Saturday, May 09, 2009

Finally, The Good

It is not bad at all to own a standard schnauzer, and I didn't want to give that impression in my last 10 posts (just kidding!). I am, in fact, crazy about mine. Here's why, in order of importance:

1. I am now the fittest I've ever been. My bad cholesterol is way down too. There's no way you will postpone exercise with a SS. Should you choose to skip it, your home will feel the consequences.

2. We feel extremely protected. As Kafka gets older, he gets better and better at his number one job. He guards me when I'm hiking and painting outdoors. He constantly patrols our home's perimeter. He even sits behind me during dinner. And he will not let any stranger or dog touch anyone in our family.

3. They are smart. The potty training was quick and so were all the other daily routines we taught him. Standard schnauzers develop large vocabularies and an insatiable apetite for challenges.

4. Entertaining. They may not retrieve, but this breed does everything with gusto, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. This confidence makes them funny and endearing. Schnauzers will always let you know where you stand, with their voice.

5. They thrive on new experiences. Now that his fear period is over, it has become clear to me that he is not afraid of people, other dogs, much bigger animals, or even fireworks. These nerves of steel make him a great companion on urban walks.

6. Iron-clad stomachs. You can vary their diet and they adjust pretty quickly. And they have prodigious appetites.

7. Beautiful. A day does not pass that I do not hear how handsome he is from total strangers. I am an artist and I would lie if I said I didn't care about looks. I put up with the grooming schedule because I feel it is worth it in term of the beauty factor.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

The Terror of Adolescence

My dog is a teenager. He spends the day playing or sleeping. He runs through the house, knocking everything off. He argues with us when he does not like our commands. He wants to get his way and if he doesn't, he pouts and sulks. He is persistent. He has no other mission than to wait patiently for his chance to get what he wants.

In one of her manuals, champion breeder Sylvia Hammerstrom says, "I'm sorry if our introduction to the schnauzer did not give you the impression that you were going to live with the devil for his first year... at seven to eighteen months, he is like a teenager, a terror to live with." 

With a teenage standard, the terror starts early. At seven am, he is already awake and SO, SO happy to see us! My morning hello consists of an entire song and dance worthy of Janet Jackson. He gets excited and would inflict many soft little bites on my arms and hands if I let him. Then he follows us around, trying to get a whiff of what we're having for breakfast, but usually he settles on the floor, focused on destroying toys right behind my chair. After breakfast, he starts asking to be let outside, but mindful that this is usually the time when most of the neighborhood birds are feeding, we wait for an hour or so least he wake the neighbors with his excited, high-pitched barking. He will point at the back door with his body, race to it and stop, and try to squeeze through if you open it. Once outside he will want to check on you after a while, to see if you've gone to that mysterious place that requires a car. Satisfied that you're still at home, he will want to be let out again, and so it goes until around 10:30 when it is...

Nap time! He will insist on taking it near you, and until he settles down will try to lick your keyboard, your work documents or your hand, whatever's nearest. His naps are short though, because he never relaxes enough, worried as he is that you might be opening the gate to the garden, or that strange men might be leaving packages at our doorstep without his permission. He takes his naps on the floor because now he is not happy with just acting out fantasies with his bed, lately he has learned to open its zipper and take out the stuffing.

The terror takes a new meaning at the park where we go for one hour a day. Yes, he gets to burn a lot of energy because he gets to run free, and that's exactly what he does for the first 45 minutes, but not without inviting every single dog he meets to play. If we could put them in human terms, his invitations would sound something like this:

"Guess what! You are so lucky you get to play with me right now. This is what we do, you run and I bump you then bite your ears. Ready?"

Needless to say, he only plays with dogs his size or bigger. When we return he is mellow for about an hour. He usually takes another short nap if the house is quiet. But wait, it is around this time when he starts noticing you have not fed him, and so he goes to the kitchen and points to his dishes, then lays in the middle of the kitchen floor in wait until the much-awaited dish arrives. After dinner he goes back to the yard where he stands watch over all the living creatures that dare come near, but soon enough he gets a second wind because it's playtime again at around 5:00 pm. 

If the unfortunate monkeys gathered around the table try to eat their own dinner, he has been known to pull the tablecloth to let his plans be known. If we confine him to the back deck, he will let us know what an injustice this is. So we try to wear him down by playing fetch or tug-of-war right after our dinner. It is fun, but we are careful to not do it near anything fragile. He gets the evening walk after six pm, usually on a leash (try looking for a gray schnauzer in the waning sunset and you get the picture) and by the time he gets home, he is ready for his bed, until the next day, unless a visitor knocks on the door or passes near our house. Then his deep barks can wake up the dead!