I never understood why people considered German Shepherds to be “bad” dogs. My grandparents had them when I was going up - they were smart, tolerated us as kids, but were *very *protective of their territory. That was a good thing - my grandparents’ old neighborhood was on a downhill swing at one point and strangers sniffing around the back yard were greeted with gawd-awful noises and a show of teeth.
Neighbors of ours got a shepherd they wanted to show, and he turned out to be very bad-natured, and they had to have him put down. Then they got another, and he was the biggest baby you’d ever want to meet. Unfortunately, he had a floppy ear and that disqualified him from their show dreams, but he was a great pet and their kids just loved him.
Then years later, I dated a guy who had a big ol’ red doberman. I was really nervous the first time I encountered the dog, since it was during the time that dobies were making headlines as “Teh Most Evul Dog In The World!!!1!1!!” But Rusty was another lovable baby. Sadly, Rusty wasn’t too bright. He decided it would be a good idea to take a snooze in the street one sunny afternoon, and a car ran over him.
My ex-husband’s family had a dachshund named Skeeter who was miserable. If you stared at him, he would attack you. My brother-in-law was standing over him once, looking at him, and I guess he held his gaze a bit too long since Skeeter launched himself upward and attached himself to BIL’s nose. What a bloody mess. Rotten little hot dog.
First is the time I met a cousin’s pit bull. I was a bit wary of her so I didn’t approach her. Eventually she came over to investigate me (heck, I was on HER turf and it was her job) so I did my standard protocol for a doggie I don’t know and offered her the back of my hand. She gave it some sniffs and then some licks and I figured we were okay and I started petting and praising her. And I learned why often pitt bulls have their tails docked. She nearly raised some welts on my legs from wagging her tail so enthusiastically when I petted her.
Second time when I was visiting a different cousin for several days. When we arrived at her house for the first time, I was wearing a ball cap and she warned me not to wear it. It seems her timberwolf hybrid was a rescue and a previous owner who was male and wore ball caps used to abuse the dog. So I was a bit wary (again) and pretty much kept my distance from the wolfdog throughout my visit. On the last day, my cousin had to go to work and left me home alone with the wolfdog. My only interaction with it was to ask him if he wanted to go out as I’d walk to a door and open it.
Later that afternoon, after my cousin had returned, we were sitting in the living room talking when the vicious beastie walked up to me and rested his chin on my thigh!! I figured “Okay, we’re past the tentative hand sniffing stage” and I applied skritches to behind his ears and such. The fur on the pup’s shoulders, neck and head was a bit coarser than that of it’s body. Anyway, after a while I got tired and took my hand away whereupon the dog let loose a little yip and gave me a look that clearly said “Hey, where do you think you’re going? You’re not done yet!”
I’m still trying to understand that in the US, German Shepherds are considered “bad dogs”; I know it, but it surprises me every time it gets mentioned. In Spain shepherds in general are considered great dogs for families with children and Germans are considered smart/highly trainable, which is extra points.
Lagun was just the sweetest dog ever, and Og knows there were enough times he would have been justified if he’d peed all over some of my cousins. That one time one of them pulled Lagun’s balls, all the dog did was jump and yelp - the three male cousins who’d been playing with him got sent to three separate corners until it was time for them to leave, which both families did with accompanying motherly speeches on “would you like it if someone tried to rip your balls off? Should I try to rip your balls off, do you think you’d like it?” (I think both of my uncles were still trying to convince their own balls to come down from their throats, where they’d jumped in sympathy).
The dogs I’ve seen most often on guard duty in Sagrada Familia subway station are a German Shepherd and a big yellow one which I think is a Lab mix. For some reason they are very educational dogs - you see little children ask “why does the doggie have a cage on his mouth” and whether it’s ok to pet him; the caretaker will let the dog be petted or not depending on the dog’s mood (usually by the end of the shift the dog is looking much more tired than the man).
A comic book store I used to go to had a female doberman, a rescue of sorts: they knew the original owner, who happened to be one of those idiots that think puppies will always stay that size. When she grew too big for the guy’s flat, they took her in. The store had a bit of a yard, but the dog’s preferred spot was at the door that separated the store from its magazine. This door was split in half, so it could be opened only on top forming a gate; the dog loved to stay there and look at people. If you went behind the till, let her sniff your hand and petter her a little, you made both her day and the owners’.
My niece’s late Rottweiler, Roxie, was a gentle giant example of a breed with a bad rep.
She was rescued at ~ a year old, weighing only 70 pounds (she should have been at least 90, according to the vet). She came into a household containing a young couple who were going to school and working full time, two toddlers, my niece’s mother and brother and a geriatric poodle mix.
She was instantly at home. She was gentle enough for a pair of preschoolers to roughhouse with and not even offer to nip. She would hang out with the poodle mix as her bud. Later, when a chihuahua was added to the mix, she mothered him and played puppy games, much to the chihuahua’s delight.
As gentle of a family dog as she was, though, should anyone have wanted to mess with one of her humans, that person would have had a face full of black and brown dog.
Old age began to take its toll around the age of eight. Her hips began to get a little wonky, she developed some skin issues and arthritis in her knees. When she was diagnosed with bladder cancer at eleven, the decision was made that when pain made her life unbearable, she would be euthanized.
She’s buried in her backyard, with a small marker. R.I.P.
I’m house-sitting for a friend - in the other room is a local candidate for doggie charm school valedictorian, a pit bull mix. A year and a half old, still puppyish. He likes everyone, and it seems most everyone loves him at first sight. Must be the wagging tail - pity that tail can’t be hooked up to a wind mill or something. Or maybe it’s the hazel eyes that match that match his tan short hair, or his white stocking feet.
He’s never growled any human, but he has growled at other dogs - or maybe just at frustration from being held back from running over to play with them. He loves to tussle doggie-style. It seems the other dogs know that it’s just play, but it can seem pretty rough, so I’ve carefully broken it up a couple of times at the dog park. He comes away with tail wagging, so I imagine it was all in fun as far as he’s concerned.
Way back in about 1994 we picked up a wolf-shepherd mix [an illegal 7/8 wolf the breeder had been using to put the wolf configuration back in] who was 7 years old but beautifully socialized. My goddaughters used to ride him like a pony and roll around on the floor with him. When we got our first run of turkey chicks, one managed to get out of the little warming space we had for them and fell onto his bedding under the table, He snuggled the turkey overnight until we all woke up and the little thing imprinted on him and would follow him around until he turned into thanksgiving dinner. We took care to slaughter the turkey while Luke was at the vet but when he came home he spent about a week looking for him every time he was out in the yard and fields.
We had him for about 8 more years, which totally surprised our vet, he should have died at least 5 years previously [larger breeds die younger than smaller breeds] but he managed to not have any real health issues until about the last year when he went downhill really fast - he ended up with lung cancer of all things.
He was missed by everybody in the area - I used to take he and Blue the shepherd-husky mix out with me in the scout - we ran a 10 foot long rope with a clip at each end through the eyebolt that kept the spare tire in the back and wedged a 5 qt cookpot between the back of the front seat and the lip that would be under the back seat if it had been installed and run errands. We had taken the roof of the scout off and generally you would see Llugh and Blue with their heads stuck out from the back end with their noses in the breeze snarfling for any interesting smells being ramjetted into their faces. Their treat would be a McDonalds hamburger and fries each.
I bought Llugh an SCA membership of his very own. I took him to a fall event and we fed him the leftovers off the table after asking everybody at the table if we could. Someone bitched. So the next year we bought him his own feast, and fed him that. They complained again. So we bought him his own membership, and his own feast seat and they complained yet again. I bitched them out and they finally stopped. I still get wistful every time I get mail for him, apparently the SCA sold off their membership list or something. He loved going to events, meeting people and all the interesting smells.
My roommate has a pit mix and she’s truly the sweetest, meekest dog I’ve ever known. She was found as a pup, half-dead on a sandbar in the Mississippi River. Her human is a kind, gentle soul with infinite patience and she’s made a lot of progress trusting people, but she’s still really passive. She also loves cats to distraction.
I have a chihuahua that’s friendly and doesn’t yap at shadows or bite.
Sadly, I’ve known several mean dachshunds. You’d never think anything that cute could be so ill-tempered. My guess is that since in their genes they were built to go down holes and kill badgers twice their size, some dachshunds just want to kick the crap out of something every once in a while, no matter how big it is.
I’m just glad my Staffordshire bitch is making it through her 17th year with my youngest daughter around to experience her. Her littermate brother passed away before she was born (2y ago), so she’s been lonely, but now my daughter is a toddler she gets more playtime - she’s really super-patient about the hugs and loving, never even growls at getting her ears pulled. But I doubt she’s making it to Christmas - mostly blind, deaf, lumpy and quite senile.
I **am **a cat lover. I was just curious. I’m curious about everything.
Well, not sports.
Well, not sports or video games.
Well, not sports, video games, or Dungeons & Dragons.
Well, not sports, video games, Dungeons & Dragons, or lesbian porn.
I’m curious about everything but those for things. But what specifically prompted this thread was a large and superficially vicious German shepherd I regularly encounter when I’m out walking. Its owners have a fenced back yard, but the dog is not kept there; it’s kept chained outside the fence, and every time someone walks by gets agitated and lunges to the length of the chain. They also don’t seem to make any provisions for the dog during rain; I’ve driven by that several times when it was raining hard and seen in the same place, completely unsheltered, and I always think, “Damn, I hate dogs, and I STILL wouldn’t do that to it.” That got me wondering whether this dog was bad-tempered by nature or simply because of its asshole owners, and well, the rest is history.
I have been owned by three Rottweilers over the years. Sweetest dogs on earth.
The first, BJ, was a rescue; guy had bought her as a puppy, chained her in the yard hoping it make her a mean guard dog. Ha! One of his neighbors commented to him about the dog needing a shelter. He told her to take the dog, he didn’t want it because, no matter what he did to it, she wouldn’t get nasty. I got her from the rescue group that the neighbor gave her to. I only had her six months before I lost her to bone cancer. She was two years old.
Second rottie, Cedar, I raised from a puppy. She was a Canine Good Citizen and certified therapy dog. Smart, calm, loved kids. The dog of my heart. I lost her to bone cancer at the age of eight. Broke my heart.
Third rottie, Ursa, I also raised from a puppy. Fun loving, cat loving, horse loving, people loving, food stealing clown. Great dog. Did not like only one person, who I knew had mental problems. Ursa recognized it immediately and would not let that person get near her. I lost her to bone cancer at the age of nine and a half years.
I’d love to have another one sometime but, damn, they die young.
We always had some kind of German Shepherd mix when I was a kid.
The very first dog I remember is Sadie. My parents were not particularly diligent about spaying her and so when I was about 3 she had puppies. My mom was pregnant with my brother so she was less than attentive to both of us. There are several pictures that my father took upon arriving home of me curled up with Sadie and her puppies, all of us sleeping in a big ball. Even while dealing with 7 puppies she let me use her as a pillow and cart the puppies around the house.
I have a 75-pound American Bulldog mix. She looks pretty fierce and barks furiously at anyone or anything that rushes her – including people on bicycles and little kids wanting to run over to pet the pretty puppy. I’ve had to step some children back and inform them that it is not safe for them to run up to a dog they do not know.
On the other paw, if my dog approaches you and you make the kissy noise or talk to her in a high-pitched sing-songy voice… the second you touch her, she will collapse on her back in a drooling mess, hoping for a lengthy belly rub. Once you’ve done that, she will hunt you down for more every time she’s out. Every time we pass certain neighbors, if they are outside, she launches herself into their yard/porch/whatever and will throw herself down on her back and make googly eyes at her intended belly rubber. Or she’ll go sit on their feet until they scritch her. I call her “aggressively affectionate.”
She loves other dogs, cats, and most people – except for little kids, which scare her because they are unpredictable (and the rushing up on her thing). She’s very smart and well-trained, so when she does misbehave, it doesn’t take too much for me to get her corrected back in line. She was rescued from a high-kill shelter while she was on death row. I got a trained (knew sit-stay already), housebroken, well-behaved, sweet sweet dog. She actually hugs you back. Fling your arms around her, she will lean into you as if to hug you back. It’s adorable.
I don’t think it’s an official designation, but it’s a truism. In the case of my county pound, they kill about 70% of the animals that come in there. I’ve personally adopted 3 dogs and 2 cats from that pound. One of the dogs was a stray doberman, very skinny. They weren’t even going to give him the 2 day “adoption” period after his stray hold, because they figured no one would want a starving middle-aged doberman. They couldn’t be more wrong.
