Sir Bounce-a-Lot of La Mirada: aka Sharky
When I was 18, I decided it was time to get my own dog. I wanted a collie, but the boyfriend wanted a terrier, and thus came Sharky - sir Bounce-a-Lot of La Mirada - the white bull terrier. A bull terrier is a fun-loving dog, always ready, as the saying goes, "for a fight or a frolic." We named him "Shark" because, as a pup, he had a habit of biting anything that moved and would climb up an object (even if it was your arm) with his sharp little teeth. I didn't know much then about puppy rearing or dog training, and a Bull Terrier is not an easy starter dog! However, Sharky taught me book loads about managing and training dogs, and - as dogs are wont to do - about myself.
Folks didn't neuter male dogs in the '50's and '60's unless there was a medical reason to do it. So Sharky was a handful. I tried to train him using the popular methods of the day, which, unfortunately, were very coercive (choke chains, leash jerks, loud commands, etc.). Most dogs have mixed reactions to coercive training methods, but I imagine that of all dogs, terriers are least likely to develop consistent positive behaviors when forceful training methods are used. And bull-and-terrier breeds are probably even less likely to follow that kind of malarkey than another dog. It's also true that Sharky would have had a more comfortable life as a neutered male as he was very -- hmmm, how shall I say it? He was very ROMANTIC. Fortunately, we were young and active, and that did suit him. He got out to see the world, had lots and lots of walks, playing ball, fetch sticks, happy car rides - the whole nine yards.
Somehow that sweet and funny boy survived our well-intentioned stupidities, and, as I look back, I recall how well-behaved he was as an adult. The memory of Sharky and how patiently he waited in the world for me to learn how to be a leader eventually sent me down a long road of trial, error, and discovery, in search of methods whereby a dog could learn good manners in a human world and could develop reliable responses to cues, without harming the dog or creating distrust or fear.
Sharky taught me that we can and should condition the dog - and the relationship - with soul.
Shark loved to fetch anything. He even tried to fetch truck tires at the beach. He was one of those dogs that would pick up something way bigger than his head and try to get it through a door straight on, then get stuck there. Bullys typically go straight forward, not around, and they expect their power to get them through.
One day, a friend and I were walking Shark in the woods, tossing a stick for him to chase. This "stick" was actually a tree branch about four inches thick and at least a yard long. As we ambled along, the path began to narrow and the elevation mounted above a dry creek bed that ran beside the trail. Sharky fetched his branch and my friend gave it a mighty toss, but misjudged the distance and the stick flew over the side. Without a thought, the mighty bull terrier dove after it. Fortunately, my friend, fast on his feet, grabbed the dog by the tail before it could toss itself blindly into the ravine below.
Sharky White Knees, we called him. A brave boy, a funny boy, a true "party animal." A dog I have always wanted to call back from the paradise where he waits for us, and tell him, "Thank you for being patient with me, for teaching me, for letting me live with you, and remember you." I see him there, right across the bridge, waiting for those who loved him to join him and toss those golden sticks.
Winnie
Winnie was a mixed breed dog I found at the beach, a stray. She was very beautiful, possibly a German Shepherd/Australian Shepherd cross with her slim legs and plush coat of black-merle, white, buff and tan. Although I didn't keep Winnie, she was a part of my life for many years.
I already had a dog when I found Winnie, and with my mom, my sister, and a bull terrier sharing our apartment, there was no room for another pup. I offered the young stray to my married sister and her two little girls, but Winnie was a natural herder and chased the little girls all around the house, nipping their feet. As luck would have it, my boyfriend did not have a dog of his own and he was delighted to keep her. She was brilliant, sensitive, beautiful and totally bonded and faithful to the boy who took her in and kept her all her life. She was also the love of our bull terrier's life. She was neutered, so that doggy love affair involved only running, playing and snuggling - no puppies. Winnie lived a long and happy life and lived to be about 14 years old.
