Man's Best Friend.

One of my dad's favourite sayings, strangely not from the Bible, was,"The more I see of people, the more I likes me dog." He had dogs all the time I knew him, normally big dogs, and either Collies or German Shepherds. In fact, I heard my mother say,"He knew that Bobby (a pure-bred 'Lassie') was going to be his last dog and when he died suddenly at 7, dad never got over it." And dad died of pancreatic cancer a few months later.
And, I've carried on the family tradition when I could i.e. lived in the country. Eddy, my present companion, and he is that, is an Akita/German Shepherd cross (as far as the vets can tell) and I rescued him from the very lovely Ferne Animal Sanctuary, near Chard in Dorset, just over 5 years ago. I was told he was not an easy dog, being an aggressive dominant with other dogs and being very wary of adult humans, particularly men who moved their hand near his head, or young, noisy children. He had been found wandering the streets of Swansea by the police who had been called to get him. He had obviously been badly treated and probably abandoned. All this prior to his 14 months in captivity, well looked after but kept away from the pack.

In the Lake District a few weeks after I got Eddy: although not in the picture, there were a lot of people and dogs about, hence the muzzle.

And once he had been delivered to me, I was living in a small bungalow across the road from my mum's at this time, I had a difficult first couple of months. The older man next door was a dog portrait painter; he had painted a couple of my dad's. He loved dogs and hearing that I had got one he bought some dog biscuits to give him. First time he tried, Eddy nearly bit his finger off. A short relationship that was.
Seaton as a town, has a large dog population, all sorts of twee tiny dogs belonging to the older but mobile population of this retirement town and the bigger, mongrel population belonging to the workers (and unemployed). So walking Eddy in town, on the seafront or beach, along the clifftops, around the bungalow estates, was a series of skirmishes where Eddy would be straining on his leash to dominate the other dog, however big or small, with the other dog yapping and approaching Eddy, the smaller, the closer, and the other owner (generally) going into a dramatic state of panic. I could usually avoid contact by straining my muscles to prevent 45kgs of muscle from steaming ahead, jaws wide open. But, as sometimes happened, and the other dog was off the lead and came in foolhardily close, there would be a thunderous growling noise accompanied by high-pitched keening, whilst bodies rolled around on the floor, their precise positions being difficult to ascertain, as we, the owners/managers strove to excitrait them.

Out walking with my good friend, Jo Fox.

Generally the most damage done was to my ears and once or twice I later had visits from the Town Dog Police, in plain clothes but carrying identification anyone could have made at home these days. These ladies were officious, patronising and plain rude and, knowing exactly what had happened I was confident in telling them about their qualities. I later got my comeback when they gave me a fine for letting my Eddy defecate on, or on the side of, a public footpath: in fact, it was in tall stinging nettles a good yard away where no sensible human would have ventured. When I asked for their proof it was a photo taken from the other side of the harbour, of MY CAR, not a creature that craps!
Joking aside, it was clear that working on his behaviour was crucial: his level of sociabillity and his obeying of commands needed constant improvement. This sort of breed of dog, often used to working with one other human, of a large, physical make-up, are not naturally sociable, not like many breeds, and, particularly when removed from mother and siblings at an early age as is the trend, this job falls on the owners, and if they are poor and badly informed, the male, in particular, will become an aggressive dominant, with other dogs, but with humans too if we are not careful. My father had a big Welsh Border Collie when I was a teenager. He was fine with us all most of the time but the only person he would let in the front door was my dad. My dad was the pack leader, and Laddie was the number two: the rest of us had to use the back door.

Lying on top of Sez.

Eddy knew very few commands when I got him but I got him to learn loads more, and new places, things to do, ignoring people, ignoring other dogs (starting with a long way away, then the other side of the street...), learning when out in the fields, off the lead, not to clear off, to come when told (unless on the trail of a rabbit, etc., ) and other less important things, just to improve his idea that sounds meant things and were linked to specific acts. And he could be brilliant for ages and then suddenly do something which had become out of character, like turning round and nibbling on the ankle of some poor person who was walking to close behind us. A muzzle was suggested by the police and other people but my vet said muzzling him would be admitting defeat because being muzzled tends to make them worse, more aggressive. And, things were slowly improving. When we later lived with my mum, three carers per day came to the house to help me looking after mum, and there were loads of different women involved. Eddy was fine, sociable, loving a cuddle, with virtually all these women from day one, except for two who both stated before coming in that they were scared of dogs and could I lock him away. Strangely these women were both English and the ones who got on fine with him were all Eastern Europeans except for a couple of other local girls. What Eddy needed was more company so he could see how enjoyable it was.
Everything changed when, just before and just after my mother's passing, I had visitors, friends and also sons, staying in the bungalow. Eddy was so happy to have them around, even my two son's who were not that happy about him.

Eddy the other week, in front of Frank's house, where he stays when I have to go away without him.

More in the next post as Eddy and I hit the road for Europe.