Who's the Special Op Dog?

There's a lot of speculation about the Special Ops Dog which accompanied the Mission in Pakistan.

Was it a German Shepherd or another breed? (Most Special Op Dogs are either German Shepherds or Belgian Malinois)

Did it have titanium fangs? (Yes....some of the Special Op Dogs have a titanium cover fitted over their front fangs so their bite can pierce personal armor. Can you imagine anything scarier than a big growling dog with shiny steel fangs? I'm thinking Stephen King Novel here)

Was he a bomb dog or a tracker? (Apparently, dogs don't multi-task anymore. They are specifically trained to be explosive sniffers or human trackers)

Did he carry equipment? ( Most dogs don't go fur-only anymore into a job. They have flack jackets to protect them from bullets or knives....they can have collars with an intercom and/or camera attached so their handler can talk to them as well as see what they see...and some have a short pole that sticks up from their flack jacket with a flashing light so their trainers can see them in dark/foggy conditions)

Was he a Euro Dog or an American Dog? ( Most of the military dogs have been bred in Europe where there is a strong tradition of breeding dogs for military use. In recent years, there's been talk that the US is starting to breed dogs here)

There's lots of possibilities......

but


I know ONE THING for CERTAIN

MY DOG was not involved or would ever be considered
as his specialty is sleeping in t he sun.

I love my dog...lol

"Ozzzieeeeeeeeeee!"

I spin around ready to scold him.

I'm rubbing my forehead with one hand....and covering up my butt with the other hand.

Ozzie is looking up at me with devoted eyes, a dog grin and a tail wagging from side to side.

He looks like he's either thinking this is the way all mornings should start or it's time for breakfast.

I think it's the later...but then again.... who really understands male ecstasy?

Besides.... how do you teach a dog not to stick his cold wet nose in your private parts....when you bend over to get your clothes out of the dryer and your fresh from your shower and wearing only a robe?

Is it Bowwwwowow wow? or Bow wow wow wow Bow?

And how do you teach him that your butt is different from the poodle butt sashaying past him on the sidewalk?

I don't say a thing and just bend over to give him a big hug.

.

He looks like he knows he's hit the jackpot.

Food, water, safety, warmth, a territory, walkies and an occasional good butt smell.

Dog heaven.

I've owned several dogs since I graduated from college....but I've never owned a smart, calm, non-goofy one till Ozzie.

My past canine friends were notorious for their quirkiness.

Buster the Beagle....a hole digging...incorrigible baying hound. I took him to obedience school. We won second place in the final trails. When we came home, ribbon in hand, he peed on the couch.

Minnie the Weimaraner. Dumber than a bag of hammers. Ate steel wool pads, stole food off the kitchen counter, and tried to dig into the floor during thunderstorms.

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Mike the Mealy. Not his fault. Abused puppy...forever submissive and showing us his wienie at the slightest provocation. Yell at someone to pick up their shoes.....there's Mike on his back...leg up...wienie exposed. Good boy....put your leg down.

With this type of history, it's rather amazing to say...."Go downstairs " and Ozzie walks down the stairs...or find your shoes still have mates in the morning or even calling down the street...."Ozzie come back" and HE DOES.

And yet...he is also strong and beautiful.... beautiful in the way...he is an animal.

60 pounds of muscles ....leaping over bushes and tree trunks....the bulk...the mass...the shine of his fur in the sunlight.. a healthy, fit, substantial animal.

When a large or powerful animal...turns to obey you....to follow you....it's thrilling and primal.

.

Horses....hawks...elephants...when these animals pair with us....we feel stronger.

When a shaking chihuahua or hamster burrows in our arms....we become protective....even nurturing...it's a different set of feelings.

.

I peek out of my office to see where Ozzie is right now....

.

He is in the foyer on our first floor.... asleep on a small blanket I put there for him....his people are upstairs....our other pet, our deaf dog, who depends on him to be her protector...is blissfully asleep downstairs.

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He is in between and right by the front door...fully engaged in his doggy business....knowing where everyone and every other animal is in the house...and guarding the path which allows strangers into the house.

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You just gotta love a dog like that.......

.

Goodnight Ozzie.....

Ozzie and me

Nothing beats a brisk walk in the bright winter sunlight late in the afternoon. Ozzie and Me stop by the bridge near our house to watch some ducks drift by on the stream.

Ozzie

I set my morning alarm 32 minutes earlier today than yesterday and when it rang, instead of stepping into the shower, I pulled on an assortment of mismatched grunge clothes and laced up my old tennis shoes.

I headed down to the laundry room and as soon as I entered the room a big thump thump thump noise greeted me.

I peered down into the brand new kennel and chuckled. We haven't had a dog with a tail in a zillion years....so the thump thump thump of I'm-happy-to-see-you....was a new sound for me.

Ozzie popped out of the cage, stretched his neck to receive his chain and lease, and we headed out the door.

His tail was like a crazy windshield wiper blade....flicking side to side as we walked down the dark street.

A blast of wind and a million crunchy oak leaves raced in front of us. Ozzie sat down. I bent over to pet him. He put his muzzle next to my cheek and left it there. I guess a new neighborhood with strange herds of leaves can be frightening.

I never expected to get another dog. When we put our last dog to sleep months ago, hub and I agreed that one dog, one cat, one lizard and one fish was enough. The Inn was full.

Ten days ago, just before I tossed the newspaper into the recycling bin.....I placed the end section on the counter top and browsed through it. I never do that....there's just ads and filler. I turned the page....and there.....was a picture of Ozzie....featured dog of some animal rescue group.

I knew instantly he was going to be our dog but I thought I would test fate.

"Hey, look at this dog, it looks like Mattie except in brown."

My hub was supposed to say, "Now now, we're not looking for another dog."

Instead he said, "really?"

Hmmm....the reality-checking spouse script wasn't being followed.

So I tried again, "6 years old, affectionate, gentle, friendly and gets along with other dogs."

He was supposed to say, " Well let's be practical we agreed on a one dog rule."

"Sounds good."

Wrong wrong wrong hub. This is dangerously off the script.

So I tested fate even more by emailing the lady and asking her to describe him including any questionable habits and traits.

"He seems to be a calm happy affectionate dog with no problems. Why don't you come by and visit him?"

Since I was working that day, I threw the final test at hub. "Hey why don't you go check Ozzie out at Petsmart."

"What time?"

If hub is going to drive across town on a Saturday morning to look at a dog......you might as well buy a new box of dog biscuits....cause this is smelling like a done deal.

When I called him to ask about Ozzie, he was chuckling. "He's a great dog."

And so.....Ozzie....bypassed the new rule of the house and leaped over fate's barricades to find a place on the soft rug, the dog rug, on the outskirts of the kitchen.

And so as of 11am today....the new rule of the house is: two dogs, one cat, one lizard, one fish.

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