The Good Dog

Grizzly has been enrolled in the Suggs Family School of the Good Dog. Mostly because we just can't handle any more bad dog. Neither can the plants, Buella, and truth be told, neither can the dog himself. You've heard of Marley, the crazy labrador? Meet Grizzly, the crazy newfie who can move 2,000 pounds.





We thought it would be okay to turn him loose in the yard with the invisible fence. Unfortunately, the freedom seems to exacerbate his behavior issues. When we first moved into our new house, Grizzly destroyed the large bathroom that we kept him confined in when we were gone (it kept him off of the beds!), including ripping the door apart, removing the trim from the walls and tromping foot prints all over the vanity (yes, that means he was walking on it!).





Then, we confined him to his kennel in the laundry room, where the beast went into such hysterics we thought we were going to have to part ways. He cried like an elephant at four o'clock in the morning. He ripped apart his hard plastic liner and pooped in the ENTIRE laundry room while he remined locked up. He was so anxiety ridden that by the time we got home from work he would be covered, from paw to the top of his head, including his chest and some of his back in panic driven slobber. Yes, he had a hard year. There was a lot of changes and moving in his little life, but I can't say I felt all that much sympathy for him. There were a lot of changes in my life too, and I didn't drown myself in slobber!





The Suggs Family School of the Good Dog is beginning to fix all of that, thankfully. Grizzly still is only allowed in the family room downstairs (he rolls in dirt and sand and eats horse poop after all), but now he is confined to the garage whenever we can't be outside with him. Then, when we are outside, he has to be within sight at all times. Most of the times that means at my feet, waiting for his next command. We are hoping the plants bounce back...but more than that, it means he gets more attention. He hears "good boy" a lot more than "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He actually comes when he is called (I know, aren't dogs supposed to do that anyway?) . He waits by laying down, at ease, like he learned to do in his obedience training that was light years ago instead of me chasing him with the broom, holding it like a baseball bat (I know, you should be getting a mental image by now-make sure there are a lot of plants in your image).

He seems to be happier.

Don't you think he looks happy?

We'll keep you posted on his progress. But whatever you do, don't even think about sending us your troublesome pooches (or new puppies, Kayla!). It is a hard, straight line around here (and we should have been walking it a long time ago).