September 6, 2007

• In the 17 days that have passed since Doyle and I adopted Hagrid, our Great Dane puppy, we've learned a lot.
  Along
  with finding both of our hearts being wrapped around his gigantic paws,
  we've collected some amazing facts from reading on the Internet about
  Great Danes....
  For example, I had no idea that there were so many famous cartoon Great Danes.
  

  

  
  Did
  you have any clue that Astro, the Jetsons' big dog on the old cartoon
  show, was a Great Dane?
   Or Marmaduke, in the newspaper comic strips?
  
  

  

  
  Or, for heaven's sake, SCOOBY DOO? Who knew?
  

  

  
  We've also picked up a
  little bit about the history of the breed. One website says that in 407
  A.D., Europe was invaded by an Asian tribe who brought their powerful
  dogs along. Later, in Germany, these big strong dogs, admired for their
  ability to whip up on bears and wild boars, were crossed with Irish
  greyhounds, resulting in the dogs we know as Great Danes. Other sources
  have differing histories of the breed, but all that I've read seem to
  agree that hounds played a role in the development of our present-day
  Great Danes.
  I knew there had to be a hound-dog in the family tree
  somewhere. Those drawn-out howls that sometimes erupt from our big
  black puppy, especially when he's frustrated because Darnit Kitty won't
  play with him anymore, sound suspiciously hound-doggish. In fact, so
  hound-doggish that we've been tempted to changed Hagrid's name to
  Elvis. Luckily for the neighbors, our dog doesn't howl -- or even bark --
  very often. For a puppy, he's pretty laid-back, which is supposed to be
  another characteristic of the breed, and suits Doyle and me just fine
  at this age and stage of our lives.
  Great Danes are supposed to be
  good at tracking, being watchdogs, and "carting," I've also learned.
  Carting? I wonder if Doyle would hammer me together a little cart so
  that I could hitch Hagrid up and drive him down the hill to the Square
  to work. I'm envisioning something sort of like those gladiator
  chariots in "Ben Hur." Getting me back UP the hill might be a whole
  'nother story. I might have to put him in the cart and hitch myself to
  the front, depending on how my diet is going.
  I've also read,
  "Because of his giant size, the Great Dane should be thoroughly
  obedience-trained when young so it will be manageable when fully grown."
  Hmmm.
  We've tried to really take this to heart. I have visions of being
  dragged around Harrison at the wrong end of a leash by my
  Shetland-pony-sized pet. Or of me trying to stop him from barking at
  the pizza delivery guy, and being totally ignored by a massive creature
  who outweighs me, which he eventually will, unless Brasel keeps
  bringing doughnuts into the newsroom all the time, then I might have a
  few pounds on Hagrid even after he's fully grown.
  Seriously, Doyle
  and I have both been working hard to teach our new doggie what he needs
  to know at this stage of his puppyhood. He's learned to walk on a leash
  pretty well, considering he'd never even seen a leash or a collar until
  we brought him home, and acted like we were trying to strangle him to
  death the first time we tried walking him.
  He knows what "sit" and
  "stay" mean, and he's obeying those commands pretty faithfully. Coming
  when he's called is going a little more slowly.  He comes most of the
  time, unless something more interesting has his attention — like the
  cat.
  The one thing we're not having any luck getting him to do is go
  into his crate when we tell him to. We've tried telling him, bribing
  him with a treat, everything we can think of, but every time, it takes
  bodily dragging him in there and closing the door. As I write, he's in
  the crate (where I dragged him) for "time out" because he wouldn't stop
  chewing on the armchair. Even though he has has about 47 chew toys of
  various shapes and sizes scattered around the house, the legs of the
  furniture -- and my leather sandals -- are his favorite things to chew.
  He
  ADORES his brother the cat, and Roscoe tolerates him. Now that Roscoe
  has gotten used to him, they romp around the house, batting at each
  other, play-biting, rolling around, until the cat gets bored with all
  that silly dog stuff and hides behind my grandmother's antique rocking
  chair. The first few days after Hagrid joined the family, Roscoe
  totally avoided him and perched up in a high windowsill, giving that
  whippersnapping intruder the baleful stare that only a haughty feline
  with its nose out of joint can pull off. But now Roscoe has completely
  thawed and seems to be actually having fun playing with his upstart
  baby brother.
  

  

   So we're all adjusting, and meanwhile, I'm still studying up on our new dog and his kinfolks.
  Did you have any idea that the Great Dane is the state dog of Pennsylvania?

  By Celia DeWoody
  Published Sept. 5, 2007
  Copyright Harrison Daily Times, Harrison, Ark.
  

  
  
  

  • 10:09 pm
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