Eugene

The last post was supposed to be a blog about dog training and my little "beagle on stilts" Gabriela.  But once I began talking about Gracie, the post took it's own path, so I went with what was apparently on my mind.  


So I'll continue and segue my way towards Gabby.  

Eugene is our 2nd dogchild.  He is a huge mass of hairy mutt with the biggest head you could possibly fit onto his body.  His droopy eyes are so sweet and friendly.  He's the Mama's Boy in the family and we're bonded together pretty tightly.  I've painted him most often.  


Eugene was a rescue from the pound, aka Chesapeake Animal Control.  I decided we needed another pup for Gracie to play with and keep company, due to her high level of energy. (Boy was I on the wrong track.  Gracie didn't need ANY dog to keep her company.  She managed quite nicely to handle life as a loner.)   He looked a lot like her at first;  same coloring, long hair.  He sat in the rear of his cage and I went home in tears after my first visit.  The next day I went back and had the keepers bring him to me.  Poor thing.  He was literally dragged down the hallway as he wouldn't budge willingly.  He wouldn't lift his head, he was so afraid he tried to become the floor.  I straddled him (something I'd never do again to a dog) to pet him.  He lifted up his head and tried to greet me as best he could.  That did it.  I knew he would come home with me, but first I had to bring all the other kids out to meet him and see how they got along.  Since he sat in the rear of the small yard, and showed no sign of aggression, it was decided.  


Poor fella was afraid of everything.  I would stand in our driveway, leash attached to us both and walk to the end.  He'd sit.  I'd sit.  He'd finally stroll down to me and sit again.  I stood.  Walked to the end of the leash.  and wait.  Repeat.  I believe the first walk to the end of our driveway took nearly an hour.   


Same thing with the car.  Deathly afraid.  I'd put him in, drive down to the cul de sac about 4 houses away.  Come home.  Repeat.  Slowly adding in more mileage, I did this every day.  

Finally we were able to enroll him in puppy school.  Did Eugene blossom.  Wow.  Everyone loved (and loves) Eugene.  He was the perfect student.  Worked for praise.  He was so awesome our trainer suggested we consider training him for therapy work.  So I did.  
Eugene worked as a therapy dog for about 4 years, until I became too busy to continue.   He was an amazing therapy dog and still thinks his job is to greet everyone and offer his back for a rub.  Yet he'll protect me in a heartbeat.  I could go on with stories from his therapy visits, but that is not where I'm headed with these posts.  


Eugene is now 10 years old.  He is the poster boy for puppy school and what love and patience can bring to a fearful animal.  I don't know what happened during his first 6 months of life, and I think he still has bad dreams sometimes, but it's hard to fathom what he was compared to the awesome fellow he became.   (Thanks P.J. and Lisa Marie!)