Copyrighted Material
Finally Home-Lessons on Life from a Free-Spirited Dog
Published by Elizabeth Parker at Smashwords
Copyrighted © 2010 Elizabeth Parker
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Real names have been changed or omitted in order to protect the individual’s privacy.
This book is not meant as a training manual, nor is it meant to advise on how to train your dog. Please follow the instructions of a professional dog trainer. Also, please check with your veterinarian before administering any drugs, food, snacks or drinks to your dog that are mentioned in this book.
Second Edition
To order this book or if you have any questions or comments, please visit us at www.elizabethparkerbooks.com
A portion of the proceeds from the sales of this book will be donated to an animal rescue group.
Author’s Note:
Please note that this book is not meant to be utilized as a training manual, nor is it meant to advise on how to train any dog. Please follow the instructions of a professional dog trainer if you are seeking assistance, as the dog-training conventions used in this book may not be suitable for other dogs. In addition, please check with your veterinarian before administering any drugs, food, snacks or drinks to your dog that are mentioned in this book. Thank you.
Thank you to my husband for having the courage to adopt Buddy and the patience to deal with his goofy antics. Special thanks for all of your support and advice while I wrote this. You’re a great Daddy to the pups and we are lucky to have you in our lives.
To Buddy, Brandi and Toffee- Thanks for being such special, lovable and funny dogs. I’m looking forward to some more funny adventures with you and your Dad!
Thank you to my editor, Michael Simon, for spending so many grueling hours going through this story and pointing out my errors and inconsistencies.
“…My first encounter with Buddy was at a festive New Years Eve party: I was dressed in my best outfit purchased specifically for this occasion while enjoying a delicious, freshly-mixed cocktail of vodka, cranberry and lots of ice. While involved in typical party conversation, I was not really focusing on anything else in the room around me, nor did I think it was necessary. I have to admit I did see him out of the corner of my eye, but it was just too late. I didn’t think he would actually do it, but there it was-that look in his eye and all too satisfying smirk on his face. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I tried to move out of the way, but it all happened way too fast. I went from standing up enjoying a drink and remarkable conversation, to having my mid-section pummeled by this giant ball of fur. He already had my free hand in his mouth pulling me down, tail wagging one hundred miles per hour and I was now wearing my delicious drink on my brand new clothes. Before I could gain my composure, Buddy was already off to the next victim…”
-- (co-worker, upon first meeting Buddy)
There is a time in everyone’s life where they have been emotionally inspired or amazed by something that was completely unexpected or even considered impossible. Sometimes it is so touching, that they want to share their experience with the world and tell their story.
This particular story is about a precious heart along with a free-spirited little boy who owns that heart. This little boy has expressive brown eyes, a beautiful smile, and golden brown coat that he never takes off. He also has a huge pinkish-brown nose and four very fast legs. His name is Buddy. He answers to that…when he wants to.
Chapter 1-Summer of ‘99
Each plan in life is derived from a single idea. Some ideas start in the least expected of places during the least likely of times. When an idea snowballs and takes on a life of its own; that is when it becomes a reality.
I guess you can say it all started when I was working at a sunglass manufacturer as an Electronic Data Interchange Specialist. (This is just a fancy title for someone who monitors the electronic transactions between the manufacturer and retail stores). This was a fun job, one where you did not need to dress up in uncomfortable business attire, the salary was not great, but it was respectable. The people were fun, the bosses were decent, the office was clean and for the most part, it was a fairly good job. It was here where I met my husband, Michael; we began dating approximately two years after I started my employment there (in the summer of 1999). It was the typical story of two goofy twenty-something year olds with the same wise-ass mentality, sharing many of the same principles, views on life and in Michael’s words (or pick-up line), we were both half-orphans. He had lost his Mom to breast cancer while he was at the tender age of four. I had lost my Dad shortly after I had turned nine from a job-related illness.
In the year 2000, after working at this company for three years, I decided to make a drastic change and start looking for a new occupation. Although I loved the job and the line of work I was in, there were rumors circulating that our office was in the midst of closing down and I figured I had better be prepared and search for something just in case.
After reading the classifieds and modifying my resumé and cover letter over fifty times, I got a job working as a semi-producer (if there is such a thing) for a popular local news station’s weekend program. Even though the decision was a bit scary at first, I had reluctantly given my resignation letter to my previous employer, said my good-bye’s and started my journey on my new career path.
After just four short months, as I started to get acclimated and understand all aspects of the job including the software, technology, procedures, office politics, etc., I found out that this job was closing its doors as well! Needless to say, I was beginning to get a bit of a complex. I noticed a pattern and figured this time I should do a little more intense research before moving on to my next area of employment. Subsequent to sitting at my computer and looking through tons of ads, I finally sent my resumé to what I felt was going to be a decent and stable employer. I looked them up on the Internet, thoroughly read their website and thought I had plenty of detail to support my belief. They had been in business for over twenty years, had offices scattered around the country and I did not see any red flags. After interviewing with half of the people in the technology department and multiple visits to their office, I was finally offered the job and was scheduled to start a little later that summer. It was about time!
It was during these various job transitions that Michael and I were growing a bit closer in our relationship and discussing the possibility of living together. I was still residing at my mother’s house, however, and he had owned his own home.
After some lengthy conversation, we also started toying with the idea of adopting a dog, more specifically a golden retriever, as we both loved their friendly, amusing temperament, but would just take quick browses through puppy stores and basically walk out. We were, after all, only toying with the idea. We were not even living together yet.
During that same time period, at my new job, a co-worker of mine was making conversation and coincidentally asked me if I knew anyone who wanted a dog. I wanted to raise my hand, jump up and down and scream out “Um, yea, me!” I somehow refrained from doing that, but instead tried to act sort of cool and disinterested without too much enthusiasm. Of course, I couldn’t leave without asking some information about the dog. The questions that followed and their relative answers should tell the entire story. “What kind of dog is it?” “Ah, how old?” “Hmm, why are they getting rid of it?” “Boy or girl?” “Does it bite?” “Is it housebroken?” “Hey…what is the dog’s name?”
He was not really too sure of the specifics at that precise point in time, and probably did not realize he was talking to an obsessed dog fanatic, but he said he would speak to his friend and find out more detailed information for me. He did give me a brief synopsis regarding his first encounter with Buddy at a party his friends had thrown, (described in the quote at the beginning of this book).
I got a surge of excitement about the idea and then quickly calmed myself down, went back to my desk, tried to keep my mind focused on work and really did not think much more of it until I went home later that evening.
That night, during dinner, I spoke to my future husband and mentioned the conversation that I had with my co-worker, with no real intention of going to meet this dog. I did, however, have my co-worker’s phone number just in case. I did not really think we would entertain the idea as we already had so much going on in our lives already.
“Why not?” we decided. Let’s just find out more about him. There is no harm in just finding out some information, is there? So, after we cleaned the dishes and put them in their allotted places in the cupboard, we called him that same night. He was actually going to be visiting this same friend’s house anyway and figured we would probably be able to get all of the answers that we needed about the dog. We were still just in the research stage and had no real plans of adopting. A dog could live as long as eighteen years (or longer in rare occasions), and is definitely a strong commitment. We just were not entirely sure if we were ready for the long-haul responsibility of taking care of something for years to come.
We called anyhow, just out of curiosity and asked all of the relevant questions. We found out it was a purebred golden retriever. Coincidentally, this was just the breed we were seeking. Both my cousin and a friend of ours owned this type of puppy and we absolutely loved it. From both parties, we knew that the breed seemed to be best known for their well-behaved and friendly temperament, in addition to their beautiful, golden coat and communicative eyes. This particular one was about a year and a half years old; male. He was up to date on his shots, neutered, housebroken and did not bite. “His name…is Buddy.”
Buddy. We had to see him. Even just to play with him for a little while. Why would anyone give him up? There has got to be something else going on. This was really too good to be true. No one in their right mind would just voluntarily give up a beautiful, young golden retriever. We made plans to go see him over the upcoming weekend.
That Sunday we woke up early as we normally did, stopped for some breakfast at the town diner down the block and made our way to the dog owner’s home in Long Island to meet the infamous pup. We pulled up to a beautiful, large Victorian house with a circular driveway on a tree-lined cul-de-sac. Two young children happily answered the door and their mom trailed promptly behind them. We introduced ourselves and explained that we were there to meet the pup. The mother seemed friendly enough as she led us down the stairs to the secluded basement where we would soon find out was Buddy’s only room. As we descended, we immediately noticed Buddy in the corner by himself quietly minding his own business and chewing on his rawhide bone. That is, until he perked his ears up, looked toward the stairs with his adorable eyes and noticed us walking toward him.
Have you ever been in the ocean when the waves were so high you could not keep afloat and it seemed like every time you caught your breath…another wave came to knock you over? If so, this is the best way I could describe Buddy’s first reaction to us.
With his rawhide bone in his mouth, he started barking as he saw us, ran to us and jumped on us like he never saw people before. For those of you who know that golden retriever smile, it was broader than I have ever seen. He would keep tossing the bone up in the air a little bit, not quite letting go, but not quite wanting to hold it. He was indecisive about whether he should keep his bone or bark…so balancing the bone between his teeth, he did both. He was absolutely overjoyed.
We still could not understand why these people were getting rid of this bundle of love. His tail was wagging a million miles an hour and was just completely in his element. All this dog wanted to do was love and be loved. It was written all over his furry face. He was absolutely beautiful. He got this tone in his voice that was not quite a cry, not truly a bark, but it was something in between. With his bone in his mouth, he uttered a noise I had never heard before, which would soon become known as his trademark “Buddy” bark. To describe it would be somewhat ridiculous, and I am certain spell check will not like it, but I will certainly give it a whirl. It went somewhat like “a woo woo woo woooo wooooooooooo,” the last carrying a somewhat higher, more intense, uneven pitch than the others.
As the owner struggled to control Buddy, she clumsily attached his chewed up leather leash to his collar and started to give us some background on him. She explained that they tried to surrender him to Golden Retriever Rescue, but there was an extremely long waiting list for that and there was no room yet there for Buddy. She was already his second…and then third owner. His first owner gave him up because he was way too big for a small apartment. The current owners had also then given him up to someone who promptly returned him a day later claiming they could not handle him and “good luck!”
If we did take him, we would essentially be his fourth owners. “If” being the operative word. If we did not take him, they were going to put him in a shelter. They did do the right thing by trying to find him a good home but unfortunately, had no luck in doing so. He was getting too difficult to manage and they were ready to be done with him. It was the usual sad unwanted puppy dog story; his time was essentially running out. Different shelters follow different rules, but there are some kill shelters that give the dog a certain period of time until they get adopted. If they go over that time period, they are put to sleep. There are just too many stray dogs and not enough facilities or financial means to accommodate all of them.
We, of course, needed to find out what the catch was. He must bite and they are just not telling us. Or maybe he has some medical condition in which they just did not feel like disclosing to us. He looked healthy and seemed like a normal, yet overly energetic year and half old pup. He did not appear to be vicious, though some dogs tend to show their vicious tendencies under different circumstances.
We asked some more specific questions, such as how he was with kids, dogs, men, women, etc. To all questions, she answered pretty much the same thing. “He was fine, never had a vicious episode, just a bit hyper.” We asked how he was on walks and in the car to which she answered that she did not know as they never really got the chance to take him for either. He was let out in their backyard, but did not get to run around at all because it was not fenced in. He was basically walked back there on a leash to do his business and then put back in the lonely, dark basement. After questioning her on the personality of this dog and wondering what his main issue was for a few minutes, we were still not seeing the entire picture, so we pressed on a little more to reveal the unsolved mystery. He was definitely an excitable dog, but we figured it was just because he was happy to see new people.
She simply explained they were giving him up because her and her husband worked long hours. It was difficult to entertain this dog after a long work day. Also, he chews a lot and jumps a lot. “He jumps on the kids. He jumps on company. He knows his commands, but does not obey them. He eats things that he should not be eating.” They came across him eating the children’s building blocks and crayons and they were not really sure what else. He was a little wild and a lot out of control so they had him on medication to calm him down…sort of like a puppy Prozac. He was a year and a half, still more or less a puppy. It was all starting to come together. A puppy locked in the basement for twelve hours each day without any chance to run free has unreleased energy. Hmm, wouldn’t you act the same way?
We were there long enough to take notice in their futile attempt at training techniques. When he jumped, they gave him a treat to get him down. When he mouthed us or anything else, they gave him a treat to remove his mouth. We noticed an immediate pattern. The owners did what they thought was right in getting Buddy to behave. What they did not count on was that this dog was highly intelligent and realized just what to do to get a treat. Knowing this, he did the things he got rewarded for doing; good or bad.
Many unsuspecting owners might have done the same thing. It is a common mistake and it happens all too often. You really can’t fault someone if they are not used to dealing with a really smart dog. (At least that’s what I keep telling myself)! The problem is that with an intelligent dog, they easily learn how to manipulate any situation to get what they want. The hard truth is that your dog is the way it is because you actually trained it to be that way. Most people can’t accept this fact, but it is true. If you have a dog since it was a puppy, you are the only master, aside from its birth mother, that the dog has ever known.
This was unquestionably the case with Buddy. Buddy got treats whenever he wanted, and he also associated doing these bad behaviors with getting his treats! He was not necessarily a “bad” dog. He was just doing what he learned and what he interpreted in his little intelligent mind to be “good” things.
After a few more enjoyable moments of sitting on the cold floor with this charming, playful pup, we thanked the couple for allowing us to visit with Buddy and went on our way. Covered in dog hair and a good portion of doggy drool, we walked up the stairs and out of the house into the frigid December air. Buddy was still jumping on and clinging to us on our way out. We could still hear his desperate barking as the door closed behind us. I was thinking “No way.” There was no way we would be able to accommodate the needs of this crazy, disobedient dog. I was already onto my next thought of what to do for the remainder of the day, not even thinking that adopting him was a remote possibility.
When we reached the bottom of the driveway, I playfully posed the question to Michael. I really just wanted to gauge his reaction and wholeheartedly expected him to laugh. “So, what do you think?” His answer, however, was the complete opposite of what I was expecting. “Absolutely, let’s adopt him.”
When I heard his response, I sort of got a bit lightheaded and automatically started to have a little lack of confidence in my dog training ability. To say I was stunned is an understatement. I was never predicting that to be his answer and still kind of just looked at Michael to try and read him and see if he was serious. Why was he even joking like this? I love all dogs, regardless of breed but Michael had never owned a dog. I thought this one would be a complete turn off. I envisioned Michael’s “starter dog” to be somewhat calm, well behaved and easy to manage. Instead, his reply was “Let’s call them first thing tomorrow and say we will take him.”
While I was, of course, absolutely thrilled with the idea, I still had my doubts that I would personally be able to handle such a crazed animal. Growing up, we had many family dogs, but I was the youngest in the family and never really spent time training them. They just sort of always seemed trained. I usually just spent time playing with them. I never really questioned it. This would be my first real test at responsibility. We would have to figure out how to train him. He would not just “magically” be trained. Was I up for the proposed challenge? Was Michael?
Still in awe, and feeling mixed emotions of both joy and trepidation, I made the phone call once we got home and with a little shakiness in my voice said that we would happily adopt Buddy. We made our plans to pick him up on Thursday evening after work. I could not figure out why, but I was nervous all week and could not wait to get him. I felt like I was expecting a baby, albeit an eighty pound baby with lots of fur, but a baby nonetheless. I was also extremely happy. I don’t think I slept all week!
I remember stopping at a local pet store prior to getting him and walked up and down the aisles in sort of a cosmic daze. Not really knowing what he liked, I picked up a small bag of food, a variety of treats, stuffed animals and various squeaky toys of different shapes and sizes. I really could not concentrate all week in anticipation of adopting this crazed pup.
We cleaned the entire house and doggy-proofed it the best that we could. We had it all meticulously planned out. Michael, his niece and I were going to take two cars. Michael would drive his home with the crate and all of Buddy’s belongings. Michael’s niece and I were to drive home with Buddy. We would then have a few quality hours during the night to spend with him. What do they say about the best thought out plans?
Chapter 2-Thursday December 21st, 2000.
The shortest day of the year. The official Winter Solstice. The longest drive home. The day Michael and I officially became insane.
We arrived at the house and the actual owners were surprisingly not home but one of their relatives was there waiting for us. She was very kind and gave us all of Buddy’s toys, food, treats, his blanket and his crate at no charge. She went over his feeding schedule with us as well as the commands that he knew. She showed us his veterinary papers proving he was up to date on all of his shots and gave us some other papers, including the name of his breeder, his first owner, the toys he likes and other random information. This dog probably cost them close to $1,000 (if not more) as he was from a breeder, but yet they were giving him to us for free, along with all of his belongings.
We asked if she would like us to wait for the owners and their kids to say goodbye to him. Her answer was pretty firm, “No, Buddy probably would not even recognize them to say goodbye.” We kind of just stared at her for a minute or two in disbelief. We then caught on and got the idea. This family was just happy to be rid of him. We found it a bit disheartening that his own family would not say goodbye, even the kids, and our hearts immediately went out to him. We had said our brief goodbyes, received some hand-written instructions, a few more veterinary papers…and Buddy. I do commend them for endlessly searching for a home for him and making sure his health was not neglected in the interim. Some people have been known to dump their unwanted dog in some remote area, left by themselves to fend for food, shelter and protection, or even worse.
As we ascended the basement stairs en route to the car, Buddy did not seem to have a care that he was leaving. All of this seemed to be a good time to him…or maybe he just knew something that we did not.
I had owned many dogs growing up so I was quite used to driving with them in the car. This was not going to be any different, or at least that is what I had thought. I never really contemplated it until I actually made my first attempt to drive.
I had made it approximately fifteen feet when I was forced to stop my car right there in the middle of the road. Michael stopped next to me in his car and was curiously looking at me trying to figure out why in the world I would just stop. That is, of course, until he noticed the eighty pound dog with his paws wrapped around my neck from the back. I simply could not move. The only choice I had was to stop. I could not even turn the steering wheel. Buddy was so excited he was jumping back and forth from the back seat into the front seat, onto our laps, and of course, he wrapped his two front paws around my neck giving me the biggest bear hug he could muster. Lesson learned: Do not ever doubt the strength of golden retrievers.
With that, once we peeled Buddy’s huge paws from my neck, we had to resort to an unplanned, but very necessary Plan B. Michael had to park his car and come into the back seat of mine to control Buddy. This is where we learned that the words “control” and “Buddy” were never to be used in the same sentence again. It would just never work out that way. These were just the first few of many lessons learned by owning an overly rambunctious, highly intelligent eighty pound golden retriever. I was slowly starting to understand the very reason it was not easy to place this dog in any sane home. I suppose people that were in their right minds recognized that this dog was insane!
That was our initial thought as well. Our second thought was, “Hey, let’s just put him back in their backyard and take off. They will notice he is there sometime tonight and they can go back to the tedious job of finding him a home.” We sort of sat there and stared at each other trying to read each other’s thoughts, while dreadfully listening to Buddy’s excited panting as he jumped from seat to seat, from person to person. After ridiculously toying with the idea, we decided against it. Though, make no mistake, we still had our doubts.
The ride home was not enjoyable one bit. Emotions were flying high consisting of anxiety, lack of common sense, dread and a severe sense of regret. We lived about twenty to thirty minutes from Bud’s old home. Basically, on an average day after rush hour, you could jump on the expressway and drive about 55-60 mph. I think I broke every traffic law that night and made it home in about twelve minutes.
The last thing I remember about that wearisome car ride was that my soon to be husband was literally wearing Buddy as a fur hat. He had managed to climb on top of Michael’s head so all that I can see in my rearview mirror was this pup’s enormous body. I could barely make out Michael underneath all of that golden fur. I only knew Michael was back there because I kept hearing him yell “drive faster!”
The only possible chance of making it home alive was to give Buddy treats, following the destructive pattern that had been the foundation for Buddy’s bad behavior. We gave him an entire jar of treats in those seemingly-long twelve minutes. I truly believe that Buddy was just testing us to see how long it would take us to emotionally break down.
It was an exhausting night to say the least. We still had to drive back and get Buddy’s crate. There was no way we were able to let this pup roam free at his leisure on his first night. I ventured back out into the cold December night to get his crate, while Michael and his niece made their first daring attempt at training Bud.
Chapter 3-A New Life
Being a hero to someone, even if it is a dog, is a feeling like no other. Though it can be frustrating, it is more rewarding to give someone a second chance at a happy life.
On his first night with us, Bud ran through the house at record speed. He was definitely housebroken which was a benefit to us, but at this point, we were convinced this dog never slept or even napped for that matter! He had a highly excessive amount of energy. Friendly as can be, but with what seemed to be a trampoline attached to the pads of his huge feet, he would get into everything. I have never experienced a dog jumping and frolicking as much as he did. He, of course, wanted to explore every corner of our house and we really did not mind that, but he was acting insane! We figured he was just excited and that after a few more minutes of exploring, he would calm down.
We figured wrong. After a few arduous hours of trying to keep up with him, he was not even close to relenting, but we had no choice but to go to sleep. Our dialog was no longer making any sense and our eyes were already closing as we robotically walked up the staircase. We put him in his old, broken-down silver crate with his own torn up blankets and a bunch of his toys and hoped for the best. Any time we would go check on him, he was wide awake. It might have been three days that had passed before we noticed that he even closed his eyes for more than just a blink.
We decided one of the first things we were going to do was take him off of the “calming” medicine that he was taking. We promptly flushed the remaining three bottles down the toilet. We were not going to have a healthy, active puppy on downers. There was just no way; we would rather take our chances. As crazy as he was, he wasn’t sick; there was no reason for his personality to be altered by drugs. They really did not seem to do anything to help calm him down anyway, so what was the point? We would make this work out no matter what. At least that is what we kept telling ourselves!
Christmas was literally around the corner, in four days to be exact, and we were definitely looking forward to it. It was both exciting and fun to celebrate this new addition to our family. Underneath the Christmas tree were a wide variety of toys, ranging from chew toys to stuffed animals, tennis balls to bones, squeaky toys to Buster Cubes, and everything in between. He had his own toy chest within a few days. On Christmas day we locked him in a room for a few minutes and set each toy (wrapped, of course) in the middle of the room. You would have thought we had ten kids by the look of it.
When all of the toys were perfectly arranged, we opened the door and let Buddy burst out of there like a freight train to find his new treasures. He was so excited and did not know what to do first. The look on his face was pure joy. He would open some of the wrapping (with some help from us) and take each toy in his mouth, throw it up in the air, shake his head back and forth, then jump around in a circle and move onto the next one. Sometimes he would grab one, do his trademarked somersault move, where he would actually tumble over, tucking his head and all, and hold the toy with his two front paws, inviting us to join in the festivities. Watching him was the highlight of our Christmas. He seemed to love each and every toy. We hoped he would realize he could finally relax; he was home at last.
After blissfully playing with all of his toys over and over again, he carefully settled down on which one he would stick with for a while, and chose to play with his rawhide for a couple of hours. We were sort of thankful, as this would keep him busy and we could finally relax, but we soon noticed that he had a really unique, funny habit with rawhide bones, at least from what I have witnessed in comparison by watching other dogs.
Most dogs, upon receiving a rawhide, go off into their corner or even outside, and cannot wait to devour it. Buddy, on the other hand would go venture off to another room by himself and after about three minutes, you would hear him bark and/or cry. Not really knowing what he was doing in there, I was able to strategically sneak up on him one day (which was not easy to do) and see what was making him so vocal. When I walked in, I tried to contain my laughter as I noticed that he had messed up all of the covers on the bed, buried his bone in the covers and then retrieved it again. He repeated this numerous times until he noticed I was there. When he caught me watching him, he would do his “Buddy-bark” and then zip past me. This was not so different, as a lot of dogs do attempt to bury bones every once in a while.
What was different was that if we chose not to go see what he was up to in those three minutes, he would come running out full speed, again doing his notorious Buddy-bark, and invite us to chase him. He acted so goofy, running through open doors, around tables, up stairs, down stairs and all over the house. If you stopped chasing him, he would come and try to entice you to play some more. To Buddy, it was never about eating the bone. The bone would last him months. All he wanted to do was have you play with him. And, he would never bite. You could put your mouth on one end of the bone (not that you would really want to), but he would not even growl, he would just move over so you could join him…that is, if you could catch him.
As bad as he was, spoiling him was so much fun. While his previous owners did not beat him, neglecting any dog is abuse enough, even though I do not believe that was their intention. This particular golden thrived on attention as well as exercise, so locking him in the basement was one of the worst things they could have done. They fed him well enough and gave him toys and shelter, but second to food, Buddy needed constant love and his mind needed intense challenges daily. We wanted to make sure this dog never had to know loneliness again…and he hasn’t. Come to think of it, neither have we.
This was just the beginning. As it turned out, we hadn’t even touched the surface of the many mischievous and embarrassing situations we would encounter while trying to train Buddy. We had no idea about what we were in for or the challenges we were about to face.
Chapter 4-Getting to Know Each Other
Things are not always what they seem. Sometimes a little perseverance and a lot of patience can work wonders. Look into the heart of the issue and it is there where you will find your true answers.
Since we were already able to tell that Buddy was not an ordinary dog, we decided to hit the bookstore and grasp some knowledge about how to handle such a unique type of pup. Most of the training books said that the key to handling a rambunctious dog was variety and plenty of exercise, so we made sure we did just that. It did not matter. None of this helped. We went through tons of books by various authors. Desperate, we attempted a variety of training techniques and we asked anyone who knew anything about dogs tons of questions. At the vet, we asked for any advice they could give us. We asked them to evaluate Buddy. They agreed he was exceptionally hyper. Maybe even a little over the top. They did not see anything physically wrong with him, but with a slight hesitation they all admitted he was a bit out of the norm.
One of the vets even said she had recognized him. She said he was in training (which he was prior to us adopting him) and that they gave him aggression tests to which he passed with flying colors. The tests consisted of having him sit next to a person while leashed up for a long period of time and see how he would react. They would put him in all different circumstances to see if any annoyance was portrayed; taking his food, his bones, and things of “importance” to him. This was to test to see if he had any issues with resource guarding. Each and every time, Buddy wagged his tail. Not an ounce of aggression in this dog.
We did, however, have Buddy’s temperament questioned at one specific point in time. One of our veterinarians, with whom we generally had a great relationship, gave Buddy a big red “X” on his file and asked us to give him a tranquilizer any time we were to bring him in. We could not believe he was referring to our dog! How could they think Buddy, of all dogs, was ferocious? When we inquired about what caused this, we found out that this stemmed from an episode that occurred during one of his visits. A very scared veterinary technician was trying to examine Buddy during a routine check-up and he “lunged” at her.
While this may sound horrifying, if you know dogs and you saw Buddy, you would understand that his version of lunging was nothing more than trying to trample you to the ground so that he can wrestle with you and play. He was never malicious. If someone was holding the leash and then backing away, to Buddy, this was a major invite to play! He really did not care if you could keep up with him or not. Apparently this technician could not. I do not fault her, however as not many people could.
The vet explained that if he saw the whole thing and if we were outside playing, he would not have been alarmed, but some of the friendliest dogs can turn temporarily vicious while visiting the vet. While this is definitely true, we explained that this was nothing more than Buddy being Buddy, and again if you knew him, you would understand. After finally pleading our case and convincing our vet of this, the red “X” came off. We never let that tech handle him anymore. Instead, another male tech handled him much more successfully. In fact he would laugh at Buddy’s attempt to commandeer the situation, which made it all the more fun to watch. It seemed that when Buddy realized you were not going to put up with his games, he would behave. To him, however, he had to at least try to drive you to the point of insanity. In many instances, he succeeded.
To effectively deal with Buddy’s unflagging energy, we made sure to walk him for at least a mile each day, if not more, whether it was a beautiful, sunny day with blue skies overhead or whether it was one of Long Island’s grayest and snowiest of days. Regardless of the weather, Buddy needed invigorating exercise. This was basically just to keep us a little sane. Buddy still had unfaltering energy, but it bought us at least an hour for him to be calm.
During our daily walk we would run into well-meaning people who would ask the question “Isn’t he neutered? I thought neutered dogs were supposed to be calmer.” Yep, we thought the same thing. Thanks for the educational heads-up. Obviously, we were dead wrong. We had nothing to compare his behavior pre-neutering to, but we can only surmise that it must have been even crazier!
We would also see people with other male, neutered, young golden retrievers and their dog would be totally calm. Our dog would be pulling, jumping, barking, and causing a major scene. We would always just assume their dog was older than ours, but when we found out they were the same age, we slowly realized we did not have a typical dog on our hands. Our training techniques couldn’t be that bad, could they?!
In our getting-acquainted stage, we promptly found out that Buddy was a mischievous little thief. Anything that was within his range on the floor or in jumping distance was not safe. We had to learn to see the world as he sees it; low to the ground. This meant getting at his eye level, looking for anything he would be able to see and promptly removing items that he could possibly steal.
Unfortunately, we learned this the hard way and a little too late. There were times when his actions were harmless and even funny, and other times when they were a little more dangerous.
Michael and I were not yet married, so within the first week of owning Buddy, Michael called me at my mother’s house one morning to say that Buddy had managed to indulge in a bottle cap. Not a nice clean edge soda bottle cap like one would have hoped (if you hope for such a thing), but a sharp, jagged-edged, metal beer cap. I could not imagine what compelled him to do so, but he jumped on the counter and thought it was a good idea to eat this. I do not even want to imagine the intense pain that he felt as he swallowed it.
Great-We had owned him for less than a week and already this would be our first call to the vet. We awkwardly explained story to them about how we just got the dog and he was a bit over the top. We also, for some reason (most likely due to our guilt) felt the need to explain that we were not heavy drinkers, but he just happened to grab the one beer cap from the one bottle of beer we drank. I really do not think the vet cared about our drinking habits, but we were feeling like it was our fault and that we needed to ‘fess up!
After hearing our pathetic story, the options that were given to use were either to get X-rays and operate…or wait a few days and see how he was doing. Since we really did not know much about what to do and have never experienced a dog that dined on rough edged bottle caps, we chose to wait a few days. He was not behaving any differently so we thought all was okay.
After checking on him constantly and looking for any signs of illness, it turned out Buddy luckily was fine. We did not think anything of it and almost forgot about it until three weeks later when we found the bottle cap; albeit rusted, on the kitchen floor. There were no surrounding “objects,” so we were just thankful we found it and made sure to keep anything with sharp edges out of his reach. We were not really sure how it came out…but we decided not to let our imagination get the best of us and just to move on. That information would remain solely between Buddy and the bottle cap.
It did not end there though. The more valuable the item, the more fun it was for Buddy to steal. My mother reminisces about how she came over to visit one day and mistakenly left her pocketbook open on the bed. I saw it open and couldn’t help but notice Buddy’s stuffed animal was inside. I asked my mother why she had his toy in her bag, to which she looked at me like I was losing my mind. In a slight panic, I immediately knew something was up as I couldn’t find Buddy and quickly came to realize that he had been quiet for quite some time.
After searching the house a little, I saw him in his crate quietly eating something. As I moved in a little closer, his tail started wagging profusely and he started to bark at me. Whatever he was eating, he tried to devour in a frenzied haste, but could not eat it as quickly as he had hoped. Since he was already in his crate, I was able to grab the remaining object from his mouth without having a full-fledged chase throughout the entire house. What I pulled out of his mouth was a half-eaten package of cheese crackers.
That explained the stuffed animal in my mother’s purse! My mother had a small package of cheese crackers in her purse and he had ventured into the bedroom when we weren’t looking, jumped on the bed, looked for a treasure and stole his delicious snack. In exchange for the crackers, he put his toy in there. I guess he thought we would not be smart enough to notice the difference and sadly enough, he almost got away with it!
My niece, unfortunately, had to deal with some theft from Buddy as well. She, too, had left her purse open while visiting. As Buddy was gone for too long, I went looking for him and at the same time, he came running out of the bedroom barking as loud as ever. He had something green stuffed in his mouth and was proud as can be. As we got a bit closer, we saw what it was and couldn’t believe our eyes.
He had gone in my niece’s purse, bypassed all of the other items in there, pulled out her wallet and selectively pulled out a twenty dollar bill. We were able to salvage it just enough so that it was usable. That is, of course, after we dried the excessive drool off of it!
From that point on, I tried to warn any person that came over with any type of bag to please make sure it was tightly closed and positioned high enough so that Buddy did not have any access to it.
Aside from that, he was frequently into stealing shoes, sneakers, socks, sunglasses, important papers, pens, plants and cell phones...basically anything he was not supposed to have. When company came over, we had to quickly warn them not to put their belongings anywhere that Buddy could get to them. It did not matter how many different types of toys we bought him, as both his cheap and expensive toys were quickly turning into mere threads inside of a few short days.
We were going broke trying to keep his “variety” dynamic so we finally smartened up, bought only cheap toys and learned to sew the ones that had any chance of recovery. To subsidize his toy fetish, I went rummaging through the attic of my mom’s house to find “puppy safe” toys I had accumulated while growing up.
As fast as we got him toys, the faster I had to fix them up. I had more stuffed animals in ‘surgery’ than in Buddy’s toy chest. I had become very good at sewing, although I don’t think I had ever found matching thread. Buddy did not seem to mind. It gave his toys character. He would obediently wait by my side while I sewed these for him. Ironically it was one of the few times he was calm and quiet. I then figured out why. As soon as I was done, he would flash his beautiful puppy dog eyes and I would give him his newly renovated toy. He seemed to like these damaged toys the best; it gives him a challenge to rip it faster in half the time it took me to sew them. Our all time favorite was one we nicknamed ‘Lobotomy Bunny.’ Buddy tore off half of its head, which I stubbornly sewed back on. It was quite unattractive to say the least, but Buddy absolutely loved it.
After carrying these around in his mouth for a few days, they would become quite dirty and pretty gross-looking. I then decided I could wash them every few days and they would be as good as new. I was quickly adapting to the new everyday life of dealing with Buddy.
We realized we had to keep our sneakers secured away in the closet and anything of any relevance was to be left locked up. The good thing was that Buddy, even until recently, would not open doors if they were even halfway closed. (Well, not unless there was a thunderstorm, which is a whole other story). This was the one thing that we had going for us.
We were safe from Buddy getting into something he was not supposed to if we did close the doors halfway, but again this was something we gradually learned. More than once we have come home to our entire house being toilet-papered. This may have startled us at first, until we quickly recognized the culprit. There was no way he could possibly deny this one. Bud’s feet had toilet paper stuck all over his pads. As he innocently wagged his tail and barked at us like we were guilty, his nose had remnants of toilet paper stuck to it, as did the jowls of his mouth and teeth. He was clearly busted, he knew it, and he couldn’t have been happier.
Our bathroom sink used to have a cute curtain like cover going around it, instead of a cabinet. We used to store extra toilet paper rolls underneath it. That was another habit of ours we quickly needed to do away with. We thought that would take care of the issues with toilet paper.
This was not the case at all. Buddy decided he could still get at it while it was on the toilet paper roll in the bathroom. He found an edge he could grab and must have started pulling. Again, this was all planned for us to come home to his obsession with unsightly redecorating. While funny at first, it became somewhat annoying after a long day at work. The last thing we felt like doing was parading around the house picking up confetti-sized pieces of toilet paper, especially after we spent countless hours cleaning the house the previous day.
If that wasn’t enough for him, he decided it a good idea to go rummaging through the trash cans and pick out what was, in his eyes, a treasure. There is nothing more disgusting than pulling used and slobbered-on tissues out of the depths of a dog’s throat.
These times were definitely trying. Not really a firm believer in hitting our dogs, our methods of punishment were giving him “time-out” in his crate. He grew to know the tone in our voices so well, that if he thought he was in trouble, he would just take the liberty of punishing himself. He would walk into his crate, glare back at us as if we had some nerve and occasionally growl at us in what he thought was a threatening way. The funny thing was that his growl just made us laugh because we knew he was completely incapable of hurting so much as a fly. He would try to look mean and vicious, and show us all of his pearly whites as he peeled back his jowls, but we knew better. He wasn’t hurting anyone. Our favorite thing to do when he growled was to kiss his nose or stick our hands in his mouth (do not do this unless you COMPLETELY trust your dog). He knew we weren’t afraid of him one bit. And we knew he was not afraid of us at all. The latter did not exactly work in our favor.
Yelling at him did not matter. He was never scared of us. In his quest for stealing, he would systematically search for whatever item would get him the most attention. He would grab whatever he could and instead of hiding the fact that he stole something, he would come find us, with his tail wagging out of control and give what became his trademark ‘stealing’ bark. Anytime he stole something, he sounded this harmonious bark letting us know it was playtime. The more you chased him, the more he would bark and the faster his tail would wag. It was very difficult to become mad at him while you are watching him have so much fun. There were times, though, when it wasn’t so funny, for instance when he would take reports that you have been diligently working on for hours. He would decide it was good to at least drool on them, or if he was really devoted to giving us a good time, rip them to shreds.
His thievery became such a routine that we would hear him lugging something up the stairs every morning without fail. One day, it would be a sneaker, another day a folder, the next day it would be the sound of him dropping heavy work boots down the stairs, running down to grab it and try once more to carry it up. If he finally made it up the stairs, he would jump into bed with us and greet us by dropping the dirty boot on our heads. Getting knocked in the head with a heavy boot was not really a great way to wake up!
One morning, I lazily awoke to Buddy standing on the floor at the base of the bed, his tail wagging at 100 miles per hour. As soon as he realized I was awake, his tail moved even faster. I could only imagine what this dog had in his possession that would make him this happy. As I hesitantly rose from my peaceful sleep, I patiently awaited the harmonious bark. I could tell immediately if whatever he had was a “treasured item” from the speed of his tail and the intensity of his bark. This particular bark was about as loud as it gets and his tail could not wag any faster.
As I braced myself for what I was about to see, there, at the base of the bed, was Buddy. And there in his mouth, was my brand new bra. The straps were stuck between his two front paws, as if he were trying to wear it, and apparently, he could not figure out a way to get it off. If anyone has ever had any doubt that a dog laughs, trust me. Without a shadow of a doubt, I am positive they do. I can guarantee this dog found this entire episode to be the funniest thing he had ever experienced up until that point. I decided not to help him since he was so amused and his tail was still wagging away, loving life. After a few minutes, I eventually had to get up and wrestle with him. He was just too damn cute. He would always win the wrestling match though. At that point, he was just way too strong.
Amongst Buddy’s list of favorite things to steal is scrunchies. He has an inexplicable, strong obsession with these things. He could find the scrunchy in any girls' hair (if they wore one) and gently, but expediently pull it out. I’d see him actually eyeing my head to see if I was wearing one or if I was on the floor, he would make his move to smell my hair, and then make his move to steal. It made for a fun day if I were to forget this. I have tried to turn the tables on him and wrap my scrunchy around his snout, but this just made it more entertaining for him. He would always win. He would run off barking and then eventually come back with the scrunchy in his mouth as if to say “see, you can’t outwit me!” He was absolutely right.
Many mornings I wore my hair tied up in a scrunchy and foolishly bent down to pick something up, tie my shoe or get something out of a cabinet. Sure enough, before I could get up in time, there was Buddy ripping the scrunchy out of my hair, which he methodically would do without so much as pulling a hair out of my head! This pilfering also led to a high speed chase throughout the house: up the stairs, around the dining room table, over the couches, around the coffee table. Anywhere was free game. Sometimes this was funny, but when you are late for work or an appointment, it was irritating. He did not care one bit. To him, this was entertaining.