A tug of war with a shepherd

I’ve had three german shepherds in my life.
They were shared between my brothers and I.
Don’t laugh, this is legit. The first dog was a hybrid shepherd mutt and my oldest brother, Dan, named it Hans-Chewbacca. John and I shortened it to Hans and we felt better about that, but after a while, it started chewing on everything, so Chewie took over.
Mom didn’t let us keep him very long.
Parents tend to do that when they have kids to corral. Dogs need our love, but they need our discipline, too.
Then, when we got into our home, we got another shepherd mix. Again don’t laugh, but we named this one Snuggles. And the way she grew up, she earned the name.
She lived a good life in the backyard. We bought her a full-size dog house and brought her in at night. My brother would hide cases of beer in the back of the dog house because we were the only ones that tended to her.
It was actually genius. In the winter, that was cold beer. I didn’t work so hard to hide mine.
Her hips went bad and we had to put her down after about 12 years.
After a year or so of grieving, we got another more shepherd-looking mix and named her Brandy.
We knew Brandy was more shepherd when she pinned a dude up against our fridge when he playfully grabbed my brother in a headlock. Brandy jumped at him and he backed up. She had both front paws on his chest, barking hard. He said, “Get her off, Get her off”.
“Nope, keep your hands off.” I didn’t even look up from the card game we were playing.
Brandy had a seizure at some point and went downhill from there but, she had a good 12 to 13 years, too.
So that brings us to today’s topic with a little insight into the idiocy of four brothers and dogs.
My brother now has a full purebred German Shepherd named Willow. She’s black, gray, and white and a beautiful animal. Most of the time I go to West Burlington, it’s to see Willow. My brother and his family are a nice distraction.
She’s a sneaky good hunter and his killed a few animals in the backyard, but she’s docile. She barks at cats, other dogs, and people that walk by on the sidewalk that she wants to eat.
In the backyard where she has 24/7 access, she doesn’t bark at all. She postures and her ears go up and, if there’s something inside the fence, it better be really fast. And I mean really freaking fast. She brought a rabbit’s head in one morning and dropped it on John in bed.
But Willow and I go for walks occasionally, or jogs. They’re short jogs. Lol.
But I break up her treats into nibbles and we practice commands at crosswalks and squirrel sitings. Squirrel sitings require a strong rotator cuff as she will go off like a rocket. She weighs about 65 pounds, and a full run can do damage. So we bargain with each other. She gets treats for not yanking my arm out of socket.
She’s pretty good now at sitting at crossings and looking at me for a treat. That keeps her safe. She’s about six now and full bodied. When we’re in the man cave, if you get up for a snack or whatever, she takes your seat. It doesn’t matter if she already has a comfortable spot on the couch. She takes your seat. Then she looks at you with this look, that says, “Don’t I look pretty sitting here.”
Yes.
I made burgers for the clan the other day and fried up some bacon for bacon cheeseburgers. I set the foil pan on the back of the counter and went down to cook the burgers in the oil from the bacon. After the burgers were done and everything was ready we yelled for John to bring down the condiments and bacon.
In the next 15 seconds, I heard him laughing.
“Where did you put the bacon?”
“It’s on the counter in the back!,” I yelled up.
“No. It’s not,” he said laughing.
Willow thought the counter was bacon buffet and dragged the pan onto the floor, eating the entire pound. She grabbed some steak strips we were going to fajita fry on the Blackstone in a quick swipe-and-run. We chase her around the backyard and no one ever catches her, but she lets you get close before she grunts and bolts in a poof.
I’ve wanted to get a shepherd of my own for years. I want a young puppy so I can train it from the get go, using some foreign language and ball training. I just feel awful about kenneling it, though. I like to travel more now and I don’t want to have to feel guilty about leaving the animal home. Not to mention that I have two parakeets and I’m not sure they wouldn’t, at some point, become a snack.
So, I guess I’m writing for feedback. Is it time to plan on not going anywhere for three or four years and raise a shepherd puppy? Jerry Hamelton will likely say yes, but I can always go to my brother's and play with the real deal.
I’m just not taking bacon anymore…But that’s Beside the Point.
Chuck Vandenberg is editor and co-owner of Pen City Current and can be reached at Charles.V@PenCityCurrent.com.