Alpha Dog

One of the real bonuses of having two dogs, especially if the oldest is well behaved, is that the older dog helps in the training of the younger dog.

When we got our first Chessie, we were a little anxious. We were used to a placid Cocker Spaniel who was not aggressive (She did snap at a neighbor boy who tried to crawl into her kennel while she was sleeping in it, but you really couldn't blame her.) Everything we read about Chessie's indicated they were hard to socialize and could be aggressive. If properly socialized, they could be great family pets and companions.

My plan to socialize our puppy, Nikki, was to have her around Ryan's friends when they came to the house and to take her everywhere I could. Mostly I took her to high school soccer games and track meets. She was very friendly and everyone loved her.

Ron's plan to make sure she wasn't aggressive was submission training. A friend of his had a Vizsla and he was training the dog to know who was the alpha dog through submission training. Ron took his advice and most evenings he would put Nikki on her back and he would crouch over her. I'm not saying that it had anything to do with her fear of thunder, her penchant for eating trash, or any of her other crazy behaviors. I am just saying.

She is the only dog with whom Ron has used this submission method. It may be that he didn't have to use it with our other dogs because the older dogs did it for him. Yesterday when it finally stopped raining and I could take the dogs outside, I watched them play. Much of their play centered around Rosie lying on her back and acting like a wet rag while Daisy stood over her. Thank goodness, Ron does not have to put Rosie on her back and crouch (That would be hard on his new knee.)over her because Daisy is doing it for him.

Trash Eater

Yes, that is a trash can on my commode. The reason I am writing about it is I came home from work and found the trash can sitting on my commode. It is not because Ron mopped the floor today. It is because we have our second trash eater of a dog. Rosie has been rooting around in the trash, finding used Kleenex, and eating them.

This is a very bad sign. Our first Chessie, Nikki, was a trash eater. She was partial to paper products but even more than paper products she liked panty hose. The reason we know she liked them is they do not digest. Yep, that's right, they come out looking just a little worse for the wear. When they come out on their own, its bad enough but when they need some help - need I say more?

My worst experience with an undigested panty hose took place in St. Mary's, PA. We were on our way to Twin Pine, the Detrick family camp, in the state forest near Hyner View, Renova, PA. Ron's grandmother, Nan, referred to Renova as the "a-- hole of the world. " Well this story fits right in with that name.

We were driving through St. Mary's and everyone was hungry. Since we had Nikki with us, that meant drive thru. We drove though Burger King, at least Ron did. While he was driving thru, I jumped out of the car with Nikki. There was a nice wooded area adjacent to the parking lot. I brought my plastic bag to pick up any mess she made. Thank goodness, for that bag! As soon as we got to the grassy area, she started sniffing the ground and circling. She crouched but something wasn't right. I got behind her to take a look. "OH NO!" What was coming out of her backside ? Panty hose, and she needed some help.

There I was standing next to a parking lot where people are driving through to pick up their dinner, and I am helping my dog remove panty hose from the back end of her digestive system. I put the plastic bag on my hand like a glove and started to gently pull on the panty hose. It is a slow, careful procedure. It wasn't pretty

If I ever had any pride or ego, Nikki took it from me that day. Oblivious to what was going on, Ron picked up the food and rode around the lot to get us. I lwas laughing so hard I was crying, or maybe I was crying so hard I was laughing. Embarrassed doesn't come close to describing how I felt. I only needed to say one word to Ron, "pantyhose." He knew what had happened. This wasn't our first time at the rodeo. I suspect a few families saved some money due to a loss of appetite while they were driving through.

Oh No! Rosie just ran by and something long and beige or is it suntan is hanging from her mouth. I gotta go.

The Beginning

This Blog is an effort to answer the question, "Why?" that I was repeatedly asked when I informed friends and coworkers that Ron, my husband, and I were going to get a puppy. More specifically a Chesapeake Bay Retriever puppy. We will pick up the puppy on Tuesday, June 9th. I start the blog today because the story does not start on June 9th. It starts in the spring of 1999, or maybe the autumn of 1979. At least that is where I will begin.

You probably noticed this not a picture of a Chessie. It is our cherished first born, Sara, who along with her little brother, Ryan, monopolized twenty years of our lives. We had a full life band competitions, softball, baseball, soccer, swimming, whiz kids, track - you get the picture. Then, in the late summer 1998 we drove to State College, PA and spent the night in a seedy motel. It was best described by my husband's canny observation that he would have gotten a better night's sleep if he had slept on his dirty underwear instead of the pillow they provided.

The only reason we spent the night and didn't drive home was we were there to deliver #1 child to Penn State University. Another insightful observation by her father, "Did you notice how she did not look back?"

I noticed that Dad was having a little difficulty adjusting to only

one child and to make matters worse; the family dog, Lady, seemed to be hanging on for our sake. I started doing some research. I was looking for a dog that would be a companion to a guy who liked to be outdoors, loved to hunt and fish. A dog that might fill a little bit of the empty left by a little girl becoming an independent woman. I searched the internet and found the perfect dog, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever,

Ron did not jump on board immediately. He thought a Golden or Labrador would be a better choice and besides Lady was too old to deal with a puppy. Chessie's had a reputation for being territorial and possibly aggressive. I knew he had a lot of love to give and would not raise an mean dog.

Some people have referred to me as a Bulldog and not only because I am from Wesleyville. I am sure they were alluding to my persistence. As you can see, I was persistent.

This is Nikki. Our first Chessie. Our son picked her out of a large litter and she stole our hearts. Our first born came home from Penn State for summer break just in time to take her to puppy preschool. Nikki learned that if she would sit, lay down, and heel when we wanted her to we would give her a treat. If she didn't, we would laugh and say she was, "Sara's dog."

In closing, I do have to say Ron was wrong. Lady perked up when we brought the puppy home. We all believed it added at least 6 months to Lady's life. She loved that puppy, so they were a happy six months. It also made the decision to put our blind, hard of hearing, and slow to move Cocker Spaniel to sleep after 15 sweet years as a family dog a little easier.