Here To Help.
Warning: The following is satire and those that do not know what that means (or were born after the 1990’s) should avoid this Blog like avoiding reality. Oh, and that - just now - that was satire. Perhaps, with a hint of sarcasm?
I believe I have mentioned somewhere on this website that I train gun dogs - upland (bird) dogs, to be specific. I had hoped that I had made that exhaustively clear? Oh, but the troubles I’ve seen.
I hadn’t been in business a month before I began answering emails and phone calls dealing with a myriad of dog-related issues. From constipation to car chasing and car sickness! Yes, one of these early mut-maladies was a car sick dog that the new owner had “rescued” (her term) to travel around as a motorhome companion.
Purchasing an older dog because she wanted to spare herself the trouble of puppy-training while fulfilling the desire to be a virtuous dog hero had backfired, horribly.
“Quick! Somebody Open a Window!!”
Today was another stellar day in the career of a gun dog trainer.
I had completed an article I hoped worthy of publication and celebrated with brisk exercise; running each setter, separately, through the frosty fields behind our house. While in the field I caught a text from a client/friend about his young dog and its newly fractured wrist. At just over a year old, this dog has spent more time in the hospital than the vet.
Texting back and forth, I attempted to reassure that a hairline fracture on a year-old pooch is something likely to be dismissed by the dog and, therefore, by its rightfully concerned owner as well. Between you and me; I’m beginning to wonder if the dog is hooked on pain killers…?
Back at the house, I noticed a message on my website and excitedly checked in. The sincere message described a dogless uplander searching for help. Apparently between dogs, the gentleman inquired about renting a dog for the up-coming season. I’m still trying to come to a solace of sorts on this. I mean, on one hand, I can sympathize with someone searching for canine companionship. I would, (and have, actually), sooner hunt upland birds without a gun than a dog.
On the other hand, who would loan a beloved companion like a mere lawnmower? I mean, let’s forget that these dogs live with us; rather, let’s consider the investment in training and maintaining a well-managed dog! Even if his last name was Musk or Bezos, he couldn’t afford the price. (That may be hyperbole. We are still in negotiations.)
“Comes complete with collar and plates! You can drive him off the lot for $100 deposit and two-ninty-eight a month! Act now and I’ll throw-in a leash for free!”
Completing a polite response, I had barely time to press the send button before a phone call chimed; another poor soul in desperate need. Within the first sentence I hear, “mini golden-doodle”. You know, it took every ounce of strength to over-ride the compulsion to suffocate the phone with a pillow.
Aside: Let it be known that “Mini” anything but skirts are a disaster and, even then, results vary - let’s be honest. I mean, miniature size and the lack of shedding are not my highest priorities for choosing a life-long pet! (Obviously, because we own three, full-sized, English “Shedders”.) Hypo-allergy is another common reason to acquire this mixed breed; even though no dog is completely so. I’ve heard people use this reasoning even when it wasn’t established that an allergic reaction to dogs existed.
Factoid: Probably less than a quarter of Americans feel any allergic reaction to dogs - cat allergies are about twice that of dogs.
Creating a market for a small dog made smaller, was not done to advance its kind. I mean, a miniature Dachshund - really?! The only reason that I can think of to make a Dachshund smaller is to have less excrement to clean up around the house.
When was the last time you heard anyone advocating for a Großer (Large) Dachshund?!
“Yeah, me neither”…
I’ve recently read the terms “reputable breeder” and “mixed breeds” being used in tandem. How did the idea come about?! It must be stated that that is the direct opposite of what “reputable breeder” means! By way of illustration, someone that mixes car parts - Ford and Toyota, metric and standard - wouldn’t have the reputation of being a “reputable mechanic”. Just being nice to their dogs doesn’t make someone a reputable breeder.
When mixing two diverse breeds there is as much likelihood that the personality of the offspring will lean heavily to one side or the other. In the case of golden-doodles, allow me to make two huge generalizations to further my point. Goldens can be universally personable, wish to please, and can shrug off reprimand. Poodles can be overly sensitive, becoming stressed and anxious. When purchasing a mixed breed, it’s important to know the tendencies of BOTH breeds because nothing has been established as a characteristic.
To Continue: I gently informed the troubled gentleman that I train gun dogs, primarily upland bird dogs; though I am quite certain that he didn’t completely comprehend my meaning. I furthered my point by demonstration, “If you wanted to know if your golden-doodle would hunt birds, I might be able to establish that,” I stated in a searching tone.
Seemingly undiscouraged, the poor man continued like a patron to a sympathetic bar tender. According to my new friend, the young dog urinated anywhere in the house it pleased. The further the tale was told the more thoughtfully I considered his plight. “I may be short but I have broad shoulders,” I’ve often said.
Finally, during a pause for a tissue or another stiff belt of liquid spirit, he asked, “Have you had any experience with this sort of thing?” I might have mentioned my preference was to train bird dogs - by now, a conditioned response - then continued, “I know goldens and I know poodles. I have trained goldens and know them to be wonderfully biddable and intelligent.”
After a slight pause, “What I’ve learned about poodles came from very early life experiences. You see, we had a couple poodles in my youth. The last French poodle (back then, all poodles included the precursor “French”) belonged to my sister and it was named, Smokey. Being French poodles with similar detestable habits, the name, Pee-air would have suited them equally.”
There was a silence, a barely audible sigh, and a somewhat dejected voice returned. “Thank you for your time,” was his polite offering. You know, I’m not totally convinced he meant it.
“Hey, I’m here to help” -
Enjoy your dog.
