Guardianship

I have had a revelation.

My walks with Otto consist of me being led by him and me pulling him. We have yet to find the side by side heel position that our black lab has so brilliantly mastered. Otto stops about 10 times during our 1 mile loop, sometimes he just sits down and stares. I always seem to be yanking him, tugging on him, yelling "Come on, Come on, Let's go." I attributed this bad behavior to stubbornness, dominance on his part and poor training on my part.

I was vacuuming and the vacuum caught the edge of a fringed throw. My immediate inclination was to pull back and turn the vacuum off. I got aggravated..and then like a sledgehammer on the revelation meter, it dawned on me.


The vacuum vacuums and Otto guards.

Otto views every possible occurrence as a potential threat, it is in his blood. It is his tradition. I didn't make him a guardian over me by telling him that I was afraid, it is ingrained in his blood to be on his guard 24 hours a day. When I am outside with him, he is on constant high alert code red status. This is his instinct and his nature. Fighting this reality is counter productive, it is contrary to the very reason I got him in the first place.

Maybe with a better understanding of his nature, I won't get so frustrated with behavior. Otto may or may not like me but one thing is for sure, he is incapable of acting any other way then what 5000 years of his purebred history dictates. When Otto stops in his tracks and looks around, he isn't killing time, his senses tell him that something somewhere requires his attention. It might be imaginary to me but it will stop him in his tracks until HE feels that the threat, whether real or perceived has passed. This is his nature.

I didn't grow up in a maternally protective environment, nor do I have children, so natural guardianship it's not a concept that I am familiar with. With Otto, I am just beginning to understand it.

Smokin' hungry!

Doesn't he look like he is smokin' crazy ? I have no idea what he is doing, probably being sassy because I wouldn't give him a biscuit before his dinner. I snapped this picture of him...He looks insane.

Speaking of smokin', I felt my husband's head this morning, he felt like he was on fire. Finally, mid morning, he broke down and admitted that he needed to go to the Doctor pronto, he felt beyond lousy. For him to admit that, I was thinking that we were going to medivac him right to the Mayo Clinic. We went to the local Urgent care and 62 minutes later we were in route home armed with some antibiotics to treat a sinus infection. Urgent care is the greatest, every one is so nice.

On the way home, in between asking me three times how fast I was driving, he asked me twice if it wouldn't be too much trouble if we stopped off at Culver's to have a little snack which consisted of Chicken tenders, large onion rings and a coke. ( I heard him say large.) This is not the request of a dying man, we are soon to be on the mend. End of that story I hope.

I felt bad because I told Otto that I wanted him to go with me to the clinic. He loves to go in the car with me, even if it is around the block but I got so nervous when my husband said he was ready to go that I shut the door and left Otto. When I got back, he was waiting at the door. I wondered if he was disappointed.

Nothing worse then disappointment.....Friends can disappoint and in that deciding moment of truth, you know in your heart that the friendship might well be over. Dog's can disappoint, several times a day and we gladly forgive them, defend them, love them even more the next day.

Bunny-mouse

People hunt in Wisconsin. I have found that when the hunters are not hunting, they are talking about hunting or teaching their young children about how to hunt...Even women are hunting! It isn't that I am against hunting, I just personally don't find there to be much sport in killing the big strappin' struttin' Tom Turkey that visits our bird feeder several times a day, feathers all fanned out, displayed to his harem...or shooting a regal 15 point buck that has survived the harsh winters and endless SUV's of Wisconsin, it just doesn't have any appeal to me...actually it reminds me of shooting a St. Bernard. I know there is tremendous sport in hunting, it just isn't my cup of tea.

Several months, Otto walked out in our garage and started sniffing the undercarriage and the two front wheels of our station wagon. (Ottowgn) Normally my husband pays me no attention when it comes to odors in the house because I am forever smelling something and complaining about it. He can't smell anything. I can smell a mildewed sponge from thirty yards out but my sense of smell pales in comparison to Otto's...so I joined him in sniffing the car. I smelled nothing, he smelled something and that was good enough for me, the search was on.

Nothing exciting came the first night of blood hounding in the garage except that our black lab was now feverishly snorting in the wheels of the car. However, the next day, I went to grab Otto's leash off of the hook in the garage and I spied three little black perfectly segmented unmistakable droppings in the corner. I calmly called my husband to tell him we had a mouse in the garage. He didn't believe me. That is so annoying, it makes me feel like a child having to explain the exact location of the monster in the closet. I showed him the droppings whereupon he started ranting, "Oh my God, Oh MY GOD, do you know how much damage rodents can do to the electrical system in the car? DID I HAVE ANY IDEA?? Why those little bstrds could eat an ENTIRE system...let alone the TREMENDOUS DAMAGE they can do to the under-something harness. Then he tells me that I need to go to Farm and Fleet and get two mouse traps, that he would go but well...he wouldn't know what to get and could I please go right away. I thought to myself, he can't go because his founding member PETA club card might accidentally fall out while he was shopping for a mouse rifle.

My husband is a member of every "Save the..." in the world. He hates women in fur, he releases every fish he ever caught, he traps spiders instead of stepping on them. He doesn't eat veal! He is a gentle soul, a protector of all life .....unless that life happens to be potentially messing with the wiring of his car. Amused, I came back with two of the quick-snap old fashioned mouse traps and found that he had already opened the package of smoked aged gouda cheese that I have been saving. Otto, like most dogs, adores anything smoked. He was sitting like a turkish soldier, drooling, watching him carefully cut two perfect cubes. Otto never ever drools. My husband looked at me and said, "You know, for their last supper I think that it should be a good one." Down went the two traps, one under the front tire, one under the rear. The entire garage smelled like a smoke house.

Otto hears everything, I smell everything, husband sees everything. Not more then 15 minutes passed before we all heard, WHAAMM! Otto started barking, hackles up and hauling back to the garage. Frankly, I expected my husband to have a slight bit of remorse for killing the little rodent and was suprised when he gloated, "GOTCHA!" Poor guy, he was one inch short of a gouda feast.

For a joke, we were going to hold the mouse's ears up like the hunter's all do when they photograph their big game and send it out for our Wisconsin Xmas card but thought better of it, instead, we mounted the remainder of one of Otto's most favorite stuffed animals, Bunny-mouse, over our fireplace. It is a reminder of fall garage hunt. To this day, no one has noticed it and it just tickles me everytime I look at it.

For a better view, click on the picture.

Wet noses...

Well, my husband now has a full blown flu-bug and Otto has been laying in the bed with him for 3 days now. There really isn't much one can do at this point and there is less sense in reminding him that he didn't believe in getting a flu shot so I will just keep quiet and wait for it to stop snowing. In sickness and in health... Cabin fever is setting in.

The weatherman on the news last night looked like he needed a sedation. Between the tornado's battering the south and the 18" of snow heading to our county, he was dewy with anticipation. We are indeed having a small blizzard, will try to post a few pictures later on.

Food Motivated?

Amazing what a good night's sleep will do for the sick...you know when people feel better when they want to eat something and give you a complete set of instructions on exactly how they want it. A bowl of Chicken Noodle soup with a few crackers mashed up, a few on the side with a little butter, a Coke with some ice, a small scoop of coffee ice cream, cause it would "feel good on his throat" with some hot fudge if it wouldn't be too much trouble.......

When animals go off their food it is a huge problem. Our black lab could be in the middle of a small seizure and have one foot in a steel trap and still have it in him to take a biscuit. Otto is quite the opposite, he is not food motivated in the least. When he was a puppy, I had to mix his food up with all kinds of yummy things just to get him to eat a small bit of it. I tried all kinds of food without much luck until finally one day, he just started eating. I think he was about 2 years old. Otto now enjoys a type of Holistic Chicken dog food with a bit of boiled, skinless, boneless, organic, free roaming and happy, chicken breast which sends his breeder into laughing fits.

Suits me that Otto isn't food motivated, I don't need another food motivated, "the silver is over there in the brown chest by the door just don't bother me while I enjoy this whopper you just threw me" dog. I don't want anyone else trying to feed him, or worse, tossing him a poisoned steak and then heading for open entry to our house. Paranoid? I think not, I got Otto for a good reason.

I have confidence that Otto would not take food from a stranger ..I think....but now that I think more about this, I am going to have arrange a test for him.

Sick day...

My husband is sick today. I told him two months ago to have a flu shot but he stubbornly declined citing some "immunity" breakdown effect that the flu shot induces. It is up to him, he is a grown man. Now he is a grown man groaning. Otto has laid in the bed with him the entire day, leaving only one time to zip outside, do his business, eat his dinner and then zip back into bed. They are watching television together.

Prior to Otto jumping in the bed, he puts up one paw to see where a foot or leg might be, then he jumps over or around with extreme precision. I think that there was an exact moment when he learned the "paw feeling" technique when as a puppy, he jumped up on the bed at warp speed and landed on something that no man ever wants to have anything land on....He is now a very courteous Anatolian Shepherd Dog.

The snow plow went by three times , no response from my house.. Usually that would cause an Anatolian eruption. The house is somber.

Sickness in the house makes me nervous. It makes me fragile. I don't like it when it is an animal or a person. One time when Otto was about 6 months old and enrolled in a puppy class, he got sick. It started off with a raspy cough which he promptly gave to our 8 year old black lab. Within two days, I thought they both were going to die, it was kennel cough combined with the plague. I didn't sleep for days, lying on the floor with both dogs, holding Otto's paw, which he hated but it made me feel better. The coughs passed after a full course of drugs, both dogs recovered and we never went back to that puppy class, I assumed he got some virus from drinking out of the commonly shared water bowl.

I think about Otto, how grateful I am to have him in my life. I hope he lives a long time and I hope my husband will feel better tomorrow. Sickness has a way of putting things in very proper prospective.

Super Bed Sunday

Must be a Packers fan......

Babby Otto....

When Otto was a puppy, about 6 months old, a Italian bistro opened up next to our home in Chicago. Several times a day the handsome trio of Italian men would stand outside of their restaurant and smoke like chimneys for about 20 minutes. One day, the older Italian fellow, who no speaka english, saw us walking down the street and came out to meet my puppy. He asked, "What-ha his name?" I said, "His name is Otto," and with that he put his hands up in the air and said, "Babby Otto!"

From that day on, every time he saw us, no matter how many people were eating outside on the sidewalk tables, he would say in a loud voice, "Babby Otto!" and Otto would drag me down to see him. Sometimes he would give Otto a roll or a piece of Italian bread. Otto loves bread more then he loves anything in the whole wide world. I think it was because his mother (the breeder) would give him bread and goats milk when he was a puppy. Must have warmed the little terrors heart.

Anyway, this bread and pony show went on several times throughout the day. There was not chance of an left exit from our door, Otto headed right down to "Babby Otto" land for his daily treat. This seemed natural enough, he liked the Italian, he loved the bread and I do believe he enjoyed the attention.

A problem developed in that "Babby Otto," (it helps if you throw your hands up in the air when saying it) didn't understand the concept of STORE HOURS. At 7:00 am, Otto would go hauling down to the restaurant. He would look up at me then look back at the closed door, giving the glass door quick head butts just to make sure he couldn't nudge his way in. Then he would sit....and sit...and sit....for what seemed to be an eternity at 7:02 in my "pre-coffee" morning. There was no reasoning with him. I would have to distract him with a biscuit and drag him away. This went on until the day we moved to Wisconsin and still goes on during the infrequent trips back to Chicago.

"Babby Otto" doesn't forget kindness.

The vacation dilemma

I can not comfortably leave Otto for a long weekend, or a short weekend for that matter. I worry about him to such a degree that it is easier if my husband and I travel separately which usually means, he goes and I stay. I know this is unhealthy. People leave their dogs at kennels, at Pet Smart, they bring in dog walkers, they have live ins. I will rephrase that, I can leave him, I choose not to. My heart is happier when he is around. This poses an unhealthy dilemma. Otto doesn't have alot of experiences that don't include my oversight. What if I left him and some one abused him?

One night last summer we organized an overnight road trip with several couples, most of whom had dogs. I decided that I could board him at the same place that EVERYONE else was using, reluctantly I took him there at 7:00 am. For the next 32 hours I did nothing but quietly think about him. I sent him psychic energy, I hoped he was doing well in what ever environment he was in. My heart felt heavy. Even my husband would look at me during the big "Overnighter" and say, "wonder what the Dumbass is doing..." I went to sleep hoping that morning would come fast so I could get home to him.

I should have known better when I asked to see the room that Otto was going to be put into for the evening and the caretaker of the boarding facility said that wasn't possible "it would be too disturbing for all the other dogs. " I should have run for the hills with Otto in tow, instead I let her lead him away.... I suffered more then he did I am sure. When we went to pick him up, there was a huge (and intact) Rot running along the exterior of the kennels with the ability to get up close to the boarded dogs...but they couldn't get close to him....I remember thinking, why was that dog allowed out. Otto must have been miserable with that situation....Turned out to be the owners dog. The only time that Otto has ever acted in a destructive matter was that night. He chewed up his bed which he has never done. He didn't eat his food and he was dying of thirst when I picked him up. He smelled so bad that we had to bath him in the garage. Let everyone else board their pals there, when I picked him up, Otto looked like he had seen a ghost. He looked shocked. It made me sick. I was so mad, mad at myself....I just don't think I can leave him again....

What do parents do when they have to leave their small children? It would be a nightmare.

Otto, WAKE UP!

I believe that Otto has the mental capability of someone who is somewhere between the 4 year old donut eating toddler and the 25 year old drug dealer on the corner in front of our previous residence in Chicago whom Otto hated. Otto is very clever.

On more then one occasion, I have yelled to my husband , "Did you see that?" (referring to the latest news on the television) only to have Otto come sliding into the room with full hackles up growling and doing his version of "roar, ahroar, roar yor roar"...some sort of unintelligible Anatolian babble meaning "I Am Gonna Mess You All Up -Who Ever You Are ...Even If You Are Not There ....Bring It On, I'm a Big Bad Dog, Bring It On!"...followed by a yawn and a quick retreat back to his couch.... This happens no less than 4 times a day in some form or another...Maybe Otto understands tones, maybe he understands words. I believe he has a clear understanding of most things I say, he is just selective in how he reacts to them.

Over the last two weeks, we have come home around 10:00 pm to find our 10 year old arthritic lab standing at full attention by the door and Otto, still paws up in the bed, or worse, with a dazed look as if I awakened him from his couch coma.

Maybe this sleepy little town has made Otto complacent. Maybe Otto knows that it's me coming home and that he need not get OFF THE BED or OFF THE COUCH to investigate, still it seems to me that it is his job to GET THE HECK UP at least and investigate ANY sounds...at least to LOOK ALIVE AT THE DOOR!

As soon as the weather warms up, I am going to park the car down the street and come around the property knocking on the windows....that's right, I am to have a test of our emergency broadcast system. I hope for his sake that he as least gets off the couch to investigate....

Guarding and sleeping at the same time..

Short of snoring, I do believe he is standing, guarding and sleeping all at the same time.

Click on his picture and it will give you a confirming closeup of his eyes.

Otto, the Zucchini and the Donut

Last summer, we moved full-time to Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. During the summer, the farmer's market is the highlight of my whole weekend. The Greek lady brings her homemade baklava, local farmers bring their fresh eggs,fresh corn and the bee man brings his honey. It is a social event and most of the town turns out to mill around. I thought it would be fun to bring Otto. Otto was almost two years old the first time I took him.

Two things happened at the Farmer's Market.

Event #1: The market had just opened, Otto and I were amongst the first to attend. I was so excited that he was there with me. I just love to show him off and this was our first time attending together. We made it past the organic produce on the corner, past the second stand with handmade lace and fresh baskets of raspberries and worked our way down to the third stand filled with bushels of corn and zucchini all neatly arranged on the top. As I walked by, I saw Otto raise his leg on the bushel of zucchini to the HORROR of the farmer. It happened so fast, I have never seen a dog have so much urine in such a short burst! The farmer was a good sport about it, I paid him $30.00 for the bushel, grabbed it and took Otto home, missing the rest of the market walk. I was too embarrassed to return and my arms were too tired from carrying an entire bushel of zucchini, I don't even like zucchini.. I really didn't know what to do, how was I supposed to properly discipline the dog in front of all of strolling families. If truth must be known, I sort of thought it was funny.

The second time Otto attended the market was the "donut episode." Otto was on his leash, a small girl about 4 years old was coming towards us with a donut in her outstretched hand. I remember seeing her waddle the way only a four year old can do and still be cute, I remember passing her with Otto close by my side. To this day, I don't remember how this happened but I looked down at Otto and he his muzzle was covered in powered sugar. I looked back at the little girl, who will had her arms outstretched but this time her mouth was wide open and no sound was coming out. There was no donut in her outstretched hand either. Her eyes were actually bugging.


I imagined Otto bit her hand off...but he didn't. I remember my face got hot and my eye's welled up, there was nothing funny about this one. He never touched her hand, he just got the donut. Thank you, Dear Lord. I apologized profusely to the mother who just stared at me. I think she might have said something but I blocked it out. ...I left the scene in lightning speed, pulling the prongs of his collar with my fingers (never a good idea) and threw him in the car. I never heard another word about it, maybe no one else saw what had happened. I grabbed him again when I got him home to further discuss it with him, and to discuss it with him again, and again.....the breeder was correct when she said, "Never overly correct the dog." I couldn't help myself, I would still be yanking on him, he made me so mad. It was unforgivable on both our parts.

Otto is now uninvited to the Farmer's market.

Now if anyone reads this and passes judgment just remember back to the first Anatolian Shepherd Dog that you had. I have made and will continue to make mistakes in Otto's training. This breed is very difficult and having dogs in the past in NO WAY prepared me for Otto. He and I are a work in progress. I am crazy about him but every day is a new challenge with him.

Otto and the "Power Nap"

I believe that Otto looks at the world in terms of what he wants, what he doesn't want, what is his and what can be his. Sometimes I think that his world must appear to him as one giant version of mine, soon to be mine and more mine.

My husband is dying to leave an anonymous comment on this blog detailing an event that occurred when Otto was a mere 11 months old. Like clockwork, every day, my husband would take a nap on the floor around 3:00 pm. A short "15 minute power nap" as he would call it. Well, one time during one of these 45 minute nappy's, Otto casually walked by him as he was laying on the carpet in the middle of the room and lifted his leg. I emphasize the word "casually" because I watched him do it. He walked by slowly and casually lifted his leg on my husbands foot and released a little yellow squirt.

I remember thinking to myself, maybe he won't notice. Maybe he is in a deep enough sleep that he won't even notice..heavy prayers...

Best I can describe and remember, It was like a slow motion horror film when the dead come back to life, sit straight up and start screaming....guess he isn't as sound of a sleeper as I thought, funny how he could never manage to hear the phone ringing during those naps.

Otto ran up the stairs, husband screaming behind him. I never went upstairs to see how that mismatch ended. Every article that I have read about Anatolian Shepherd Dogs has consistently stated, you can NEVER MUST NOT EVER HIT your Anatolian, it is not only ineffective, it can shut the dog down, make the dog mean, produce the opposite of the desired effect, etc... evidently some one in my house (there are just two of us here) failed to read as much as I have....enough about that topic. Otto never lifted his leg on my husband again.

Otto's unraveling....

Otto is preoccupied with my personal clothing. It started when he was a puppy and his infatuation has progressed. Whever we would have company over, Otto would disappear and then come whizzing back into the room where I was entertaining with a pair of my underwear...which of course was hard to explain...and even harder to get back from him. If I would get up and yell, "OTTO,give me that RIGHT NOW," he would start shaking the underwear as fast as he could, front legs down, rear end up and tail wagging. If I were to get closer to him, he headed down the hall, shaking his head, feet sliding sideways on the wooden floors. It was hard to be really upset with him....and he knew it. I learned to keep my clothing on higher shelves in the closet or in closed drawers.

The problem is when I travel... with Otto (of course.) He knows the old L.L. Bean canvas bag and at floor level, it becomes like a feeding bag for him, full of all of my clothes and undergarments...especially my socks. In particular, he has formed an abnormal attraction to a pair of socks that my sister made for me. I feel the same way about them and only wear them on special occasions. My clothes might be hideous but my socks are fabulous! These pictures will detail further the events of my last trip. I pretended to be busy in the closet with my back turned so I could grab some pictures of Otto in action...and to ensure blogging accuracy..

Hmmm, what is he doing in my closet?



Checking out the gooods.....





So predictable........





I made him "DROP" the sock by offering him a biscuit I had in my pocket (ICE) and snatched it from him before he could attempt to unravel it




Have you ever seen such great socks?

Sunday afternoon .....

Sundays are made for naps. Notice how he is on My pillow and on My side...I wonder what he is dreaming about.....

Mousing.....

It appears that illness isn't the only thing that Otto can smell.

For about 30 minutes each winter morning Otto , the guardian turns into Otto, the mouse hunter. He isn't very good at it. Our 10 year old black lab, who has been sadly neglected in this blog, is an expert mouse hunter which makes Otto crazy. Dig, dig, dig, .dig, dig, dig...nothing. Every day, with the indelicate pounce of an elephant, Otto revisits previously dug holes where the lab had success, nothin' here, nothin' there, all mice in the entire county long gone thru the extensive escape tunnels.

Today, January 27th, a cold clear morning in Elkhart Lake, 9:32 am, the world has one less mouse.

It was gross...

Otto the Whirling Dervish

As a young puppy, Otto would zip around our downstairs area, through the posts and file cabinets at blinding speeds. I was sure he was going to knock himself right out. His front and back legs joined together in a cartoon like manner and whoosh he would run as fast as he could going absolutely nowhere for about 12 minutes. A whirling dervish! Then, like a light switch, he would keel over, his sides heaving in and out, mouth smiling and tongue hanging out....until he fell asleep. This was happening on a fairly regular basis.

I became so worried that I called the breeder and to express my concern and I remember her saying, "Otto has the ZOOMIES!" She further explained that sometimes dogs will run around to wear themselves out, to make themselves tired. She was familiar with the behavior and unconcerned. Whew! I was just relieved that Otto wasn't insane.

Otto's breeder spoke to me about the "testing phases" to come.....and she wasn't speaking about agility classes. I was about to find out exactly what she meant... A good breeder is a wealth of information, never condescending and never impatient. I am sure she has been frustrated with me, a novice ASD owner, these dogs are not for novices and they are not for timid people.

So...after the zoomies, do dogs go into a deep sleep right away or do you think they have that period of time when they are thinking........I was short a quarter of cup of food tonight for dinner, the water was lukewarm, he pulled my leash for no good reason out of my mouth, where is the hedgie...............I'm gonna get the bunny under the lawn chair ...zzzzzzzz

A good nose...

Last week a tax assessor came by to look at our house. She appeared friendly and Otto happily allowed her in. He loves most women. As she went from room to room, Otto followed her closely sniffing her middle section. He wouldn't stop. I pulled him off of her and asked her if she had a dog. She said "No" and I got the immediate sinking feeling that she didn't appreciate Otto sniffing her with such interest and that my taxes were going up with every second he was around her. I took Otto into another room and told him to stay. Two seconds later, Otto, aka "Naughty" trotted over to the assessor again, sniffing her midsection with intent. I could tell it became uncomfortable for her, so I led Otto into another room and closed the door.

I bet that there is something wrong with that woman's health. Otto can smell and pinpoint abnormalities. I have seen him do it twice before, once with a dog and once with a prospective housekeeper.

She is the one that needs some assessing.....how could I ever tell her that? No one would ever believe it.

Otto's Vanity

I have read numerous articles claiming that Anatolian Shepherd Dogs can tolerate extreme temperatures and this attribute makes them well suited for guarding livestock in different regions.

Well I am not sure that this is entirely true. It was about 15 below this morning and by the time he reached the end of our short driveway, Otto had already lifted his leg three times and was in complete turn around mode back to the garage door....I reminded him that he had more business to tend to and that he wasn't going back home.

I also remember that last summer it was about 85 to 95 degrees for 3 days in a row. On more then one occasion, Otto has made it to the end of the drive way and simply stopped, looking exhausted and over heated, he turned back towards the door.

I know that Anatolians can acclimate to the climates that they reside in but Otto doesn't seem to be one of them, nor am I for that matter. I prefer the heat at 68 degrees in the winter and the air conditioning about the same on those hot summer days. I hate being hot and I hate being cold. So does Otto. He likes to be comfortable.

The Tail End...

I love the way it curls

Deer-mobiles!

So much snow, must have had a foot overnight!

During a walk about 4 weeks ago, a hunter who lives down the street passed by with a huge buck hanging off the back of his pickup truck. My husband, Otto and I were out for our afternoon walk. Otto started barking, sniffing the air, growling and hauling with all his might after the truck. Problem #1. My husband yelled, "Can my dog see your deer?" and the neighbor politely agreed. Problem #2. Otto had never seen a deer up close and personal. He has seen them at the bird feeder in our back yard, he has seen them in fields from afar and no doubt he has dreamt of them and the dastardly things he would like to them. Otto's reaction was predictable. Crouching, growling, approaching with caution he licked the deer's neck. The hunter never got out of his pickup and in about 30 seconds said to us, "Gotta go!" and started moving down the road. I can only describe the look that Otto had on his face when the truck started moving as "beyond startled." I imagine he preferred it when he thought the deer was a harmless hairy smelly unresponsive beast but when the truck started moving away with the deer, Otto let out his canine howling version of "OH SH_T!" I attempted to calm him, he was just undone. Not our best walk.
Problem #3. Now, when ever a pick up comes by Otto, which is about every other car in Wisconsin, he seems convinced that it is a deer either coming at him or rolling away from him. When he hears or sees a truck 1/4 of a mile away, down he goes, either into a sit or a crouch and will not move until the deermobile has passed.
Solution? Distraction by rewards works just fine when the trucks approach. He will gladly take a treat just at the point when the truck is passing, the problem is he will not entertain food or other distractions when the truck is far away. He just wants to sit and wait. He is smart isn't he?
Any thoughts?

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