with other animals. I think Mom was a little disappointed, but I gave him a high paw for that.

Finally, we went back to Jerry’s yard where he had some of that agility equipment like they had at obedience class, only his was huge. The first time he asked me to jump over one of those big fences I wanted to ask him if he was crazy. But that was actually nothing compared to climbing those mountains in his yard and walking over skinny boards with holes in them. I thought for sure I was a dead dog, but guess what? I did it! Jerry said I was a good boy and rubbed my fur and I decided right then and there that he was my new best friend.