I am writing today's post with a mixture of sadness and pride. Toby turned eight today and is now officially a senior citizen, but try as I might, I can't come to terms with the idea that he is aging. I still remember the day we adopted him, seven long years ago - when he was only 11 months old.
It feels like only yesterday.
When we first adopted Toby he was taking Clomicalm for anxiety, he could barely sit still for more than a second, he barked non-stop, he knew very few commands, he rarely listened to the ones he knew, he ate non-stop, he stole and devoured anything he could get his paws on, he pulled like a sled dog, he leapt on everyone without hesitation, he dined on stools non-stop, he had unrelenting digestive 'difficulties,' he drank himself nearly to death due to stress, and he was covered in staph infection.
It was easy to see why he had been given up by his previous family, yet we still decided to take a chance on him, due to his friendly nature.
Originally chosen as nothing more than a tool to help Leah overcome considerable fear issues, Toby easily accomplished that task, and so much more. I am forever indebted to this dog. His initial stubbornness, unruliness, destructiveness, and refusal to be forced or coerced into doing, well, anything, prodded me to reenter the dog training world that I once despised, (thanks to a horrific experience with my previous dog, Harley, and a punishment promoting trainer wielding a shock collar).
If it weren't for Toby, I wouldn't have discovered that positive dog training methods existed, I never would have grown interested in dog behavior, or dog sports, or therapy work, or sporting dogs...and we most likely never would have adopted Meadow. Instead, I have been to so many places, learned so much, done so many things that I never would have thought myself capable of, and met so many wonderful people - all because of just one dog. Toby has taught me to follow my heart, that the journey is much more important than the destination, and that ribbons and goals don't mean much if you can't look yourself in the mirror. Through our adventures, I've discovered that I would much rather have a working companion at my side that listens to me because he wants to - even if he occasionally makes a mistake - than a 'perfect' dog who only behaves because he is afraid of the repercussions if he doesn't.
I've made my share of mistakes, many of them with Toby, and he's forgiven every one of them. And besides, to me, Toby is perfect.
Today, Toby and I started our day by going to Nose Work class, where my ten year old Goddaughter handled him in the ring. When he couldn't find the scent he was looking for, he ran up to her, sat, and then downed - offering behaviors to her in hopes of a reward. Since he kept missing the mark, the trainer asked Erin to try leashing him so that she could direct him closer to the scent, and when on leash, he heeled perfectly at Erin's side.
Not what we intended, but I think you get the point.
Afterwards, we stopped by my Mom's for coffee, where Toby played a nice game of tug with her German shepherd, Kayla, before walking over to my father and sitting nicely in front of him, asking to be pet. When my brother Mike, a non-Labrador fan, came upstairs to chat, Toby stayed in place and didn't bother him at all.
On my way home, I decided to make an impromptu visit to Petco. Toby walked into the building, without pulling, heeled with me through all of the isles, left pee alone when asked, sat upon request whenever a strange dog passed, sat politely to greet an elderly man who wanted to pet him, and received several compliments about his good behavior from other customers. Finally, Toby sat patiently while I paid for the new Wubba Kong that he chose from the shelf before following me to the car on a completely loose leash - all while wearing a plain old flat collar. We went home, played tug in the yard with his new toy, which he released each time I said the word "Give." Later, Toby veered away from a pile of dog poo the first time I said "Leave-it!"
Finally, exhausted from his eventful day, Toby barely bothered to move his eyes as I took photos of him crashed out on the kitchen floor.
A tired dog IS a good dog.
Are all days with Toby this good? No - definitely not. Some days, Toby's recall is less than ideal. In new places, Toby usually pulls. Sometimes, Toby still eats poop, or refuses to give up the toy on the first request. Occasionally, Toby still jumps up on people. And Toby will always be obsessed with food.
But every day, Toby's outstanding temperament shines through. He doesn't know what the word "Bite" means. He's completely trustworthy with adults and children, cats and other critters, and despite the many times he's been bitten by dogs himself, Toby has never sunk to their level. In seven years, I have only heard him growl one time, and it was at a neighbor who had made me nervous the previous night. I can take food from his mouth - and have. He does not guard toys, he will get down from the sofa upon request, he puts up with baths, nail trims, ear cleanings, and teeth brushings without complaint. My vet's office loves him; he's been through blood draws, sonograms, staples, needle aspirations, prostate exams, and even a joint fluid tap - all with a wagging tail.
And now, at eight years old, Toby is finally settling down and becoming the perfect Labrador - the one people meet on the street and then decide that the Lab is the dog for them. Of course, we all know how that often ends, so at Petco today, in answer to the many people who smiled and said, "Wow! He's so well behaved!", I was quick to tell them, "Yes, but he's eight. You should've seen him at four..."
Happy Birthday Toby, my friend...I look forward to many more!
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