Reuben

So, I sit here tonight with my dog curled up next to me. He is a mutt we picked up from the pound. He is a mix and sort of looks like Alf. In fact, he is indeed a mess. He has allergies, is neurotic, a long nose and bad hair -- in short, he's one of us!!

One summer day, bored out of my mind, I decided to take the kids for a trip to the dog pound. I decided after four kids, I was ready for another-- one with four legs and a wet nose. I was hoping to find a cute little puppy. Instead, we happened upon a medium sized dog with wire hair. His head sort of looks terrier, his body like a dachshund. The pound staff tried to sell me on the fact that he was a cairn terrier. Yah, right! The best way I can describe him is he sort of looks like those Tupperware toys where you can mix and match the animal heads. His head just doesn't match his body.

My kids chose him to play with of ALL the dogs there. We took him into a room and it was love at first sight -- for the kids, that is. I was not convinced. Not only was he ugly, he was 2 years old and not housetrained. To add insult to injury, he was named after a sandwich!! Against their protests, we left the pound. I told them we needed (translation -- I NEEDED) to think about it. We went to lunch at a restaurant next door. All through the meal, the kids begged and pleaded. These are not little kids either. Among them, my 18 year old daughter. This was too much! I must admit, I've always been a sucker for my kids, and this was no exception. I went back to the pound (against my better judgement), filled out the paperwork, spent more money than I care to admit on doggy supplies and left.

Well, true to my words, Ruben was THE worst dog. He marked his territory all over my house -- nothing was sacred; drapes, chairs, booksbags -- anything laying on or near the floor was his! When he was finished marking the downstairs, he proceeded to mark the upstairs. I KNEW this was a bad idea. We walked him, praised him, and still he marked. Not only that, he was a nightmare to take on a walk. He would completely freak out whenever a car passed us on the road and tried to chase it. Barking and pulling until he would gag from the pull of the leash (and I wasn't doing the pulling). He also was extremely possessive of food or any item he found in the house. He had even bitten two of the kids. To boot, he and I never connected.

My choices were getting limited. Either put up with this beast of a dog or return him to the pound. The kids had a hissy fit at the mere mention of taking him to the pound, and those big, soulful, brown eyes were starting to grow on me. So, I opted for obedience school.

I found a kennel in the area who trained dogs, even the most incorrigible. They would board him during the week and train him, and I would take him home. I met with the trainer who seemed very competent. I warned him that Reuben would bite if pushed to the limit. He seemed confident he could break him of that. I left him, looking forward to a week of no Reuben.

At the end of the week, I went to pick the dog up. He was a shivering blob of jello in his cage. What the hell had gone on during the last week? He had bitten the trainer and apparently, his Nazi of a trainer had chosen some sort of aversion therapy. The dog was never so happy to see anyone as he was to see me! This from the dog who basically ignored me for the last two months. I could hear him in my head, "Take me home, mommy, take me home!" I did take him home, and had real reservations about taking him back to the kennel. However, this was a highly recommended place, and I thought that all the people who recommended them, including my vet, couldn't be wrong. And surely they would not commit acts of animal abuse for fear the ASPCA would get all over them.

I decided, against my better judgement, to return the following Monday. After dragging the dog into the place, I went over the week's plan with the trainer and felt slightly better. That week, when I went to pick up Reuben, he was not a blubbering mess. In fact, he seemed slightly more confident. I worked with him over the week-end and saw some signs of improvement. Perhaps there was hope for this mess of a dog.

At the end of the third week, he wasn't perfect but he was better. I paid the kennel a king's ransom for the training and took Reuben home. I worked with him for several weeks, but after a week or so, he began to revert to his obnoxious ways. I decided to take him back to doggy boot camp. He went through three more weeks of training. Each week, I could see a little improvement. He was finally ready to come home for good. I'd spent more money on him than if I'd have bought a show dog -- at least with that, I'd have had a return on my investment!!

Although he was still far from perfect, he was potty trained. He no longer marked my house, although personally, I thinks it's because there was nothing left to mark. And he liked the great outdoors.

Fast forward two years. Reuben now goes in his crate on command, stands at the door when he needs to go out, and is basically a very cuddly dog. He will even let us take away things that he may inadvertently grab without fear of death. Yes, we do have a couple of war wounds from when we woke him up. Unfortunately, that old saying, "let a sleeping dog lie" is true with him. I guess we can't all be perfect. He cries when my son, his favorite human, goes out with his friends. However, he will tolerate me as a close second. Perhaps it has something to do with the beef stew I throw over his food?

We are buddies now. He is part of our family. Some days, when the world around you sucks, your kids are fighting, and you just want to crawl in a hole, there's just nothing better than coming home to his wagging tail and his jumping on you with those little paws of his, as if to say, "I'm SO glad you're home!" I never thought I'd say it but, "I love you, Reuben!" Welcome home!!