Mr. T you speak with such authority!  Let me remind you that you were working crazy hours…..waking in the afternoon when all the fun and games were 1/2 over.  Your start to the day was the search for your massage shoes that invariably ended up in the backyard behind the bird cage (Versace had no interest in our housemates’ cockatiels thank goodness), at around 3pm.

It was I, who after broken sleep from taking little Versace out to the toilet at one stage every 45 mins for a  ‘tootoo’ as we called it, would awaken bleary eyed, force a dry piece of toast down my gob chased with a cup of tea or water (never been a breakfast person but a large potential man eating breed needs to eat after its *master*) to then feed the growing puppy.

Some quiet times followed (as quiet as I could get a puppy with energy to light up Australia) so he could digest his meal, maybe he would attach to my shins as I tried to do some chores (seriously no excuses it was hard work to do anything sleep deprived and nutritionally deprived – we lived on take away and frozen packaged stuff (YUK!) for a while – with constant worry about where my beloved ratbag was if he wasn’t attached to me, what might he have found to swallow, etc. –  it was the closest practice run to having a baby I swear!)

Given that I was now unable to wear shorts, skirts or anything that revealed my legs to the public because of the bruises – after a colonoscopy performed some months into parenthood, a nurse diplomatically enquired about the bruises on my legs.  Not just one or two, I was covered in black and blue bruises from Versace nipping me!  I slurred I had a puppy, and trying not to be shocked she asked what kind of puppy does that to a person.  A sigh when she heard I had a Dobermann…….man eating reputation lives on! –  I had armed myself with a number of training books and aids from the local library.

Yep, you women will understand…….I was feeling helplessly like a bad mother who could not effectively teach her little puppy the manners of the world.  I was at risk of raising an indescriminate ramboo and destructive member of society…..letting down the Dobermann ranks.  I had to get to work on some strategies to stop the nipping……I tried everything…..spray bottles, yelping, NOOOO, tap under the chin, blowing up the nose with a short breath (that works on other small dogs (without a lockjaw,who have taken off with your dogs ball!), time out in his crate and even the dreaded smack.  GUILT.  GUILT….more GUILT.  SELF DOUBT, SELF DOUBT, SELF BLAME…….sorry pooch, I still love you, you are being naughty and you just have to stop, got it?  Not a chance in hell……he loved that he was the centre of my world, and was making a claim to stay that way!

The books taught me so much……but none of it helped.

And where were you Mr. T?  In the land of ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz while I suffered from my torturous little companion.  And when you were in the land of the living, your advice was not applicable……he was not a hamster, or a bird you could whistle from a tree.  Actually you were plain, downright mean at times, and he looked so betrayed and upset……

Of course this can only lead to OVER COMPENSATING and more guilt on your behalf.  I had to protect my little rambunctious whirlwind of destruction from you hurting his self esteem ….. I had to find ways of teaching him to behave that did not involve any of us being miserable (where was Caesar Millan back then!)

I may have mentioned that I started training him from DAY 1.  At least an hour a day with commands and rewards of Super Coat (one way to get him to eat, although fair enough a bit of a lame treat but back then he was none the wiser, that is until Mr. T declared that since he doesn’t eat the same meal twice in a row, nor should our puppy! ).  He did do well but it was frustrating for both of us (looking back my little boy was confused by my confusion with a multitude of disciplinary techniques & of course my guilt and self doubt, fear really, that I was going to create a villain of society)……at puppy school I learnt much easier and effective techniques.

Of course looking back I really wasn’t behaving as an Alpha the whole time!  And to top it off I had “Old School Enthusiast” father telling me that a potentially aggressive dog needed an aggressive handler……I reminded him that he had part produced an aggressive dog (towards other dogs that is)  from aggressive handling…..fell on deaf ears!  Many arguments ensued, and of course I was more determined than ever to raise my ‘son’ the way I believe he should be raised, with love and affection, even though in the early days I was so over ‘parenting’ my wretched little sod, who swallowed everything from ball bearings to plastic bags to sponges and chewed me to bits (rather than shoes, that came later!).

In his defense, it was my wretched housemates who left garage doors open, and bedroom doors open (it was a massive property), cupboards open so that “jaws” could swallow something else that caused immense stress and conflict.  Versace was just doing what puppies do and having fun exploring everything.  And he was very well behaved.  Much to my fathers surprise he was adorable, and other than a few indoor whoopsies, he didn’t put a paw wrong when in the presence of others…….

And he was so cute it was hard to be cranky with him, even when he dug up my herb garden and proceeded to eat all the dill, parsley and coriander in that order followed by the rest of my plants.  You may wonder how he got up to so much mischief since I was with him most of the time?  Speed.  He was attached to my legs then he would be gone…..and I was also guilty, though memory hazy, of dozing from time to time.  And I was studying, mostly distance, although the premises were only a 10 minute drive away.

To keep my little tyke stimulated, not only was I training him in the backyard for upwards of an hour a day, I was also doing the walking.  Remember the bit about ‘balance’ for our lifestyles?  Somehow Mr. T had piked out on his responsibilities and left the exercise and training up to me (as well as all the other stuff!)  In the early days Mr. T did accompany us on our walks but they were not the easiest part of the day.  Versace had an amazing physical power to his stubborn nature and could pull me around the neighbourhood with a gusto.  No matter how many times I corrected him, he would pull ahead.  It was frustrating and agonizing, taking toll on my back/ neck.  But what choices did I have?  Without adequate exercise Versace just keep going, and going, and the nipping got worse.

Having already had a dog that was ball crazy, I knew that if Versace was focused on ball play I would have power.  He became obsessive about tennis balls in particular and he would do anything, sit, stay, roll over, shake hands, come, anything to have a ball thrown for him.  I used it to my full advantage.

But, what I also learned was that while the ball was a great source of power, when he had it in his jaws I was, well,  powerless……!!!

Ms. S