My True Love, My Dogs.

Since I find blogging difficult,  I’m going to start with something I love and talk easily about. My dogs. I will give them each their own writing because they deserve it.

Left: Hunter   Middle: Kinzy   Right: Ryker


Hunter was first. Hunter was my first Dutch Shepherd and my entry into the world of extreme dogs.  I did not set out to buy one of these dogs. They are working dogs,  K9’s, herding etc. I have no need for either. I’m a Dispatcher not a Cop and I’m a city girl not a farm girl.

While I was looking for a German Shepherd one of my Deputies told me to get a “Dutchie” instead. I thought he was crazy and asked him what the hell would I do with a K9? His response was that I could handle a dog like these and to get one.  So….I did.

I bought my Hunter from a breeder in another state. His mother was from a line I was very familiar with and I couldn’t ask for a better lineage. Where I failed was in his sire’s side.  I didn’t go back far enough, didn’t catch the inbreeding.  I became too focused on the one side. I paid for it later.

He was seven weeks old when I brought him home and I fell in love instantly. He was freaking adorable! I found a great trainer.  She was married to a K9 Officer/training coordinator so she was very accustomed to these dogs. They even bred them. Anyway,  he trained the working dogs and she trained obedience and protection one on one.

We worked diligently with my boy, but by the time he was 5 months old he was not only huge (he was large for the breed at 80lbs) but his aggression was becoming evident. One day in particular  (the beginning of the end for my boy and me) he even turned on our trainer for a moment and he loved her so you can imagine how much worse he would have been with a stranger.

After that, she went to her husband and we set up a time for him to evaluate Hunter.  When all was said and done,at 8 months old, he took my boy and along with another handler/trainer turned him into a completely different dog, a K9 with a much better grip on his aggression. Training every day the way they do was the best thing that could have happened to him.

I was heartbroken to give him up and I felt guilty because I failed him.  This is where the inbreeding came back to bite me (excuse the bad pun). Although I have never forgotten him and I still miss him,  I was able to let the guilt go because I did do everything that was best for him. I trained him well,  I loved him, and gave him a good home.

He did become a K9 but 1 month into his new job he died. He was in the patrol car, it was a hot day.  The car shut off and the warning sensor that would have alerted his handler failed. I can’t go any further. That was years ago now and I’m sitting here in Starbucks wiping tears and trying to type. I will miss him until my dying breath and beyond.






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