Where'd the ball go? ~Emmett

Emmett loves balls. He even knows how to play fetch, a rare thing for a Great Dane. Our very first Dane, Lucy, almost learned how to play fetch. She would play after watching our lab mix, Buddy, fetch. Lucy understood the idea that chasing the ball was good. She learned that if she ran after the ball she got lots of praise. Then she figured out that if she picked up the ball she got even more praise. Finally, she discovered that if she brought the ball back she got even more praise. She never quite grasp the concept of “drop the ball.”

Emmett’s first human must have spent a lot of time teaching Emmett the game of fetch, because Emmett loves to chase, catch, and return the ball. He waits with anticipation, watching the ball, while I get ready to throw it. Then, he chases, pounces, bats the ball, grabs it in his big drooly mouth and runs back, tail wagging, ears flapping. I have to admit that I was stunned when he brought the ball back. I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. But, he managed to convey to me that it was time to play fetch. (Watch Emmett playing with his new jolly ball!)

Loki, my 9-month-old puppy-monster, watched intently while Emmett and I played fetch. Then he brought a ball to me. He dropped it and thumped his tail on the ground until he got my attention. I threw the ball. Loki dashed after it. He pounced, he batted, he grabbed the ball. He ran upstairs…ahh, Lucy all over again.

There are many different kinds of Great Dane sized balls around the house – giant tennis balls (Muse’s favorite), jolly balls (Emmett’s favorite), bouncy balls, treat balls, squeaky balls (why do the deaf dogs LOVE to squeak squeaky balls so much?!), smooth balls, textured balls, soccer balls. I learned about treat balls when Muse was a pup. Being both deaf and blind and full of puppy mischief it was imperative that I figure out how to keep her mind busy while burning energy or lose my sanity, not to mention the furniture. Treat balls were great. I’d fill a treat ball with liver or peanut butter treats, let her sniff the ball, and then let her play with it in the kitchen until she got all the treats. Then she’d take a nap, or at least be somewhat calm.

The whole gang was in my room this morning, lounging on the bed – Muse, Melody, Loki and Emmett. Muse was napping. Melody was gnawing on a nylabone. Loki and Emmett were laying down while playing with a green rubber ball. It was pretty funny watching them laying down and batting the ball, taking out of each other’s mouth…maybe they were too tired to actually get up to play. And then the ball rolled off the bed, bounced once, and landed by the closet door, which isn’t too far from the end of the bed.

The boys stopped. They watched the ball. Their ears perked up, their brow furrowed. Loki tilted his head. They looked at me then at the ball. Loki pawed the air. I could have given them the ball. But I didn’t. Then Emmett stretched his out long body, reaching for the ball. Not to be outdone, Loki did the same. Then Loki stretched out a little more than Emmett. This time Emmett copied Loki. This went on for several moments. Loki got to the ball first, grabbed it then realized he had a problem – his big spotty butt was on the bed but the rest of his big spotty body was stretched out too far, and now he was unbalanced. Loki has lots of experience being unbalanced. As Loki was struggling to get up, Emmett stood up, got off the bed, walked over, grabbed the ball out of Loki’s mouth and hopped up on the bed again. Loki was outsmarted by the deaf dog. In defeat, Loki climbed back into bed and scooted up close to Emmett, who started to share the ball.

The boys were unaware that Melody had dropped the nylabone. She grabbed the ball and ran. The boys followed. I followed the boys. Down stairs, to the back door, out the door and into the snow – Melody leading the way…

There’s just something about ears…

Emmett watching a friendly family game night...

One of the things that I love about my Danes are their ears. Cropped or natural, Danes have the best ears.  It’s hard not to rub an ear when I walk by one of them.

Cropped vs Natural

Muse's sweet pink ears.

Cropping ears is a personal choice; many show dogs have cropped ears. Some people think that Danes have pointy ears naturally, but that’s not the case. Natural Dane ears are wonderfully floppy. Muse, my deaf/blind Dane, tilts her head just right, letting her ears flutter in the wind. Melody stands perfectly still in the wind while her ears flutter.

Ear Wars

Melody melts when she gets a good ear rub.

Floppy ears are great fun for pups to catch. Once caught, ears make excellent chew toys. Melody, who’s a year younger than Muse, used to grab Muse’s ear to make her go outside. Melody would also play tug with Muse’s ear, which resulted in lots of ear first aid.

Ear First Aid

Just because ears are fun to tug doesn’t mean that ears are good tug toys. Ears are incredibly fragile, at least when being chomped on with puppy teeth. Poor Muse, her ears were bloody messes on many occasions until we finally got Melody to stop playing with ears. Ears bleed a lot and getting an ear to stop bleeding is more difficult than you’d expect. What’s worse, one firm headshake often causes the ear wound to start bleeding all over again. The worst ear injury Muse ever had was a big rip, which landed her in the vet (after hours) getting several stitches. We have a firm “NO EARS” rule in the house. When I yell, “NO EARS” every dog knows to drop the ear immediately. Fortunately for Muse Melody has given up the ear habit, but Loki still likes a good ear nibble every once in a while.

Floppy Ears

Gracie has the best floppy ears

Rubbing floppy dog ears can be very therapeutic.How can anyone remember the bad day (grouchy people, bad traffic, a flat tire) after spending a little time rubbing floppy ears? The longer I rub any one of my dogs’s ears, the more relaxed they get, the more relaxed I get. It’s like magic. Studies show that people with dogs are healthier and happier. I couldn’t agree more.  There’s nothing happier than floppy ears.

Emmett has that floppy ear thing going

Emmett likes predictability. He likes things to be regular, normal. My house is anything but predictable. So, like any other resourceful creature, Emmett created structure out of chaos.

Like most households in America, the morning hours are hectic – adult humans getting ready for work, teen humans getting ready for school, canines going to extremes to a) get their humans attention and b) prevent their humans from leaving while wearing clean, fur free clothes. My house is no exception.

At 6 AM, like clockwork, Melody goes downstairs to the back door…Emmett greets us with a “good morning humans”…Loki thunders down the stairs…Muse stretches slowly and deeply, then descends the stairs to join the ‘rest of the world’…Buddy follows at a safe distance. Everyone goes out. I gather the food bowls. Everyone comes in and we all go to the kitchen.

Once I open the pantry door, Muse and Melody go right back to their crates to drool and wait. Loki sniffs the kibble keeper, then goes to his rug by the sink and sits, briefly, before trotting off to his crate to drool and wait.  Emmett watches me scoop every single cup of kibble into the appropriate bowls. He escorts me to the dog room, carefully watching the bowls of kibble. While I pass out the kibble, he sits in his crate, watching and waiting.

Once the kibble is consumed, everyone joins me in the bathroom. They’re thirsty, of course. I have a decent sized bathroom, but me along with four Great Danes in the bathroom at the same time is…um…cozy. Muse and Melody are petite girls, each one being about 28-30” at the shoulder and weighing between 100-110 pounds each. They’re too short to drink from our sink, so they drink from the bathtub or toilet.  The boys, Loki and Emmett, are not so petite. Emmett is a tall boy – 36” at the shoulder, very long and lean; he’s gained weight since he’s been in rescue and is up to about 125 pounds. Loki is 35” at the shoulder, very long and broad, with a big thick chest; he outweighs Emmett by about 10 pounds – and he’s still growing! The boys prefer to drink from the bathroom sink – while I’m putting my contacts in my eyes or applying make-up or brushing my teeth. They don’t mind it at all if I share their sink space with them.

Then Muse goes off to nap, Melody and Loki go outside to bark at the neighbor dogs or play or zoom. Emmett stays close to the humans. He’s the biggest shadow I’ve ever had. He doesn’t make a pest of himself (like a certain spotty pup that I love). Emmett’s morning revolves around the humans. He follows me downstairs and waits patiently while I get my coffee. He follows me upstairs and waits while I get dressed. He watches me as I sort through my jewelry box and shoe collection. He wags his tail and smiles when we make eye contact. He follows me back downstairs, sitting by my side while I make my lunch. Where I go, Emmett goes.

The pups come thundering in the house, but Emmett stays by my side. I pack my bag as Emmett watches over me, making sure I don’t forget anything. Just before I leave, I gather up the bones and go to the kitchen. Emmett follows. So does everyone else. They all sit and watch as I smear peanut butter into each bone, then my pack runs to their crates, but Emmett stays by my side. I pass out the bones, kiss Emmett on the head, then shut the crate doors. He smiles and wags his tail.

I know that after chewing on his bone Emmett settles down to sleep. There have been few occasions that I’ve come back home after dropping kids off at school to work from home and found Emmett sleeping happily in his crate, snuggling into his blanket. His world revolves around the humans in the house. The other dogs are fine, but humans are the love of Emmett’s life.

Emmett is not my dog, but I am the recipient of his love and devotion. He’s my foster dog and for now my home is his home. But I know it’s temporary. Whoever opens their home and heart to Emmett will be a lucky human. Emmett will be loyal, loving and devoted to his human companion.  For whatever reason, Emmett is one of those special creatures who opens his heart willingly to those who are willing to open their heart to him.

My dogs aren’t perfect. They aren’t show quality. They’re not obedience superstars. What they are not is irrelevant to me. I love who they are…just dogs. Ordinary? No. But they are first and foremost dogs; bless their big muddy paw, that’s what they are – dogs.

If I wanted perfect dogs I wouldn’t have rescue dogs. If I wanted perfect dogs I’d be sadly disappointed since there are no perfect dogs. A dog may win “best of breed” and be a stunning example of a particular breed, but that dog doesn’t really care. At the heart of any dog is a dog’s heart.

My dogs are not the breed name by which they are classified. Right now, they are all sprawled out on the sectional, legs draped across each other. Hardly the image of a mighty Great Dane to be sure; they look more like of pack of mighty couch potatoes.

My dogs are not hunters, the job that Great Danes of the past fulfilled. They do manage to track down a ball or a bone on occasion, but that’s the extent of their hunting. But, when I leash up my dogs and we explore the great outdoors, I imagine them on the hunt – nose to the ground, tension filling their bodies as they search for their prey. The illusion is fleeting. A car passing by or a squirrel on the loose breaks the magic spell. But in those brief moments, my dogs are regal. They are mighty Great Danes.

My dogs are not humans, even though they sleep in my room and lounge on the couch. They are dogs. They need exercise. They need to know their place in the pack, which includes humans and canines in my home. They live in the moment and remind me to live in the moment with them. They remind me to enjoy a game of tug or a simple meal.

My dogs are necessary. The teach me to relax, to enjoy a belly rub, to growl at things that annoy me, but also to wag my tail everyday at the little things – a ball, a treat, a snuggle.

My dogs are my companions. They are part of my family, muddy paws and all. And though the life span of a Great Dane is all too short, I open my heart to my gentle giants. I give them my heart – they are trustworthy, faithful, and loyal.

My dogs are my dogs; my humans are my humans.  Dogs and humans are meant to do life together. I do all kinds of things with my human companions – play board games, watch movies, kayak in the summer; I do all kinds of things with my dogs – walk, play, lounge in the summer sun.  As a human/canine family, we love our yearly picnic with about 70 other Great Danes and their humans.

At the end of the day, no matter how good or how bad, I come home to wagging tails and happy faces – “our human is home”! My dogs are just dogs – actually, that is perfect.

I was sick. That’s my excuse – I was just too sick to be rational. And now, well, my pack has new expectations about food, my food to be exact. How quickly they learn bad habits. In the span of a few days they learned to sit, to beg, to expect me to share my breakfast. Or snack. Or lunch. Or dinner.  If only obedience training happened as fast.

While I was sick I shared whatever food I could manage to keep down, usually that was buttered toast. I didn’t share my Perrier-cranberry-grape cocktail, although I’m sure they would have been happy to share that, too. But the sickness passed. I was feeling fine. Things should have gone right back to normal. I was mistaken.

In the morning when I opened my cup of yogurt 4 Great Danes came racing into the kitchen, sliding to a halt just short of crashing into me. They sat in a semi-circle around me. They started drooling. I stared back at them in disbelief.

When the toaster popped up with my lightly toasted English muffin, I maneuvered through the pack of salivating Great Danes, through a puddle of drool, and retrieved my food. Forcing my way back through the mob, I made it to the counter and buttered and jellied the lightly toasted English muffin. I made my way through the Great Dane obstacle course to the table. They followed. Somehow I’d achieved super-stardom and now had an adoring fan club following my every move.

I sat down to eat. I felt a paw on my leg. Then, I saw the white paw moving toward the table. Suddenly, I felt moist breath on my neck as a snout rested against my shoulder. Another snout rested on my arm. I was completely surrounded. Four sets of puppy-dog eyes followed my every move. Drool began dripping off their jowls, landing on my leg, my arm, my shoulder. What had come over them?

I feed my pack every morning at 6 a.m. They get treats each afternoon. Dinner is served promptly at 6:30 p.m. Not a single one of them needed to eat – not even the monster pup who is still growing at an astounding rate. I ignored their pleading eyes. Loki monster, the ravenous pup, accepted the challenge and stuck his snout right in my face and gave me his sweetest, most pleading look. Emmett whined. Melody pawed. I refused to give in to their nonsense.

And then, Muse sat. I gave in to her good behavior. The worse the others behave, the better Muse behaves. I love this kind of peer pressure. Then Melody sat…a nibble for Melody, too. Emmett whined louder, but sat, so he got a little piece. Loki was not giving in…after all, he was the mighty Great Dane (pup), king of all dogs. At least that’s his opinion of himself.

He stared at the last bite of my English muffin. Then he looked at me. I ignored him. I reached for the last bite. He watched my every move. Who emerged as the victor in the battle of the wills – me against the mighty Great Dane (pup)?

"I'm starving!" ~Loki

Melody. In her rush to grab the napkin (she does like a nice crumb filled napkin), she grabbed the napkin and the last bite of English muffin, and then headed to her crate. Loki looked at me then followed Melody. I sighed.  Breakfast just didn’t seem as filling as I thought it would be.

I filled my coffee cup and reached for an orange. And suddenly four Great Danes were surrounding me…

Aren’t puppies cute? They’re cute for a reason – it gets them lots of love and forgiveness for all that bad puppy behavior. Puppies eat things, like shoes, couches, tables and power cords. Puppies shred blankets, socks, and clothes. Puppies pee on the floor. Puppies roll in pooh. Puppies jump up and bite. Puppies need obedience training. Puppies need frequent trips to the vet. Puppies are a lot of work. Puppies don’t stay puppies for very long.

In the past three years I’ve adopted three puppies. I’ve been through untold rolls of paper towels. I can’t count how many trips to the vet I’ve made with a pup. My shoe collection is in constant flux – one brief moment of leaving a closet door open and a shoe might go missing. And then there’s the extra laundry, the eaten homework (no joke), extra trips to buy MORE food because my little cutie pie is going through a growth spurt. I didn’t adopt puppies because I wanted a puppy. I adopted puppies because I can’t wait for the middle years.

In the life cycle of a Great Dane years from 3-7 are just the best. Muse, my deaf/blind girl, is almost 3 yrs old, and I enjoy her more each day. My foster boy, Emmett, is 3, and he is just a delight. Something magic happens between years 2 and 3 – the puppy brain matures and starts fitting the extra large body it controls.

Muse is a pleasure. She was an adorable, mischievous pup, but she emerged a gentle, calm lady Great Dane. She walks calmly with me. She’s patient when out in public meeting new people of all ages. She’s graceful and dignified. When she wakes me up in the morning she gently nuzzles me with her great, velvety soft snout. While watching TV, she doesn’t trounce on top of me, or play tug in front of me; no, she curls up next to me, head in my lap and keeps me company. I can trust her to be left loose in the house when I’m gone. She’s rarely in her crate now. She still plays tug. She zooms with the pups, just not as long and she’s not as wild. She learned to sit, down, and knows what is appropriate to chew.  Is she perfect? Mostly. But she does have this annoying habit of barking to get her doggie friends attention. It works. If Muse barks then either Loki or Melody usually go to her. Since Muse is deaf and blind that’s what she uses as a signal to the pack that she’s looking for them.

Emmett (R) - GDRI foster

During the middle years obedience training is more fun. Without the erratic puppy brain in full force, the adult dog can pay attention to the commands being taught. And the dogs in the middle years seem to learn faster in my opinion. I can work with my 8 mos old pup on a command and think he’s got it. But the next day, it seems like he has no idea what I’m telling him to do. Not so with Emmett. In the short time he’s been in the house he’s learned my signal for “no” and learned what is appropriate for playtime and for chewing. Loki’s been here since birth and we’re still working on those simple boundaries!

Our rescue currently has 3 foster dogs that are in their middle years. These delightful canines are hard to place. Most folks want a puppy or an adolescent. People pass over the dogs in their middle years and miss the benefits of an adult. I’ve adopted a Great Dane in her middle years. She was delightful. She fit right in with the pack. I didn’t know a lot about her previous life, other than that she was afraid of men. But she learned to trust men. She was a gentle soul. Her time with us was brief, but the time she spent with us was simply wonderful.

Rumor - GDRI foster

I’m so looking forward to the middle years with my pack. No more bad puppy behavior, but rather, lots of calm with a normal amount  of play, and that wonderful companionship that comes only with age.

Olivia - GDRI foster

Maggie - GDRI foster

We recently got a new foster, Emmett. Emmett didn’t really know what to do with toys and dogs together. So, I put all the dog toys away, getting out one or two at a time for the dogs to play with so I could monitor them and make sure that: a) Melody wasn’t bullying him and b) that Emmett was learning good toy manners. But I should have thought about c) LOKI.  Loki is so big that I sometimes forget that an erratic puppy brain powers his great big Great Dane body.  Normally there are lots of toys on the floor to keep the big guy busy and out of trouble (and sometimes it works). But, until I was confident that Emmett understood the toy rules, it was best to keep them put away. So, what would any normal puppy do?  Find something to do, naturally. But, what would an enormous spotty puppy do? Let’s just say that I had to go shoe shopping to soothe my soul and to return balance to my shoe collection.

Melody woke me up early on this cold Sunday morning. I stumbled down stairs and made it to the back door just before Loki plowed through me. Went to the laundry room to start another load of laundry. Emmett decide he wanted to go outside, too. Muse went to her crate, waiting patiently for breakfast. I started the coffee. Let Melody, Loki, and Emmett inside. Back to the kitchen, this time with the dog bowls. Melody, Loki, and Emmett followed. Muse waited in her crate – smart girl. Melody went back to her crate to wait – she is getting older and smarter, leaving only two spotty dogs to help with breakfast. Kibble scooped, pineapple added, a few cooked carrots and breakfast was made. If only it was that easy for the humans in the family. I sat down at the table with my coffee and a stack of reading, listening to the happy crunching of my pack. The day was off to a good start.

Muse captured the elephant

Five minutes later – “HOOWWWLLLLLL!!!!!” Emmett was finished with breakfast. But I had to get through this pile of reading today. I found four large tug toys, big enough for four Great Danes to each grab part and play tug – one rope bone, one three way tug toy, a giant jolly ball and a stuffed octopus. They played. They ran. They zoomed. They scattered ALL the chairs and the table in the dining room. They trounced. They growled. They howled (Emmett taught my dogs to howl, too). They chewed on each other, carefully avoiding ears (we have a strict no ear chewing policy).  I glanced at the clock. I’d been up for an hour.

My feet were cold, so back upstairs to get my house shoes.  I heard Loki and Emmett crash into the living room wall. I made the bed. I heard the sound of sixteen paws thundering to the back door. Then I heard the sound of sixteen paws thundering to the living room.  “Kerplunk!” That was the jolly ball being flung through the air and landing on the floor. Or maybe bouncing off the wall, it’s hard to tell from upstairs.

Melody and Loki

I heard the sound of teeth scraping against rubber. My heart sank. Loki. What had that dog found now. I was certain that all the shoes were safely put away. Three minutes ago it sounded like a demolition crew was in my living room; now, there was just the sound of teeth scraping against rubber.

Before going downstairs, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to at this point, I checked the closet. The doors were closed, but I looked inside anyway. As smart as Loki is I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he opened the closet door and helped himself to my shoes. The shoes were safe, so I headed downstairs.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak.”  The sound grew louder. The sound grew louder because two dogs were chewing on rubber. Dare I go in? It was tempting to ignore them and just head straight to the den and turn on some music. But, what if they did have a shoe or two?

I trudged into the living room. “What?! Where did you two find those?” Loki looked up at me, as if to say, “what? I’m not doing anything wrong!” Emmett didn’t bother to look at me at all he just kept chewing.  Muse was sleeping in the Dane chair, Melody had the pig (I don’t know how she got it – it was safely on top of the counter), and the spotty boys were lying together on the dog bed chewing contentedly on their Kong toys. I don’t know where they found the Kongs. I had given them up for lost months ago.

I left the dogs in peace. It was time for more coffee. And I had a pile of reading to do. I glanced at the clock. I’ve been up for an hour and a half. My shoes were safe. The dogs were quiet, except for the chewing. My husband and teenagers slept through the mayhem. Someday maybe I’ll learn their secret.

Dedicated to my black and pink converse tennis shoes. They were good shoes, comfortable, classic. Unfortunately, they were no match for the puppy teeth of Loki Monster, Mighty Great Dane (Pup).

This is my last semester in grad school. It’s been an extremely hard two years, but we’re in the home stretch. I keep reminding myself that it’s almost over. My family has been supportive and understanding, even the dogs. Well, up to a point…and we’ve reached that point.

It’s not uncommon for me to be working at my computer and for Muse to bring me not one or two leashes, but the entire leash collection, dropping each one at my feet. I have leashes for all occasions and in several colors, too – short leashes, really short leashes, average size leashes, long leashes, really long leashes, leather leashes, nylon leashes, red, black, blue and pink leashes. Then, she’ll sit and look at me. Even though she can’t see or hear me, she still looks at me. And she gives me “the look.” In case you ever thought that a blind dog can’t lead a normal life, well, you just haven’t met Muse. So she sits and looks at me until I give her attention. She’s losing her patience with our lack of schedule. Daily walks are never at the same time and vary in length. She does not approve, but she does put up with it and loves me all the same.

I'll just sit here and wait for you ~Loki

Loki has had enough of the hectic schedule and he’s put his paw down and let me know exactly what he thinks of grad school – and it’s not good. He likes things to be normal, scheduled, and predictable. I find that somewhat amusing, since he’s the most unpredictable dog I have ever had. I never know what he’s going to do next…and usually it’s not good. I’ve been told it’s because he’s spotty. I do love those spotty dogs, bad habits and all.

This morning Loki made it clear that he is tired of me being either distracted or gone. Usually when the alarm buzzes in the morning Loki responds by draping his body across mine, pinning me to the bed. Then he sighs happily. It’s gotten worse this semester. I used to be able to tell him to move and he would, but lately he ignores me. He’s testing me. This morning I didn’t have to get up at 5:30 a.m., so I thought I’d stay in bed until 6 a.m. and snuggle with the dogs. I did get up and go to the bathroom. When I got back to my bed, there was Loki…in my spot. Nothing new, but I had to drag him off the bed. Once I got comfy, I called him back. At first he ignored me. But, then I felt his snout nudging me. But I didn’t budge. Then I felt two paws on the bed. And then, he plopped right down on top of me. So there I was underneath Loki (did I mention that he weighs 130#), his head resting on mine, his paws resting on my shoulders, his elbows digging into my stomach – I was completely pinned down. He had me and I knew it. And then I felt his tail wag – he won.

In a few short weeks I’ll take a day and take each dog on a very long walk, starting with Muse. In a few short weeks our schedule will change again, but this time it will not be subject to the class offerings at the university. The new schedule will be normal…predictable, unlike my precious spotty dogs. Patience a little while longer, pups, we’re almost done.