The Good, Good Boy . . .

So, who is the "Good, Good Boy?" Why, Buddy, of course! If you've been following my posts for a while, you will know that Buddy had an inauspicious beginning here at LoupGarou/Conri Terriers. Just to be absolultely clear, I feel that I must repeat that Buddy was never abused at any time in his life and I do not hold the breeder responsible for his early difficulties with Kathleen that brought him here to live with me. Buddy has never been unstable: his actions have always been defensive in nature and, to him, have seemed entirely logical. He's made incredible progress from those first sad days. He's allowed me to pet him and to pick him up. He's gone into exercise pens and on walks along our rural road. His most recent success was to go to Lowe's for a little off-the-farm training. Next, he'll start walking several days a week for his FIT Dog title. Everything has been going well for Buddy.

And now, we come to the "good, good boy" portion of the tale!

When I picked Buddy up from Kathleen in November of 2024, we had little hope that he could do anything but sit in a crate and be miserable. We honestly discussed his quality of life and his potential future. We couldn't pass him on to another person, due to liability issues. We weren't certain if we wanted to breed him. Now, less than two years later, we have been discussing his future again: FIT Walks, Rally Obedience, possible agility trials, even conformation shows. We're already over the moon with his progress, with the potential for Buddy having a normal and happy life. It's right around the corner. I can feel it.

The only thing that stood in our way of possibly entering Buddy in conformation shows was the uncertainty of how he would behave around other people: strangers in general and Kathleen specifically. Kathleen's background with Buddy remained extremely problematic. The fact remains that Kathleen will almost always be part of the picture when I show dogs in conformation. It's inevitable that one of us will hand a dog off to the other for a class change. If she were to end up holding Buddy, we wondered, what would be the result?

Answering that question could be answered by our meeting up in Monroe, which we did this past weekend. Kathleen and Buddy spending two days together in the hotel room would help us determine how much progress he had actually made or how much progress remained to be made. I bundled him, Yaddle, and myself--as well as 150 pounds of dog food and various other canine accoutrements into the vehicle and headed off to Louisiana, toward a "two-day trip" that would make our history books.

Let's just say that Buddy exceeded expectations.

Truly, he did. The last long ride we'd taken together had been a nightmare. He barked. He howled. He cowered at the back of his crate and growled at me, even when I offered him some yummyyummy chicken livers (Yaddle's favorite travel food). However, he's had several short rides since then and, to my surprise, he wagged his little stubby tail in excitement when I carried him out to the car. He hadn't had any breakfast, so he was doubly excited when I stopped at Wendy's for a light lunch--he and Yaddle had some of my fries, which they treated as caviar! And, when I carried him into the hotel room crate and all, he seemed interested but not intimidated. The trip was off to a good start.

We sequestered Buddy's crate in the bathroom sink portion of the room. Lots of piddle pads on the floor, a big dish for water, and an ex-pen panel through which he could see us completed his personal space. We opened the crate door and left him to settle in while I finished unpacking the car. He eventually emerged from his crate and sniffed noses with Yaddle through the ex-pen panel. He spent a good deal of time staring at Kathleen, but his ears remained forward and his hackles remained down. Despite the repeated nose-licking--a sign of stress--he was doing well. We added a fluffy dog bed and a red foxy toy when he showed signs of relaxing. Kathleen and I had supper (yummy barbeque ribs and potato salad that Kathleen had brought from home), fed the dogs, curled up on our respective beds, and let sleep come as it may.

That's when the barking started.

A knock on the wall in another room. Buddy barked. A door slammed. Buddy barked. Someone raised their voice. Buddy barked. We turned on the television. It's a frequent tactic that we use to add "white noise" to hotel noises. Nope. Buddy barked. That's when we pulled out the dreaded "clicker." The clicker is a handheld ultrasonic device. The user depresses the button for a quick ultrasonic pulse when a dog barks, discouraging the dog from barking again. At home, we have the luxury of teaching our dogs at a leisurely pace about their "inside voice." Not so at a hotel, especially when the night is rolling on.

After the first "click," Buddy stopped, confused. Yaddle, however, hid behind me on the bed. The problem with such a device is that it can't be targeted. This clicker was new--and, while Yaddle has had no issue with previous devices, she did not like it.

After the second round of barking and its subsequent click, Buddy stayed quiet just a little longer. Yaddle hid on the floor, under the bedside stand.

After the third round of barking/click, Buddy gave it all up as a bad job (at least for now). Yaddle decided that she'd had enough of me and went to sleep with Mama Kathleen. After a little more whining, I moved Buddy into his crate and next to my bed, where he slept peacefully until morning.

The next day, Buddy learned a little bit more about hotel manners--without the clicker. He was praised for being quiet when normal sounds occurred. He was allowed to leave his crate and his private area while on a lead and was given Top of the Bed privileges. He had the privilege of leaving the room, on lead, and of meeting the little girl in the room next to ours. She petted him gently on the head and he graciously permitted it. He was permitted even more top of the bed privileges before being put in his crate for the night, safely next to my bed.

The next day was Saturday. Leaving Day. Buddy was permitted to walk around on his lead and we made an attempt for Kathleen to hold him. I put him in her arms--and he stayed calm. I was ready to burst into tears. I could have died on the spot and gone into the afterlife a happy woman. Buddy stayed in his crate as we cleaned the room and loaded the car. After loading the dogs, we headed off to Sam's Club to get hot dogs. Just as we approached Sam's Club, my Suburban died. It gasped its last in a peaceful demise, yes, as it coasted across the intersection and into the breakdown lane. I tried starting it. We emptied gas from a gas can into it and prayed. However, like Dickens' doornail, the Suburban was emphatically dead.

Yaddle, as always, was the bestest girl and stayed quietly in her crate as we waited the nearly two hours for a tow. Buddy, to my surprise, followed her lead. They stayed quietly in Kathleen's car at the Firestone repair shop for yet another hour. And, when we got checked back into the room which we had left earlier in the day, both dogs were still quiet. Buddy, to his credit, settled back into his private space and all but ceased barking at the ordinary hotel sounds. Despite my being a wreck, the dogs were amazing. He was still giving Kathleen a wide berth when she went through "his" space into the bathroom, but at no time did he seem to want to snap at her or bite her. At that point, we decided to allow him Room Floor Privileges.

Room Floor Privileges can be a big step. Buddy's recall had improved, so he would be easier to return to his space, but it had been those privileges that got us in the position that led to him being with me to begin with. He tentatively made his way past the ex-pen panel in his own time. It took about two seconds for him to begin to trot around excitedly and just a little longer than that to steal Yaddle's sacrosanct triceratops. She retreated to Kathleen's bed, all insulted and huffy. Clearly, he was a heathen and not to be tolerated.

It grew even worse when I was (literally) singing his praises as he danced around the room. "Buddy is a goodgood boy, he is a goodgood boy. Buddy is a goodgood boy and I love him!" It's a nonsense tune that I sing at "chowchow time," in which I sing all the dogs' names in turn (Buddy is, Badger is, Yaddle is, Steele is, etc.) Yaddle was not about to be left out of the festivities (or miss out on the pieces of chicken) and jumped off the bed to join us. The song then became, "Buddy is a goodgood boy, he is a goodgood boy. Buddy is a goodgood boy and the Honey Puppy!" It's amazing how a silly song and a few strands of leftover chicken can make two dogs' lives better.

The rest of the weekend--we left on Monday--passed relatively quietly. The Suburban died because the alternator quit. Firestone got me on the road and for a reasonable price, in a reasonable amount of time. Buddy came back onto my bed a couple of times and had a lot of floor time. His crate took up permanent residence next to my bed because he learned to give signals that he had to potty at night and used the pads reliably during the day. He let Kathleen hold him a second time and actually seemed to be inquisitive about her, rather than being on high alert.

It was actually a really good weekend for the dogs--and would have been great for the two of us had the Suburban not intervened. The original purpose of this past weekend was to relax, to get away from the stress created by Badger's recent issue, and to evaluate Buddy's progress as a family member and potential show dog. We learned that he actually has a great deal of potential to be a loving family member, who was sitting at my feet and casting adoring eyes at Yaddle as I began typing this post.

The jury is still out on his show worthiness. He's gorgeous. He has learned to walk beautifully on a lead. I now know that Kathleen can hold him if I hand him off to her. He still needs to learn to stand quietly on a table, to have a judge put hands on him. He needs to learn about baths and nail dremels. Those things were not for this trip. His brain took in more than I thought it capable of processing and he still remained happy and relaxed on the ride home.

I'll be happy to stop here, if we need to do so. Not every dog needs a conformation title to be a worthy sire or dam. He's clearly capable of learning many things and he's leaps and bounds past the dog he was when he came to me. I'm SO proud of my Buddy von Budderman and am very grateful that he is in my life.