How I Became a Big Dog Dad
From left to right: Numan, our serious shepherd, Ranger, the rescue dog, and Charlie, always in charge.
I am a big dog dad. It isn’t something I woke up one day and decided. It is not some childhood dream, or cause. Aspiring to walking down the street with dogs that collectively outweigh me, or having my very own dog sled team never really landed in my bucket list.
So how did it happen? How did I end up head of a motley pack of canines? It started with childhood exposure. I was around all sorts of dogs growing up, as were many other American kids. My grandparents had little terriers, German shepherds and a menagerie of random mutts, some of whom I was allowed to play with and others I was not. Before I was born my parents got a cocker spaniel who became my first friend. As a young teen we got a little tricolored corgi.
Shortly after moving to the Greystone community our Lab/Pit mix, Abby, passed away from cancer. This left a hole in our lives we struggled to fill. The Baileys, local friends, and distant neighbors had recently gotten a breeding pair of English Golden Retrievers. We were at the neighborhood market and ran into Terry, carrying the cutest little snowball of a puppy. We asked him about the little fur ball and found out that he was raising a litter to be trained as sporting dogs, or family pets.
It was not long before we brought home Charlie, the crazy alpha female of the group, and one of the smallest in the litter. A sweet but stubborn dog, Charlie was smart as a whip and strong willed as a mule. She could learn any command, then simply not comply unless she felt like it that day. We thought she would be about a 75-pound dog fully grown, but we were wrong. Charlie was a bit of an anomaly. She outgrew her father and would eventually be commonly mistaken for a Great Pyrenees.
She was Keri’s dog through and through, often accompanying her into the flower gardens to “critter”, hunting small game as Keri weeded and fretted over her roses, or dahlias. As she grew, Charlie took to tracking bear when we were in the forest together. She also began to take exception to the coyotes in the neighborhood. Charlie’s siblings were all growing into proper bird dogs, family pets, and even therapy dogs, but Charlie was something different. We realized after a couple of incidences where she had taken off, run down, and thrashed groups of coyotes, we didn’t have a normal retriever. The wild was calling her, and she was bound to follow.
We adopted a new strategy with Charlie. We would train her to be good around humans, but we would not and could not inhibit her wild side. She would be a mix of wild and domesticated. Friendly and loving, but independent and strong willed at the same time. She was a large dog, much larger and stronger than a typical golden. Her training had to ensure she behaved like a large dog must behave. The antics toy breeds routinely get away with, in a 100-pound dog, can easily injure a guest or neighbor in a moment of exuberant greeting, or turn a beloved cat or small dog into gore jello in a flash of temper.
We’re parked surveying a park here. When the car’s moving pups should be in the back and strapped in.
In addition to formal obedience training, we actively socialized Charlie with small dogs, our friends and family, and travelled with her extensively. She would still wonder to where the wild things were, but she learned to be polite with a fire still burning inside her. Now, she can be left to guard my favorite table at Main Street Cafe while I go into order, and she shines with tourists and locals alike.
With Charlie at a year and a half old, we were both ready for our second dog. My grandfather had raised German Shepherds, and I had always wanted one of my own. I knew there were many congenital health issues with some lines, and so we were very particular in our search. We had learned a lot raising Charlie and were confident a German Shepherd would be a good addition to our family.
With Charlie being a hard alpha, we wanted to mosey down the pecking order a bit to maybe a letter H or G. A dog that could take charge, if need be, but really didn’t care much who was in charge, or want to mess with hierarchy one way or another.
We found a breeder with puppies in Sevierville TN and went to pay them a visit. Charlie was not allowed to come with us, to protect the puppies from exposure to potential disease.
When we arrived the mother greeted us with echoing barks, and a bold protective stance atop the mountain that was the breeder’s home. After some sniffing, we were approved to meet the family and so proceeded to converse with the husband-and-wife team about their East German working line of dogs. They were long and lean with flat backs and well built at the shoulder, neck, and hip. The sire made an appearance after momma had determined we were okay. All he wanted to do was play ball, or rile the puppies into an uproar of which the mother dog did not approve.
This is the first time we saw Numan, who was officially George Green Collar at the time, named by the family’s children. He stood out to me because he was staring right at me and both his ears were standing up. He was an aloof little guy, enjoying playtime with his siblings.
You could tell he wasn’t boss, second only to momma, and he wasn’t the runt either. He happily munched an ear and had his munched in return. If rolled, he got up and just kept on trucking. I picked him up and we both fell in love with the broad headed fat pawed wolf pup from the summit of a mountain in Sevier County Tennessee.
In a few weeks we brought him home, a precocious bundle of black and tan fuzz. He was frightened of Charlie at first, but soon grew accustomed to the white bear/dog who would become his adoptive mom. Numan was and still is one of the most affectionate and attentive dogs I have ever known. When not with Charlie learning how to be semi-feral, Keri toted him about in a sling puppy carrier. He would assist in the kitchen, the office, or anywhere else, many times falling asleep on a desk or counter space watching Keri work.
He loved to play fight. He would play tug with one of his rope toys, growling like an “attack dog”.
He would wrestle with Charlie for hours on end. He was easy to train. Though he is more wary of strangers and other dogs than Charlie, he’s as friendly and well-adjusted as you could ever ask. Numan’s one great hangup came at about six months old. He developed a T-Rex/Chainsaw phase, that cost us several pieces of furniture. As soon as his teething had passed, his chewing left as well, never to return.
Years went by. We had many adventures, running, hiking and swimming in our Southern Appalachian home. We thought our little pack of two was complete. Best friends Charlie and Numan were inseparable. Then about a week before Thanksgiving 2023 we got a call from Dr. J, our veterinarian. She had found a young adult male German Shepherd wondering the streets of Cocke County Tennessee. They couldn’t locate an owner, and Ranger needed a home. Numan needed another buddy, right? So, the day before Thanksgiving we added big dog three.
Ranger was wily and paranoid, with a strong prey drive, and a penchant for survival no matter what. He needed therapy, and still does, but is doing much better. To make things more complicated, a world weary and damaged dachshund/ beagle mix showed up on our doorstep Thanksgiving Day. Over a holiday we had gone from two dogs to four. Sheila as she would be called due to her resilience and shear tenacity, had old compound fractures to her ribs, an old fracture to her pelvis, intestinal issues, and a case of PTSD the size of Lake Superior. She was completely unafraid of the three larger dogs, but got tired of Rangers incessant play fights, and would eventually just let him have it.
Now dog dad to three large beasts each over 80 pounds and a little dog that might have weighted 20 pounds after Thanksgiving dinner, some obvious complications began to arise. Sheila would get squished in bed; she would get trampled in the yard. She’d light into Ranger and get carried around hanging by her teeth from his face.
Three was going to be our limit. It was obvious. So, we found a home in the suburbs for Sheila with my sister. She could heal there and leave what horrors she had experienced before coming to our door behind her.
Meanwhile Ranger needed a lot of remediation. He would jump on people to say hello, nearly knocking adults on their backsides. He woke me at 2am asking to go out, only to take the opportunity to kill a rabbit and drop it at my feet. A late dinner for us both, by his way of thinking. And, if we’d been living in the dystopian novel of his past, I’d be inclined to agree with him, but we weren’t.
I am the dog dad of a wild pack who buck the doodle trend. Perhaps with the resurrection of the Dyer Wolf, my motley group will look more civilized at the dog park.
Ranger continues his training, and is still learning not to bolt after wild animals, to eat his own food, and not tackle guests. He does trust us through, and that is the huge first step.
Being a big dog dad I have a strong appreciation for a form of loyalty that few of us humans ever get to truly understand or appreciate. The large canines of this world forge bonds with those they trust that are selfless, courageous, and last their entire lives. I protect and nurture them and they return the favor. To say that my dogs keep me sane would be an accurate assessment. I feel safer around the house, or out on a run, with them around. They mitigate some of my own social awkwardness and become ambassadors. For those who would like to have a big dog family, it is a wonderful choice, but one that comes with a lot of responsibility. They are a serious commitment. Big dogs must behave better than little dogs, so they must be well trained. They eat more, and their vet bills can also be more expensive. There can be liability issues, and you will get worried and disapproving glances at dog parks. Human prejudices are alive and well.
The big dog community though is full of the most amazing dogs and people on earth. If this is the path for you, you will be in great company. If you are a big dog mom or dad, drop me a note on my contact’s page. I’d love to hear from you. I am always looking for like-minded people.
