According to one of the "Dog Books", the Belgian herding dogs which include the Malinois (short haired sable), Tervuren (long haired sable) and Belgian Sheepdog (long haired black) are "the aristocrats" of the herding breeds. ??
Spinning, mangy, emaciated nervous wreck?
They're well-tempered and stable; calm when needed and protective when desired; very smart and in need of intentional training to address their herding tendencies (especially towards small children).
I was skeptical but encouraged.
The call from the previous owner filled me in on Conquistador's history. Her brother had bought him the previous year in Idaho and when relocating to Seattle had been unable to find an apartment which would take the dog, too. Maria already had one dog, a Rottweiller, and her brother had persuaded Maria to take the puppy because "two dogs are just as easy as one" and this puppy was "a high-quality purebred worth a lot of money"...
Maria's young son fell in love with the puppy on sight and she agreed to take "the Malinois". The dog got bigger, more anxious about "control", reactive with the dominant Rottweiller and was relegated to a short, chainlink run in the muddy (Seattle) back yard where he'd taken up barking incessantly and irritating the neighbors.
The prominent ribs I'd felt under his coat were a mystery to the owner since he was being fed daily (ALONG WITH THE ROTTWEILLER) and all the food was disappearing from the bowl.
He had been wonderful with her son, though, and was famous for stealing stuffed animals which he'd nurse/suck-on when anxious. She urged me to get him his own stuffed animal or he'd steal someone else's... He was also known for having an especially-nosy nose with regards to crotches and human hands at work (keyboarding, feeding, etc.).
I thanked her for the information and told her I'd keep considering him. She said she'd originally said she wanted him back if he wasn't adopted, but had changed her mind and would not take him back. Great.
I went back to the books and kept looking at one particular series of photos which looked like an enriched version of this dog. The dog in the book had better color, more fur, a darker and larger black mask across the face...but the eyes were identical. The eyes of the dogs in that photo were the eyes of the dog in the shelter.
After a couple of phone calls I reached the person from Purebred Rescue who knew about Belgian Sheepdogs. She was an impressive owner. She said "the Belgians" (they're all the same dog, mostly, with the exception of the coat) were a very protected breed and she found it hard to believe there was a Malinois at the shelter, much less the less-known Tervuren.
BUT, if the dog at the shelter really was a Belgian, she said it was one of the most capable of all breeds in recovering from the trauma experienced by this dog. His age, 11 months, was a "stupid teen" age and he'd mature. The thin coat was because it was August and he was stressed and malnourished. He was going to be a handful but with the proper training this dog could recover nicely.
I told the kids the next day.
I said I'd found a dog at the shelter which might work for us and after school we got into the car to go see. Neither of them was especially happy with me because this wasn't the PUPPY they had dreamed of. I pressed on.
We went in and met Conquistador in person. He was still handsome despite his poor physical condition. "Handsome" helped sway the skeptics. My son saw him as "cool", my daughter thought he was "big-but-ok".
Annette was the one showing him and offered to take him outside with the kids and see how they did. I agreed. The pinch collar went on and the five of us proceeded out the door in a fairly organized fashion. Annette walked him. I walked him. My son walked him with coaching from Annette and my daughter insisted that she walk him as well.
I was impressed. Everything was looking good. The dog was on task. The kids were engaged and enthusiastic. I said I'd think about it and Annette told me to go back in to the building and discuss the logistical and financial questions with the other staff member on duty.
I left the four of them outside and went back in to the office.
I was reading the paperwork when the outside door opened and my daughter walked in with the dog on leash at her side. The two of them stopped regally, she fixed her eyes imploringly on me while he sat down militarily without even a command.
I was watching a well-rehearsed team.
She said, "Please, Mom, can we get him?" and he, as if on cue, looked me square in the eye and leaned his whole body lovingly against her side as if to say,
"Please, Mom, can I keep her?"
"OK", I said and the deed was done.
He came home two days later a mess. He was sore from the neutering surgery. The shelter had bathed him and cleaned him up, though, and I was patient.
He kept moving steadily. Pacing everywhere. In and out of rooms without stopping. Looking, watching, listening. Anxious looks and loud barking when out in the back yard. I innocently opened the refrigerator door without realizing he'd never seen one and he almost fainted from the shock of all that food. The black mask on the sable face inspired the name "Bandit" and he was ours.
A month earlier I'd innocently agreed to dog-sit that first weekend after Bandit's arrival for my boyfriend's dog. In a very exciting moment of surprise, Bandit and the other dog got into a brief-but-loud fight while we were out in the yard "socializing" and the visiting dog needed a couple of stiches on his shoulder as a result....
When boyfriend got back in to town he was not impressed with the situation and gave me the not-so-subtle message that I was obviously not "up to par" as a judge of dog character... and my dog lacked status. We broke up soon afterwards.
I took him to the Vet for our free "Vet Check" from the shelter.
"They said he's a Malinois," I ventured, "But I think he's a Tervuren..".
"No, I don't think he's a Tervuren," said the Vet. "I've seen a couple of those and they're all FUR while this coat's too thin. I think he's a mix, but definitely a herder. You should definitely get him into Obedience classes as soon as possible because these dogs can go crazy trying to figure out "Who's the farmer?" and "Who's the herder?".
The kids and I signed up for an obedience class south of Seattle. I'd found a facility in the yellow pages and their ad said they bred "Belgians". I called and the owner was skeptical that Bandit was a Tervuren as I was beginning to believe.
I kept saying, "But he looks just like one of the pictures in the book..."
And she said, "He's probably a shepherd mix."
We showed up for the first class and the owner/trainer came across the room as soon as we walked in the door.
"Wow" was all she said at first. Then she ran her hands down Bandit's body, checked his head and ears and stood up proclaiming; "Well, I'll be damned, he's a purebred Tervuren!"
Identity established.
Class was great. He aced all the lessons except the "down-stay out-of-sight". He loved being given directions. He loved not being in charge. I loved not being pulled around and anxious and uncertain. I became THE farmer and Bandit became the herder. My son also became a farmer, but daughter Emily became a "sometimes-farmer" because she sort of liked feeling protected by "a strong, noble aristocratic dog" (who went around the house sucking on a stuffed teddy bear he carried crammed in his mouth).
Through all of this I was learning.
I was learning about being a parent and an advocate and/or rescuer for all of them and me. I was learning about "herding" and how important it is to figure out who has the best herding skills in any given pasture on any given day. I was gaining the confidence to acknowlege and address my almost-invisible anoxic brain injury and the importance of giving up control when one doesn't have the herding skills needed by a farmer....
I learned about anxious herding and the confusion we can cause if we push ourselves and others around impulsively (or forgetfully). I learned about anxious group leaders (myself included) who haven't figured out how to define the role of farmer, dog OR sheep.
I've come to believe in a God who is not an anxious herder, but has confidence in our ability to "figure it out" with our own free wills if we only act with love.
And as the survivor of a sudden cardiac arrest (and that accompanying brain injury) I have a responsibility to remember the lessons I've learned about the sacredness of life and the importance of humility and courage in the face of a chaotic field of sheep or challenges.
I must set aside my pride when my abilities are not up to the demands of the commitments I have made.
And there's no hierarchy of values in "the big herding system of life". It's just as important to be a good sheep as it is to be a good farmer. (Just because the herding animal has great legs doesn't mean he/she can also open the pasture gate or give good wool!)
And sites like the inspire.com site help me find my fellow farm characters when necessary. If I need help in being the "farmer" today, I can find the voice of another farmer in the system. If I need support as a member of the stupid-but-rich gang of sheep I can find a fellow sheep somewhere here, too. I think the most important thing to remember is that we're not alone and we can always go outside ourselves and ask for help, regardless of our current roles in life or where our lives are at the moment.
As for the here and now of my life-with-dog, I'm heading out of town tomorrow in my car for a day trip to another city.
I won't be alone, though; I'm going to have Bandit with me and he's going to be in the back seat with his latest stuffed animal: a goofy black penguin wearing a red Santa hat. He'll take turns standing up and looking cool at the other drivers or lying down and secretly sucking on his penguin.
I will practice following a map and maneuvering through rush hour traffic. It will all be an adventure that's enriched with friends and we'll be better together.
the end