I asked friends online: “For fun and for a blog—tell us about your first dog?”
I added: “Your first dog—as a child or as an adult. Breed, mix, general physical description; source (where did you get the dog?), reason/s you chose this particular dog (or that the dog chose you)?, brief synopsis of the dog’s life, fill in some of the interesting details; adventures you and the dog had together?
“When was this dog a part of your life? What did you learn from the dog (and how); what, do you think, did the dog learn from you? Have you had other dogs since then?
“Anything else you’d like to share with us about this dog?”
They answered.
Sheila Gomez (Washington) The first dog I had and paid for was a collie mix. He was a light sable and white. We rescued him from the pound. He was a young male about six months. He was smart, loving, and loved walks. I really loved him but as a teenager was not very aware of things like shots and protection against diseases. We did not give our dog shots, and back then neither did the pound like nowadays. My poor boy got distemper and it was advanced before we took him to a vet. (Not a lot of money back then.) Anyway, he was put to rest. So my choice now is to protect my [current and] future dogs with shots, [regular] vet visits, or when anything doesn’t seem normal about the dog. It was a horrible life-changing moment watching my baby have seizures, etc. I felt devastated.
Jamie Robinson (Florida) My very first dog was a German shepherd that my best friend and I found on the side of the road. She, Foxy, was around nine months old, according to the vet. This was in 1969. Foxy was a crazy fun dog and one of her favorite things to do was “bowl.” My mom would give her huge knuckle bones that were nearly the size of a human adult skull. She would “bowl” them across the family room/kitchen floor. Because of her love of those bones, when I had a Halloween party with all the guys that were with me in the Advanced SCUBA program, she “bowled” her bone at everyone. One of the guys got real drunk and fell asleep on the family room floor. He was bald (but only 23). Foxy thought his head was one of her bones!
Rebekah Piedad (California) My first dog was an Eastern Timber Wolf. We grew up together. He was more brother than dog.
Christine Hale Vertucci (Tennessee) My first dog as an adult was an eight-year-old Rottweiler mix named Chyna. I fell in love with her as a shelter volunteer. My husband and I were headed to Hawaii for our fifth anniversary, and before we left I told the shelter manager that I’d foster Chyna if she needed it. I neglected to mention that to my husband! While we were on our trip, I received a message that Chyna had kennel cough and would be waiting for us to foster her when we returned. I surprised my husband with that news on our last day in Hawaii, and brought her home the following day. Luckily, my husband and our two geriatric cats loved her immediately. She was deemed unadoptable when the shelter veterinarian found crystals in her urine, so we decided to adopt her. Chyna was very dog-reactive, but absolutely lovely with humans (and cats!). After plenty of tears and lots of hard work, we passed an advanced obedience class, earned her Canine Good Citizen title, became a therapy dog team and she became an ambassador dog for a local humane organization. We visited a memory unit in a nursing home and several Chicago Police Departments, training officers on how to read dog body language. Chyna taught me so much, and she is the reason I became a dog trainer. She changed my world forever.
Photo by Christine Hale Vertucci
Jill Gibbs (Montana) My first dog was a German shorthair pointer. Her name was Ginger and I was terrified of her. She was the sweetest dog, but I was afraid of her until I was about six years old. We had a screen door to the garage (for what reason I have no idea). I would sit and talk to her through the screen, but wouldn’t venture out to pet her. I remember one winter my siblings buried me in a snow bank. Ginger ran over the top of me. She was afraid of thunder and hot-air balloons. Once I decided she was not going to eat me, we became friends. I guess I am making up for my fear of dogs now.
Melissa McCue-McGrath (Maine) My girl, Sadie Jane … she was everything in a dog I didn’t want. She was a puppy, a herding dog, a long-haired dog, and she hated certain groups of people (men, kids, anyone with hats, anyone who was blessed with melanin, etc.). That dog was my best teacher. She taught me dogs could fly, meds were okay, people did their best with the tools they had, most people just really loved their pets while wanting what was best for them. She is permanently tattooed on my right arm. Her challenges made me realize that a broad brush still misses some who need help. This bitch was literally my right-hand girl, and after 20 years in training and behavior, I wouldn’t be anywhere without her. Every single “thing” I thought was true going into this business (training and behavior), she was the exception, and I learned I couldn’t have preconceived notions as my dog challenged each and every one of them. The exceptions make you better, and she did. The mistakes I made with her I didn’t have to make with my current boy, and for that, I am ever thankful. (Even though they never met, I’m sure he feels the same way.) The advocacy I learned with her has helped thousands of dogs and my actual human kid over the decades. I see Sadie Jane every day, I apologize to her every day even in the wake of her death 11 years ago, and I do better for my students every day because of her. She was my best teacher, taught me how to advocate, and loved me unconditionally even when I felt I didn’t deserve it. She will always have a piece of my heart and she will be with every animal I work with until I can’t remember how words work, or how my body works. She is my heart and soul—even after all these years without her. If I had one minute with her right now, I would give her a piece of cheese, scrunch her face, kiss her white head and say, “I’m sorry, I love you, I thank you.”
Kenna Stonefern (New Hampshire) My first dog as a kid was a mixed-breed Lab/Newfoundland mix. Her name was Penny. My parents were very unstable and they decided that they wanted to move out of state to be near friends. They had brought Penny to a kennel so they could go visit these friends and, when they got back, they decided that they would no longer keep Penny because she would interfere with them moving. My parents went to the kennel to pay for her stay but they did not bring her home. They told me that another customer at the kennel, picking up their dog at the same time, adopted her on the spot. She was 13 and I never saw her again, I never believed them, and here I am 35 years later, writing this and crying as if it were yesterday!
Trillium Schlosser (Washington) My first “adult” dog was an English springer spaniel named Chuck. No exaggeration—he adored me. I made mistakes every day with him, and he tried his best to do what I asked. When he didn’t understand, he would lie on my feet, look up with those beautiful brown eyes, and ask for a cuddle. The best thing I learned is that it is okay to stop training when it just isn’t working. Training for training’s sake is destined for failure. One funny story about Chuck: We were going home from camping at the beach and he was in his car harness in the front seat. I pulled into a rest stop and got out. I don’t know if I left it in neutral or he bumped it, but the car started rolling towards a cliff and out into the ocean. I panic, he starts howling, and luckily we just ran into a parked car. From then on he would howl, bark, scratch at the seat, basically cause a ruckus if I left him in the car. He was a heart dog and was with me just over 16 years.
Shoshannah Forbes (Israel) My first dog as an adult was Julie, a 10-year-old boxer I adopted from a kill shelter. I first saw her in a photo on an online forum. She was amazing—fully trained when I got her. We had lots of long walks in fields that are now buildings. Unfortunately she lived with me for less than a year before she got a blood clot in her brain and passed. She is the one who got me into dogs and I still miss her.
Photo by Shoshannah Forbes
Stephanie Presdee (United Kingdom) I walked a neighbour’s Dalmatian (called Pongo, of course), and we had various dogs at home when I was growing up, but my first own dog was from Dundee SPCA in 1975. I lived in a cottage near the beach in Crail, Fife, Scotland. I went by bus to see the puppies and travelled again by bus to get her. [I saw her] with her dam, and contrary to usual advice, instead of choosing the brave first pups that scrabbled at the pen side, I chose the one who sat quietly at the back, looking at me. She was gold, GSD x Golden retriever, so I called her Sanka. From the moment I got her in my arms on the bus going home she self-trained, grew up on the beach, never chewed anything … her party trick in that first hot summer was to nip wasps and quickly dispatch them with a very quick canine tooth—never got stung! When I returned to Oxford, I got a job with dogs because the boss said my dog was solid because she looked him in the eye. She won loads of Best Cross Breeds and Pretty Girl classes in her lifetime and my first Rough Collie that year was her companion.
Gwen Jones (California) She was a husky X rescued from horrible conditions. She’d been trained, but, in my idealistic youth (22 years old), I equated training with abuse so I never enforced a single boundary. Kym was three when I got her and she was my constant companion. So many fun adventures together, and she always rode in the car with her head on my lap. She died when she was nine years old—when she saw my mom across the street and bolted for her, I realized I had no tools to stop her or recall her. I saw the look on her face and heard the truck coming, and I was powerless to stop her. I honored her by getting a dog that was just like her best friend, and I have been training dogs ever since.
Photo by Gwen Jones
Lynn Cashion Kosmakos (California) Dave Garroway was the host of the Today Show in the early 1950s, sponsored by Sargeant’s pet products. They had a promotional sweepstakes giving away a cocker spaniel pup, a son or grandson of My Own Brucie, the two-time Westminister winner. I have no idea how my father talked his brother, the winner, out of that dog. But I’m forever grateful because Black Velvet was the best friend a girl could have. Seventy years of my dog-centric life started with a TV contest that would never happen today.
Missy Masterson (Arkansas) Warning: this is not a “rainbows and butterflies” kind of story. My first dog was a German shepherd, male, received as a puppy for my birthday. It was a total surprise. We were very poor and I wasn’t expecting anything other than maybe my favorite meal cooked with some meat in it. Purple hull peas, cornbread, sweet tea, fried okra, and, if lucky, pork chops. I was in my bedroom when my mom called me for supper. I walked out of my room and there was this beautiful little puppy, running around with a blue package bow taped to his head! I was so excited, I fell to the floor crying and hugging him. Life for an only child can get mighty lonely, but I knew I’d never be lonely again. We were the best of friends, joined at the hip, and did everything together—sleeping, playing, exploring … I even read him bedtime stories. Fast forward a couple years. He contracted distemper and I spent an entire summer taking care of him, wrapping and cleaning his weeping glands, hand-feeding him, and always seeing he had what he needed. He got worse and the vet warned us if he went into convulsions, there would be no further chance at his recovery. One night my folks had gone out and he went into convulsions. It wouldn’t stop. I got my dad’s shotgun and put him out of his misery. When my folks finally got home hours later, I was asleep out back of the house with Smoky in my arms. I was nine years old. I’m crying now so I guess I never really got over it even though it’s been over 50 years. He was my first best friend. I can still see him running around with that little blue bow on his head. His friendship left an indelible mark on my heart and I’ve always had German shepherds since.
