Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I Can Make It To The Fence In 2.8 Seconds. Can you?
I have a very friendly FedEx guy who is always pleasant and is always ready with a smile. Except the other day...
The white truck pulled up to the front of my house and the dogs, as usual, went wild, barking and jumping against the sidelights. In order to escape the din, I stepped out on the porch to accept the delivery. I walked down the sidewalk to meet the FedEx guy, save him a walk, and take the package. Suddenly a flipping metal noise behind me erupted just as the poor guy met me. Ninety-five pounds of Doberman Pinscher had just rushed the door, opened it and was bounding down the sidewalk, headed directly for the guy. The package was shoved abruptly into my hands and the guy bolted through the flowerbed for his truck. I have never seen someone move so quickly in my entire life. He was fumbling with the sliding door on the truck just as the dog made it there. Mason, the love of my life, stood silently grinning at the man, doing nothing. I walked over, took a firm grip on his collar and dragged the dog back to the house. The FedEx guy tore off down the driveway, never looking back. The sign obviously meant something to him. Needless to say, I don’t know if the guy will ever come back or if he will be smiling if he does.
Meet Mason – a German Doberman (not like the American Doberman because his head and body are bigger and more powerful).
I never believed fifteen years ago that I would ever own a Dobie. I had always heard how vicious they were and that they turned on their masters. Not a truth to any of it. Someone threw out a Dobie at our farm and there began my love for the breed. That dog has since passed and I, stupidly, got another one from a breeder of German Dobermans. Mason was the runt of the litter and the breeder didn’t think very much of him. I knelt in the middle of his littermates and he was the only one who came bobbling over to me, climbing into my lap. Well, he grew and grew, surpassing the biggest of his littermates. I have a small horse in my house.
Mason or “Moosey” as I call him is a veritable bull in a china shop. He lopes through the house, sending cats flying and all of my chachkas crashing to the floor. He owns the bed, sleeping between my husband and me. I have been awakened mid-air just before I hit the floor when he stretched his paws and pushed me out. He has no remorse – it’s his bed.
The other day one of my other dogs, a mutt who is extremely smart, found a mole. I never knew moles scream but, believe me, they do. She was tossing it in the air, playing. It captured Mason’s attention and he trotted over while I started running. I knew what he was going to do. Before the female dog realized what was happening, Mason grabbed the mole and swallowed it whole. No amount of screaming, “Drop it” did any good; the mole was gone…for a while. Later, in the house, I heard a strange noise in the living room – the mole was back, just not in as good a shape as before. Gagging and cursing, I kept wondering as I cleaned up the mess “Why do I have this dog?” He plopped down on the floor, obviously feeling much better.
We have been thrown out of three obedience classes. One occasion was quite memorable. A lady with a miniature Doberman (absolutely no relation to the large breed Doberman) kept bringing her dog over beside Mason. She kept saying, “Isn’t this cute? A big Dobie and a little Dobie.” I kept saying “Lady, if you value your dog, please get him away. Mason isn’t vicious but he hunts rats at the barn…” She didn’t get the subtle hint and a few seconds later, Mason was trying to swallow her dog. The trainer quietly told me that we had to leave. I didn’t get a refund either.
In actuality, Mason and all Dobermans are a very gentle breed (Yeah, I hear you, he tried to eat a dog – okay it did look like a rat…). They are smart, cunning and extremely loyal. As long as Momma says you’re ok, he’ll show you the good stuff in the house and let you take it. He tries to climb in everyone’s lap – he doesn’t really realize he’s big. However, if Momma don’t like you – you ain’t coming in the house or the yard for that matter. I once caught a guy trying to steal one of our tractors. Mason on the job – he chased the guy over the first fence and by the time the guy hit the second one, Mason had nailed him. He came back grinning with blue jean material in his mouth. Oh, yeah, if Momma don’t like you…
So, do you have a pet who owns the house, the yard and everyone in them? Tell me your “baby” stories. Mason needs a play date; he’s bored with chasing the cats and the horses and everything else that moves.