Postcards from a Dog

Jenny, my Catahoula Leopard Dog

Jenny was my problem child. The newspaper ad said: Free Catahoula puppies. I looked up the Catahoula and here is what I found:
“The Catahoula is the state dog of Louisiana and considered the only dog native to the US. The coat is merle or black/tan pattern. The head is broad and flat. The legs are solid and strong. The Catahoula Leopard Dog is independent, protective, and territorial. The Catahoula is not recommended for an owner who does not take the pack leader issue seriously. For the right owner, who understands the importance of structure, leadership, and exercise the Catahoula can make a wonderful pet. The objective in training this dog is to achieve a pack leader status.”

Basically she fit my bill: short hair, medium to large in size, and the hard headed part was ok (or so I thought), I had had Argentine Dogos and a half Pitbull after all. I am used to strong headed dogs.

And then Jenny set me straight on that one.

Right from the start she set the tone: no more relaxing, reading, or eating on my part without jumping up to see what was being destroyed by Jenny this second. She chewed her way through clothes, furniture, you name it.
And there was no talking to that dog. Jenny had absolutely no conscience. “Guilt” was not in Jenny’s vocabulary, trying to be liked by me was not her goal.

We went to dog training 101, 102 up to industrial strength dog training – as in 1 Teacher and us. This trainer finally convinced me of the beauty of crating a dog. It calmed Jenny right down, and my blood pressure didn’t go up on the way home thinking of what destruction was awaiting me this time.

And then of course with age came a certain mellowness. Say a 5 on the Hyperactivity Scale as opposed to a 10. She even developed a bit of a need to be liked by me.

Still, she is the only dog I ever had, where I at time seriously considered turning her in. What held me back was that there was no expectation of anyone else wanting this dog, or keeping her for any length of time. So taking her to the pound would have been the end for her. So she always got to stay.

And then we both discovered the magic of food.

As her weight increased, and her activity level decrease, my chance at a little peace around the house gradually rose. Somewhere below obese but above the svelte, we leveled out at a mutually acceptable level.

So the Chow Hound and I shared life for 9 years. Then something went wrong inside of Jenny, causing her enough discomfort to become aggressive toward the rest of us. I’m not into exploratory surgery, I figured Jenny was not either. So we parted. I hope I made the right choices for her in life. I will find out at the final tallying up.