Inside Toby's beautiful puppy face, behind his bright black button eyes, they were always there, lurking about, ready to pounce. He didn't even have to nip. If one of those teeth  touched a blouse or slacks, there would be a hole in them after they were washed. Before long he was gnawing on any hard surface he could approach without being caught immediately.

The dining room chair.

The deck.   (Honest, I was just chewing the toy...)  Soon I had another problem. Mornings were so exciting for Toby! "After sleeping alone  in the kitchen, the lights come on! Ted opens the crate! And takes me outside! I get puppy food! And here Amy comes  stumbling down the steps, eyes half-open, obviously unaware of how exciting this is! I'll help her wake up. Here, a few nips on the ankle ought to do it! Thanks for the treat but you still look sleepy.  Here's a little nibble on the wrist to perk you up!" I tried to explain that this was not what I had in mind at 6:15 a.m. Frantic to make him stop, I could hear my voice getting high and squeaky. "Toby, stop that! OW! Stop doing that! All right, that is IT! I'm going to sit up here and drink my coffee and read the paper and IGNORE you! OW!"  My high, whiny, pleading voice was, unbeknownst to me, sending a message to Toby. I couldn't control him. Ted was the alpha, and maybe the #2 spot was up for grabs. The punctures covering my forearms and ankles told the tale - my puppy was the boss of me. I felt so frustrated, because I really did love Toby and didn't like the way I was starting to dread coming downstairs in the morning. There were other times, too, when he would seem like he wanted to push me around. A few times Toby even "snarled" at me, although that seems like a strong word for a tiny puppy acting tough.  Of course most of the time Toby was adorable, but we knew he wouldn't be little forever. I worried about where this puppy defiance would end. With good reason. Years ago in Maine we had adopted a puppy. We lived out in a rural home on a busy highway. I stayed at home with our little girls (1 and 3 yrs. old) while Ted went to the base every day. Clipper was sweet, but bossy too. He was a beautiful purebred Golden Retriever, and he was almost white. When he was about a year old he weighed eighty pounds. I was afraid of him when Ted wasn't there. If I tried to tell Clipper to do something he growled menacingly and bared his teeth. He loved the kids, but wouldn't tolerate orders from me. One day the inevitable happened - somehow he got out into the yard without a leash. Desperately I called for him to come, but he ignored me and took off across the road. He was hit and killed instantly.  Of course that didn't mean Toby's little rebellions meant he'd suffer a similar fate. Still, I felt uneasy about the way my relationship with Toby was developing. I started looking on the Internet for an obedience school that was not too far away or too expensive, and that would allow Toby to begin lessons soon. Cesar Millan was out of the question, but maybe someone closer to home could help me act more like a pack leader.  It would be nice to get my injuries healed in time to wear tank tops for summer! Next post: Our First Training Lessons

 Inside Toby's beautiful puppy face, behind his bright black button eyes, they were always there, lurking about, ready to pounce. He didn't even have to nip. If one of those teeth  touched a blouse or slacks, there would be a hole in them after they were washed. Before long he was gnawing on any hard surface he could approach without being caught immediately.

The dining room chair.

The deck.   (Honest, I was just chewing the toy...)  Soon I had another problem. Mornings were so exciting for Toby! "After sleeping alone  in the kitchen, the lights come on! Ted opens the crate! And takes me outside! I get puppy food! And here Amy comes  stumbling down the steps, eyes half-open, obviously unaware of how exciting this is! I'll help her wake up. Here, a few nips on the ankle ought to do it! Thanks for the treat but you still look sleepy.  Here's a little nibble on the wrist to perk you up!" I tried to explain that this was not what I had in mind at 6:15 a.m. Frantic to make him stop, I could hear my voice getting high and squeaky. "Toby, stop that! OW! Stop doing that! All right, that is IT! I'm going to sit up here and drink my coffee and read the paper and IGNORE you! OW!"  My high, whiny, pleading voice was, unbeknownst to me, sending a message to Toby. I couldn't control him. Ted was the alpha, and maybe the #2 spot was up for grabs. The punctures covering my forearms and ankles told the tale - my puppy was the boss of me. I felt so frustrated, because I really did love Toby and didn't like the way I was starting to dread coming downstairs in the morning. There were other times, too, when he would seem like he wanted to push me around. A few times Toby even "snarled" at me, although that seems like a strong word for a tiny puppy acting tough.  Of course most of the time Toby was adorable, but we knew he wouldn't be little forever. I worried about where this puppy defiance would end. With good reason. Years ago in Maine we had adopted a puppy. We lived out in a rural home on a busy highway. I stayed at home with our little girls (1 and 3 yrs. old) while Ted went to the base every day. Clipper was sweet, but bossy too. He was a beautiful purebred Golden Retriever, and he was almost white. When he was about a year old he weighed eighty pounds. I was afraid of him when Ted wasn't there. If I tried to tell Clipper to do something he growled menacingly and bared his teeth. He loved the kids, but wouldn't tolerate orders from me. One day the inevitable happened - somehow he got out into the yard without a leash. Desperately I called for him to come, but he ignored me and took off across the road. He was hit and killed instantly.  Of course that didn't mean Toby's little rebellions meant he'd suffer a similar fate. Still, I felt uneasy about the way my relationship with Toby was developing. I started looking on the Internet for an obedience school that was not too far away or too expensive, and that would allow Toby to begin lessons soon. Cesar Millan was out of the question, but maybe someone closer to home could help me act more like a pack leader.  It would be nice to get my injuries healed in time to wear tank tops for summer! Next post: Our First Training Lessons

Sorry, this is not the post I promised would be next. However I am afraid that by the time I get Toby's story up to the present day I'll have forgotten this particular incident!

Thursday night (3/22) was our second Rally dog training class (see I really am skipping ahead). We arrived in the enormous industrial space where the class is held, and another student's beagle puppy ran up to me. She jumped to put her paws on my knees... what could I do but pet her and coo at her while holding Toby's leash?

Next thing I hear is a throat clearing (loudly) and the trainer says, "Someone is peeing on my sign!" I look up and  it's Toby! He is spraying away, a nice steady yellow stream.  Is he jealous? Claiming territory? He doesn't even seem ashamed of himself. It wasn't necessity - he had just peed before we went in!

I think my face is still red. Incredibly they are letting us come back to the next class...

Sorry, this is not the post I promised would be next. However I am afraid that by the time I get Toby's story up to the present day I'll have forgotten this particular incident!

Thursday night (3/22) was our second Rally dog training class (see I really am skipping ahead). We arrived in the enormous industrial space where the class is held, and another student's beagle puppy ran up to me. She jumped to put her paws on my knees... what could I do but pet her and coo at her while holding Toby's leash?

Next thing I hear is a throat clearing (loudly) and the trainer says, "Someone is peeing on my sign!" I look up and  it's Toby! He is spraying away, a nice steady yellow stream.  Is he jealous? Claiming territory? He doesn't even seem ashamed of himself. It wasn't necessity - he had just peed before we went in!

I think my face is still red. Incredibly they are letting us come back to the next class...

That lick on Ted's chin should have been our first clue that we had a puppy prodigy on our hands.

Who wasn't entirely sure about getting another dog yet? Who would be cleaning most of the puppy messes while I went to work every day? Who would be trying to work from home while simultaneously entertaining a furry tornado?

Yes, Toby looked at me, all gaga over puppy breath, and headed straight for Ted. Smart, smart puppy.
Sixty minutes later we were leaving the pet store with a cartful of puppy toys and food, an ID tag that says TOBY, and a melted credit card. 


From that Wednesday evening until Friday it was the expected puppy chaos. That morning, Toby wasn't too interested in his breakfast. It seemed a little weird, but after all, the last three days had included a full round of shots, worming, and sleeping alone in a strange place for the first time. We weren't  concerned until Friday night, when Toby turned down dinner. Saturday morning he licked at his bowl and trudged back to bed with a big sigh. Hmm. I pulled out the broom and started sweeping right in front of his nose. He went back to sleep.

Have you ever seen a puppy when a broom is in use? A broom is prey! It should be nipped, jumped on, chased. You should never be permitted to sweep a room with a puppy in it. This was very, very bad.

I immediately called the SEVA GRREAT adoption coordinator, but went straight to voicemail. A few minutes later she called back. "Amy, you have to take Toby straight to the emergency animal hospital. I just learned that the puppies have parvo!" Parvo is a deadly disease. The lining of the digestive tract sloughs away. Up to 35% of puppies with parvovirus die. I watched a puppy die of parvo in 1980 as a a veterinary technician.

I grabbed the car keys, scooped Toby up, and made the drive to the hospital with him curled lethargically on my lap. Our new puppy had to be left at the hospital until - if - he recovered. His brothers were already there, and they were much sicker than Toby.

Toby might have been the runt, but he has an iron-clad immune system. We were able to bring him home the next day. Teddy and Taylor also recovered eventually, but they were hospitalized several days longer. Since the puppies were technically still being fostered,  SEVA GRREAT paid for all of the medical care.We are very grateful to this wonderful rescue organization. Many generous members responded to the appeal on their website for help.


Poor Toby!  What a week it had been! As we were about to find out, poor little Toby was a whirling dervish when he was healthy.
Next Post:  Those Teeth!

That lick on Ted's chin should have been our first clue that we had a puppy prodigy on our hands.

Who wasn't entirely sure about getting another dog yet? Who would be cleaning most of the puppy messes while I went to work every day? Who would be trying to work from home while simultaneously entertaining a furry tornado?

Yes, Toby looked at me, all gaga over puppy breath, and headed straight for Ted. Smart, smart puppy.
Sixty minutes later we were leaving the pet store with a cartful of puppy toys and food, an ID tag that says TOBY, and a melted credit card. 


From that Wednesday evening until Friday it was the expected puppy chaos. That morning, Toby wasn't too interested in his breakfast. It seemed a little weird, but after all, the last three days had included a full round of shots, worming, and sleeping alone in a strange place for the first time. We weren't  concerned until Friday night, when Toby turned down dinner. Saturday morning he licked at his bowl and trudged back to bed with a big sigh. Hmm. I pulled out the broom and started sweeping right in front of his nose. He went back to sleep.

Have you ever seen a puppy when a broom is in use? A broom is prey! It should be nipped, jumped on, chased. You should never be permitted to sweep a room with a puppy in it. This was very, very bad.

I immediately called the SEVA GRREAT adoption coordinator, but went straight to voicemail. A few minutes later she called back. "Amy, you have to take Toby straight to the emergency animal hospital. I just learned that the puppies have parvo!" Parvo is a deadly disease. The lining of the digestive tract sloughs away. Up to 35% of puppies with parvovirus die. I watched a puppy die of parvo in 1980 as a a veterinary technician.

I grabbed the car keys, scooped Toby up, and made the drive to the hospital with him curled lethargically on my lap. Our new puppy had to be left at the hospital until - if - he recovered. His brothers were already there, and they were much sicker than Toby.

Toby might have been the runt, but he has an iron-clad immune system. We were able to bring him home the next day. Teddy and Taylor also recovered eventually, but they were hospitalized several days longer. Since the puppies were technically still being fostered,  SEVA GRREAT paid for all of the medical care.We are very grateful to this wonderful rescue organization. Many generous members responded to the appeal on their website for help.


Poor Toby!  What a week it had been! As we were about to find out, poor little Toby was a whirling dervish when he was healthy.
Next Post:  Those Teeth!

I was devastated when our dog Kasey died. He was my shadow. We adopted him when he was 1 1/2 years old and from the very beginning he was just a perfect dog - a golden retriever mix who was not too big and very well-mannered.

But Kasey died of lymphoma at the prime of dog life - seven years old.

Kasey

We mourned him for several months. Clearly I couldn't be happy without a furry friend. My husband - somewhat reluctantly - agreed to start the process with the golden retriever rescue group (see Resources). First we filled out an online application. Then there was a home visit. The couple who came to see our house were lovely people and brought their own rescue golden with them. Our thinking was, "this will probably take a few months, and we want a 1-3 year old Golden". We were advised to agree to foster a dog first, as that would give us more of an opportunity to get a younger dog and the right to ask to keep him in the first two weeks.

Surprise! Two weeks later we got a call that 3 filthy mixed-breed golden puppies had just been rescued from a rural dog shelter in North Carolina. The SEVA GRREAT veterinarian  cleaned them up, but at just eight weeks old these puppies had clearly not been loved or cared for. The rescuers guessed that they had been kept outdoors. So the question was, did we want to see the puppies and foster one of them?

Ted and I asked for some time to think about it, and we were asked to make a decision by that evening. Oh, and would seeing photos help us decide?

We struggled for a few hours to make a decision. Adopting an eight week old puppy is NOT like getting an adult dog. Ted works mainly from home, which was what made the puppy a possibility. But the puppies were so cute. It was so hard to say no. In the end we just went for it.

The very next afternoon we were meeting the three puppies at the vet clinic. SEVA GRREAT had named them Teddy, Toby, and Taylor. Toby was the runt of the litter at about 8 pounds. Teddy and Taylor looked much larger at twelve pounds. Toby was also the only one with a curly tail.

How to decide which one to take? We didn't! Toby made the choice for us by crawling with his little puppy paws into Ted's lap and giving him one little lick on the chin. He snuggled into Ted's arms. "Awww," said the vet tech, "he's bonded with you already!

Toby at 8 Weeks Old

Next Post: A Scary Beginning

I was devastated when our dog Kasey died. He was my shadow. We adopted him when he was 1 1/2 years old and from the very beginning he was just a perfect dog - a golden retriever mix who was not too big and very well-mannered.

But Kasey died of lymphoma at the prime of dog life - seven years old.

Kasey

We mourned him for several months. Clearly I couldn't be happy without a furry friend. My husband - somewhat reluctantly - agreed to start the process with the golden retriever rescue group (see Resources). First we filled out an online application. Then there was a home visit. The couple who came to see our house were lovely people and brought their own rescue golden with them. Our thinking was, "this will probably take a few months, and we want a 1-3 year old Golden". We were advised to agree to foster a dog first, as that would give us more of an opportunity to get a younger dog and the right to ask to keep him in the first two weeks.

Surprise! Two weeks later we got a call that 3 filthy mixed-breed golden puppies had just been rescued from a rural dog shelter in North Carolina. The SEVA GRREAT veterinarian  cleaned them up, but at just eight weeks old these puppies had clearly not been loved or cared for. The rescuers guessed that they had been kept outdoors. So the question was, did we want to see the puppies and foster one of them?

Ted and I asked for some time to think about it, and we were asked to make a decision by that evening. Oh, and would seeing photos help us decide?

We struggled for a few hours to make a decision. Adopting an eight week old puppy is NOT like getting an adult dog. Ted works mainly from home, which was what made the puppy a possibility. But the puppies were so cute. It was so hard to say no. In the end we just went for it.

The very next afternoon we were meeting the three puppies at the vet clinic. SEVA GRREAT had named them Teddy, Toby, and Taylor. Toby was the runt of the litter at about 8 pounds. Teddy and Taylor looked much larger at twelve pounds. Toby was also the only one with a curly tail.

How to decide which one to take? We didn't! Toby made the choice for us by crawling with his little puppy paws into Ted's lap and giving him one little lick on the chin. He snuggled into Ted's arms. "Awww," said the vet tech, "he's bonded with you already!

Toby at 8 Weeks Old

Next Post: A Scary Beginning

I'm glad you stopped by! On this blog I will be documenting the journey I'm on with Toby, our Lab/Golden Retriever pup. Toby had his first birthday on February 9, 2012, and he was already a Canine Good Citizen. But he also has the nicknames "little terrorist", "sock dog",  and "destroyer of worlds". One of his first casualties was the cushion to the chaise lounge on the deck...then the wood frame of the fancy new front door...and the new clothes I had bought for my grandson. As he's gotten older he's become a bit finicky - he prefers to demolish new arrivals to the house.

You won't be surprised to learn that we started obedience classes early out of sheer desperation. Toby learned new commands in no time and remembers them almost instantly (provided enough treats are involved). I, on the other hand, am a decidedly slow and clumsy trainer. Every week in the first classes he made it look like I was spending hours practicing with him. In actuality, I was quite awkward on the rare occasions when I found time to work with him. But somewhere along the way I became aware that a dog as smart as Toby needs a job. Pet therapy began to seem like a possibility.

When I looked for a blog or website that would describe what it was like to develop into a pet therapy team I   came up empty. There were lots of places to get a description of pet therapy or information about the test or how to join an organization, but no personal stories about the journey.

Slowly, the idea of starting a blog like what I had searched for grew on me. Today, with the help of my blog designer and daughter Lauren, the Training Toby blog is officially launched.

Next post - how Toby joined the family!

I'm glad you stopped by! On this blog I will be documenting the journey I'm on with Toby, our Lab/Golden Retriever pup. Toby had his first birthday on February 9, 2012, and he was already a Canine Good Citizen. But he also has the nicknames "little terrorist", "sock dog",  and "destroyer of worlds". One of his first casualties was the cushion to the chaise lounge on the deck...then the wood frame of the fancy new front door...and the new clothes I had bought for my grandson. As he's gotten older he's become a bit finicky - he prefers to demolish new arrivals to the house.

You won't be surprised to learn that we started obedience classes early out of sheer desperation. Toby learned new commands in no time and remembers them almost instantly (provided enough treats are involved). I, on the other hand, am a decidedly slow and clumsy trainer. Every week in the first classes he made it look like I was spending hours practicing with him. In actuality, I was quite awkward on the rare occasions when I found time to work with him. But somewhere along the way I became aware that a dog as smart as Toby needs a job. Pet therapy began to seem like a possibility.

When I looked for a blog or website that would describe what it was like to develop into a pet therapy team I   came up empty. There were lots of places to get a description of pet therapy or information about the test or how to join an organization, but no personal stories about the journey.

Slowly, the idea of starting a blog like what I had searched for grew on me. Today, with the help of my blog designer and daughter Lauren, the Training Toby blog is officially launched.

Next post - how Toby joined the family!