Since I have already blogged about Sylke's back problem and subsequent recovery, I thought I should now put down how this marvelous dog first came in to my life. So here it begins......
I met Sylke almost 5 years ago. And I'm so glad I did meet this wonderful girl.
Five years ago, I saw a dog listed in the local paper that was at our local shelter. It was a beautiful black Lab mix - a big boy. After much debate, I decided to go see him and hopefully rescue him and bring him home. But when I got to the pound, he was being walked out of the shelter by his new owner. Disappointed, I decided to just look at the other dogs since I was already there.
There were lots of dogs, pretty dogs, many picked up as strays. And in the very back in a run with a little German Shepherd puppy was this very homely black Lab mix who looked like she had recently had pups. The fellow at the shelter said she had been picked up as a stray and they had put the puppy with her as she still had milk and they thought the pup would make her feel more comfortable. They estimated her age to be about 4 years old. This poor gal was nothing but skin and bones and looked like a giraffe because she was so thin, her neck looked too long for her body. She had white tips on her toes and a little cute white 'bow tie' on her chest as if she were dressed up! I petted her and she was a happy girl but I left the shelter alone.
But all that night, the image of that skinny, pathetic looking dog kept popping into my head. I thought, out of all the nice looking dogs in that shelter, that poor black dog was going to be the last dog adopted and was most likely destined to be put down.
So the next day on my lunch hour I headed back to the shelter to give the black dog another look. The shelter folks let me put her on a leash and take her outside for a walk. She literally pranced with happiness to be outside in the cold sunny winter air. She has a delightful girl and that was all it took. I knew this pathetic piece of canine was going home with me. I had to wait for three days to get her as the shelter veterinarian had to come give her a rabies vaccination and I had to arrange for her spay surgery and provide proof of a prepaid surgery. But the shelter man told me I could come visit her anytime I wanted. So for the next couple days I made the trip across town with treats to visit my new girl, walk her and get to know her. And on the third day, when everything was settled I left work early to go pick up my new girl. She fairly pranced to the car, hopped into the front passenger seat and plopped down as if to say "Let's get going!"
Bringing her home could be dicey as I had other dogs at home, a 14 year old ailing black Lab/Beagle mix named Peggy and a young bouncy black Lab named Ava. I knew it was crucial to introduce them gently to avoid conflicts and disagreements. So I brought the new girl home and tied her to a tree outside while I intended to go get the other dogs one at a time to do introductions. But when I went back out for Ava to meet her new sister - the black dog was gone - so thin she had slipped her collar - and she was GONE!!!
I panicked!! This was a dog that knew no name with me as her owner. She did not know the area or my house as her home. I called and called and there was no sign of her. I got in my car and drove round and round the neighborhood looking for her, for over 30 minutes. I was so afraid she would get on to the major road near my house and get struck by a car or, worse yet, be picked up by the pound again. I came home in tears, feeling a total failure and horribly sad. As I neared my house I saw the most amazing thing. There standing in the front yard was the black dog - waiting patiently. And when I got out of the car she ran right to me as if to say "Hey!! Why did you take off without me? I was just checking out my new neighborhood" We then proceeded with introductions with the other dogs, which went amazingly well and went into the house all. Her return to the her new home was just a glimmer of the intelligence that this scrawny canine possessed and a mere incling of the bond that would develop between she and I.
Once inside the black dog proceeded to run in my bedroom and jump up on my bed with the other dogs and flop down as if she had lived here for years. She wagged her tail and rolled around and was totally at ease.
The next day I went to work, leaving the new dog in a crate for her protection, and the safety of my other dogs and cats. I wanted to be sure everyone would get along well before I left her out with the other animals in my absence. And I wasn't sure of her 'manners' in the house though the night before she had asked to go outside when she needed to potty.
Imagine my dismay when I came home on my lunch hour and found she had literally worried her muzzle raw in attempts to get out of the wire crate and had actually bent the door back in her efforts. For fear she would severely injure herself trying to get out of the crate, I decided to discard the crate and shut her in my bedroom. From then on everything went well and soon she was out in the 'general population' every day while I was away with no problem.
All being said, her transition into her new home went smoothly, but that did not mean she did not have some issues. For one she had a major dominance issue - and would attempt to bully me and the other dogs when she wanted something. Also she was seriously food aggressive - the first time I petted her when she was eating she tried to bite me. I suppose being starved and having to scavenge for food had led her to guard resources. So, to establish myself as her master and break her of thinking she was mine, we began training. She already knew how to sit, so when it came to mealtime - she had to sit in front of me and wait. She had to look at me upon command and she learned to take each bite directly from my hand, at my command. If she demonstrated any aggressive behavior her dinner 'went away'. In short order she learned that I was head of the pack and would eat happily from her bowl with her sisters with no further disagreement.
The next thing I had to tackle was a name. Being of German extraction myself and since my other Lab had a German name, Ava I decided to select a German name for my new girl. I went online and searched names and after much debate found a name that suited her proud demeanor. That name was Sylke - pronounced Zil-ka. She learned her new name quickly. She went through her spay surgery with ease shortly after I got her and we settled into a routine.
Sylke loved to run around outside but her recall was deplorable. If I let her off leash she was gone, flying away in leaps and bounds like a deer carrying her tail curved high over her back. She always returned but gave me worry none the less. So I fixed a 100 foot lead that she could run around on. Her rope was never far from me and if she got too close to the property line I could easily put my foot on the lead and correct her straying. This allowed her to run with the other dogs who were trained to their yard and play without hindrance. This is how I trained my other dogs to stay within the boundaries of our property. And being the highly intelligent dog, caught on very quickly. She and Ava would have rousing games of tug of war with toys out in the yard and roll in the snow and wear themselves out with good doggie games. But I noticed something about Sylke and that was that she was always on guard. When we were outside Sylke would patrol the perimeter of our yard - tail and head held high, sniffing and watching, keeping an eye on her yard, her sisters and me. I would learn later her value as a guard dog; living alone it gave me quite a bit of comfort to know she was apparently a good watch dog.
Spring came and with it an opportunity for me to foster another Lab mix until he could find a good home. He was a huge black Lab/Boxer cross named Rocky who was pulled from a pound on the day he was to be euthanized. He was about 65 pounds of pure bouncy, nine month old puppy muscle and about as thick headed as they come which explains why he probably was dropped off at the pound. As with many puppies, he had outgrown his puppy cuteness, his owners had not taken the time to train Rocky and he was a strong, unruly mess. When I brought him home, I left him outside and brought the girls out one at time to meet him. When it came Sylke's turn, he made a bouncing leap at her and she chomped him soundly on the nose. From then on, until Rocky left for his new forever home, whenever he became too rambuncious, Sylke would discipline him, grabbing his scruff and putting him down on the ground till he simmered down. She never hurt him, but she helped immensely in teaching him proper canine manners. It was interesting to see as Rocky was bigger and stronger than Sylke, even though she had gained considerable weight since her arrival, but he bowed readily to her will.
Obviously at some point in Sylke's life, someone had worked with her. She walked on a leash like a champ, strolling next to me on our long walks every day. She could sit and 'shake' her paw. She was incredibly intelligent - more so than any of my other dogs. And it came apparent to me that she felt she had picked me as her owner. But as good as she was, there was still an aloofness about her. She didn't like to cuddle and never, ever gave me a loving lick on my hand or face as my other dogs did.
One evening I wasn't feeling well and was relaxing in bed, the dogs piled around me as they always did. Suddenly Sylke got up, slid up beside me and pushed her head under my arm. And we had an amazing cuddle session - it was if she knew I did not feel well and she was comforting me. Another time, shortly after that, I was in the kitchen getting them a treat and she bounced up to me and licked my hand. I never knew how touching a lick on the hand could be and I gave her huge hugs for that simple act of affection. It brought tears to my eyes.
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