No Kisses for Me?

I am the mother of Otto, a three year, 21 day old, Male, 118 lb, divinely handsome, Anatolian Shepherd dog.

Taking it back to the beginning of our relationship, Otto was a grumpy puppy and my husband was a grumpy puppy owner. I was simply ill prepared for "the anatolian experience." For a very long two years, the two of them never got along. Given the opportunity to speak, Otto would have gladly told him to "leave." Countless books, private trainers, expert advice, skinned knees and tears later, he has become a remarkable friend. He being my husband and he also being Otto.

Anatolians are very large, independent, guardian dogs. In Turkey, they are guardians of their flocks and appear happiest when performing guard like duties. I relocated Otto at 8 weeks from a lovely farm in Florida to an apartment in bad neighborhood in Chicago.

As a puppy, Otto was not an affectionate animal. Still isn't. He preferred not to be touched unless HE chose to be touched. He did sleep next to my side of the bed every night with my hand dangling from the bed to his back. I fed him, walked him, cleaned his ears, and admired him every day. It was a one sided love affair. No sign of visible appreciation, not one kiss ever came from him. I figured he didn't like me. I remember saying to him, you have a job to do just like I have to work a job. You may not like it but that is the best you can do for now.

From the beginning I was in charge of his upbringing. I can remember the breeder saying early on that Anatolians have a 6th sense, that he would "understand his job." I didn't understand what she was saying. I just wanted a protective animal, something that would have my back...as they say.

At 10 weeks old, Otto was not tall enough to look out of the windows in our apartment but still he would check each one as if he was on window patrol. Housebreaking him was a breeze, by the time he was 3 months and his bladder was strong enough to have some degree of control, he was standing by the door with a very distinct "need to go out now" look.

Fast forward, when Otto turned around 2 years old, he started doing a wierd crouching tiger move as soon as he was outside of our apartment when anyone unseemly approached me. Then he started displaying his strength, his teeth and his 6th sense by laying down on the sidewalk when no one was around....It was creepy watching Otto. He would make himself like a dead weight if you tried to move him along but 15 seconds later like clockwork, someone unseemly would round the corner. I wanted a guard dog, I got one. I whispered to him as a young puppy that I felt afraid of this and afraid of that. At 2 years old, Otto began to recall my words in perfect detail. Taking him out 4 times a days became a very long process and it was becoming dangerous. I purchased a muzzle. I purchased a larger prong collar. I purchased a harness. He looked like Hannibal Lecter! For the sleezy bar across from our apartment, Otto and I became a source of tireless amusement. I was in trouble.

I went to an "expert" in aggressive dogs and took her two complete classes. The first 10 minutes of our meeting she told me that I HAD to neuter Otto tomorrow or today if they could take us. She said "Bottom line, he was over stimulated from all of the stresses living in a big city combined with his hormones kicking in, he really didn't know if he should hump or bite." She went on to say that by relying so much on him to "protect me" from the world that he was turned into a four legged stressed out horny basket case. I had failed to be the "leader of the pack." I neutered him within a few days, Otto never knew the difference. I cried, he didn't. I wanted to get him nuticles (fake testicles) but decided against it. He did stop trying to mount other dogs but there was really no big difference in his behavior. Now he was just a nutless crouching tiger.

We enrolled in the "expert's classes." By the end of the 9th week, she recommended some version of Doggie prozac for Otto...mumbled something about Otto being "off the chart." The 16th week, we were all getting tired of Otto's "20 minute Time outs" in her classroom (at $50.00/hour) and my husband said, "let's go...this isn't helpful for any of us and it is expensive, we can do better." So much for the expert.

My husband made peace with Otto. He described it as a mental showdown. I never asked for the details of the truce. Otto's behavior was completely different when he was being walked by my husband, seldom as those walks were. He seemed happier, calmer, more dog like and not at all protective. My husband would bend down at any given time, any place and say to Otto," Gimma a kiss" and sure enough one wet cheek later they both looked at like two peas in a pod. I would bend down during a walk or in the apartment and beg, "gimma a kiss" and the dog would actually either turn his head away or get up and leave....how depressing. Why? Why can't I get a single lick, one small nuzzle, a quick paw...nada..zip. Kissless in Chicago.

Life changes happen, we relocated to a sleepy town in Wisconsin. Otto was 2 1/2. Suffice it to say that there is little or no diversity and no crime. Otto is like a new dog, still on window patrol but a changed animal. He walks nicely except when he sees a deer or another dog that he doesn't care for and feels the need to revert back to his former crazed self. Overall he seems happy. Everyone seems happier in my house. He has taken to sleeping in our queen sized bed across my legs every night. Still, "Gimma a kiss?" no way...why is that?

The saga will continue, every day something new happens. Wait till I tell you that I know that he can smell illnesses in people....

Gotta get ready for the snow, 7-9 tonight...I think this blogging stuff is like a form of cheap therapy. God knows we need a large couch in our house!

Best,
Otto's Mother