They do exist. I know that is a controversial statement to many. And this post is not at all intended to throw any shade or make anyone feel less about the dog they have not fitting the idea of “perfect”, but as someone who has had multiple dogs for most all of my life, I can say I have had a few “perfect dogs”. That doesn’t mean that I don’t love the dogs that have challenged me, it doesn’t mean those dogs are less then. Here’s the thing I have sort of figured out about all of this along the way, a “perfect dog” is really just a dog whose personality and characteristics fit yours perfectly. It’s the combination of your personalities builds a relationship that creates this feeling of perfect. So it’s a dog being your perfect fit. In my life I have had several of these dogs. I have also had a few oil and water dogs 🤣. I don’t love those dogs any less, in fact sometimes I even end having a closer bond in the end because we had to work so hard for it.

My first perfect dog was a German shepherd named Prince. I know, I know, I had some much cooler bad ass ideas for names, but from day one he was a Prince. He was the first dog I had that gave me this feeling instantly that a missing piece of my soul had finally been replaced. He felt like home. His personality fit me to perfection. He was affectionate but not clingy. He read me so well and knew when to cuddle in close or hang by my feet. In his entire lifetime he went potty in the house twice, the first time when he was 6 months old and my brother moved back home, he slept on the floor in my room and during the night Prince peed on his head to let him know he was not ok with this arrangement. The last time was when his body was failing him the day before he left this earth. The first dog to also take a part of my soul with him when he left.

Prince was officially my first dog. I had others before, but they were dogs siblings or my mother had brought home. Blue, the husky was the first dog who I considered mine, my brother bringing her home when I told him he should. But Prince, he was the dog I waited my whole childhood for, the first dog I ever picked out for myself. He was a cheap backyard bred newspaper ad puppy. His litter raised under a double wide trailer. He probably wasn’t all German shepherd, they “couldn’t find the papers for the dad” but hey, that’s why I could actually afford this puppy. The dog I had been waiting for. Been begging most of my life for.

When we cleared out my Mother’s belongings from our guest room, where she had taken her last breaths two years prior, we found the letters I wrote her every single birthday, every single Christmas saying the ONLY thing I wanted was a German shepherd puppy. No other kind of puppy would do, it had to be a German Shepherd. My mother was against it from the start, those days German shepherds were the pit bulls of today, the breed everyone said would turn on you and eat you. Not to mention we never had the kind of money to buy a purebred dog, even the backyard bred purebred dogs were always out of our budget, we were more the free puppy in a cardboard box at the grocery store budget. The idea of giving her youngest child a man eating dog was something she said no to over and over again. But it had to be a German shepherd, no other dog would do.

🤣😂 Emotional blackmail perfected at such an early age

So many of these, roller coasters of pleads and hate mail threats 😂

Finally my moment came. I saw an ad in the paper for a litter of unregistered purebred German shepherd puppies for only $50 a piece. I had that much in my piggy bank. But more importantly my mother was in one of her post break up emotional lows, the magic moment in life where she would reach to me for comfort and I could most easily bend her to my will. It was my super power, being able to read her moods like a book, so good at it that throughout childhood my brothers would give me a list of things they wanted and we would barter deals as I knew just how to work those weak moments. But now with them living on their own, this time I could take this moment all for myself. I crawled in bed, snuggled up close, she wrapped her arms around me and told me I should sleep with her tonight and that we could watch old TV movies.

I slowly slid in my presentation, I carefully baited her, having learned after years of failed negotiations not to rush right in. Her break up left her feeling a little vulnerable so I slid in how nice it would be to have a dog that made us feel more safe, careful not to say GSD. I talked about how perfect the timing was. Slid in how well I was doing in school and how responsible I had been with helping with the house chores since it was now just her and I living together, my siblings all having stayed behind when we moved from Pennsylvania to Florida. I laid the perfect trap! She fell right into it “oh honey, I would really like to say yes, but I just don’t have the money right now to pay for a puppy”.

“So it’s just about the money? If I can pay for a puppy myself I can get one?” I slyly confirm.

Under estimating how long I had been preparing for this moment she replies “yes, if you could afford to buy your own puppy I wouldn’t stop you”.

“Yay! Ok when can we go get him? Should I call and make the appointment?”

“Wait? What do you mean? You can’t afford a German shepherd, what kind of puppy is it?” Her eyes wide with worry being caught in my trap.

“It’s a German shepherd! He’s only $50, and I have it all ready see!” I show her my pile of ones and stacks of rolled coins. I show her the ad in the paper.

She sighs and stares at me, with that look I've seen many times when she probably contemplates what kind of monster she has created. “Ok call, get directions and we can go tomorrow after school” she says as she pulls me into a tight hug “You clever little shit” she whispers into my hair.

We pull up to the trailer, a stream of 10 puppies run from under the trailer and swirl around climbing our legs begging for attention. My mom and aunt each scoop up puppies “how about this one” they each say. But my eyes are fixed on the one that is still sitting by the trailer, staring at me, deciding if we were worth his time. That’s the one, I knew immediately, I want the one that is NOT a suck up. I mean now as a professional I know this was probably not a wise decision for a kid to pick put the least social puppy of the lot. But I knew the moment I saw him right there, sitting like a perfect gentleman as his littermates acted like loons that it had to be him. I sat down a few feet away and as other puppies jumped all over me I coaxed him over. He came over and stood beside me, giving my hand a little gentle lick, as I pried one of his sisters from my hair and pulled another one off my shoelaces. I scooped him up, handed the lady my pile of currency “It’s all there I promise, I triple counted all the change as I rolled it up”.

“You got the best one kid” as she ruffled Prince’s head he sat politely in my arms. I am sure she said that to each one as they left, but I was certain it was actually true, that he was the best one.

On the way home we stopped at a feed store where I picked out a collar and grabbed a sack of Purina Puppy Chow. I stood by the car as Mom loaded the food, a lady came up and said hello and asked about my new puppy. Do you know what? That lady in that moment shaped the course of my life.

“That little pup is going to need some training!” she said as she wrote on a little piece of paper she pulled from her purse. “Here, this is the phone number for the member of the Indian River Dog Training Club that books the classes. You can start obedience classes when he is 6 months old. Be sure and call right away as they always have a waiting list.”

See my German shepherd is already making my life better, total stranger on the street just talked to me. “Do you know how much it costs? I might need to start saving since I just used a lot of my savings to buy him.”

“It’s $40 for 10 weeks. And you will need to also have $12 for the leash and training collar they will fit him with your first night.” Phew, I still have most of that leftover as I had saved and stashed away almost $100 without Mom knowing. Sure I should probably have offered some of it up when she talked about struggling to make rent. But surely the monthly checks my dad sent from across the country paid for my share? I still remember the 6 months I lived with my Oma who got those checks, after feeding and housing me put the rest in a savings account for me, at the end of the 6 months I had enough for a new bicycle! So I kept my stash secret. Sure most of it was from me embezzling little bits of change from her when she sent me to the store and most of the rest the spare change I collected from car ash trays, couch cushions. So technically it was all her money but you know, finders keepers laws clearly apply here.

I called as soon as I got home and added my name to the list. It was going to take some strong negotiations to figure out how to get rides all the way out to the training hall! In the end much easier than I anticipated, I just used the “well I should probably train him really well so he doesn’t turn on us and eat us” she agreed that was worth her giving up a few hours each Wednesday evening for 10 weeks. I was so excited for the first class! It was an orientation without the dogs, all of us owners seated on folding chairs listening to the class instructor, an actual drill sergeant, ok probably not a drill sergeant, but he was retired military and was an all business no nonsense kind of person, exactly what my imagination expected as an expert German shepherd trainer.

I was fairly traumatized the first night of class with Prince as he was immediately fit with a slip (choke) collar, and the look of absolute devastation on his face when he felt it tighten around his neck the first time when I did exactly as instructed to pop up and push on his bum to make him sit. I was ready to cry. So I quickly grabbed the clip of the leash and moved it to the ring they told us not to use since it would not make the collar tighten. And I just whispered “sit” and pretended to push on his bum, he didn’t need pushing, he already knew how to sit. During class the instructor came over and fixed my leash, then I snuck it back. I would sooner get kicked out than see that look on my sensitive dogs face ever again. I wasn’t brave enough to say anything, but I was clever and I made it through the whole 9 weeks by cramming at home during the week on our homework without using the collar as instructed, instead using begging, pleading, suggesting and my dog figuring out what I wanted. (If you are wondering, this is long before most trainers used treats to train dogs, so that was not something I knew anything about until later that year when Vicki, that same lady who walked up to me at the feed store flew all the way to California to go to a seminar called “Sirius Puppy” with Ian Dunbar who spoke about reward based dog training. That training was more about training pet dogs than the competition based classes presented by the dog training clubs, so it was a fun time of everyone experimenting how to apply these ideas to competition training.)

We made it through all 9 weeks and at graduation, which I expected to be my last evening in that training hall, I got a special prize for being the best in class, afterwards Vicki came over and congratulated us. She then told me that weekend there was a fun match, a mock dog show where they would have obedience competitions and that I should come with Prince. What?!!! Me and my dream dog at a dog show, how freaking fancy is that?! “I have to ask my Mom if she will take me”.

“Ok, let her know she can drop you off, we will all show you what to do and you can hang out with us until she comes back for you, it’s an all day affair and you are welcome to stay as little or as long as you want, I’ll bring an extra chair for you". I smiled as she told me how I should because I have a knack for this. My chest about exploding with pride, my existence being recognized and my dream dog at my side making my life better every single day. The way he would sit beside me quietly and calmly every time I ran from the house, grounding me to an earth I so desperately wanted to escape from. At 8 months old he was already the wisest little gentleman on earth and somehow these people thought I had something to do with it. I spent the afternoon bartering with my Mom to secure a ride and permission to go spend a day with these people I only knew from dog training club. It was close enough to on her way to work that she agreed fairly easily as long as I was ok staying all day as she couldn’t get me until after her shift. Stay ALL day at a dog show, twist my arm please.

She dropped me off with my packed lunch and even gave me some spending money on top of what I needed for the entry fee, I didn’t tell her I already had some tucked in the zipper pocket on the side of my Kangaroo shoes. I was a nervous wreck, my stomach so full of butterflies I had no room for breakfast. Prince was of course a Prince as I walked him through the crowd of people and all the dogs organized in rings separated into rings with little wooden barriers. Fancy show dogs of all different kinds trotting in circles and being examined by judges. I found my way to the obedience rings and Vicki helped me sign Prince up. He wasn't registered but since it was a fun match that was ok. She told me how I could send a special form into the AKC with pictures of him since he clearly looked like a German shepherd and we could get a special registration to compete in obedience at real dog shows. She had already plotted my future dog training life out for me. 🤣 Even though I had already told her I would not be continuing on in the advanced classes as I had exhausted my savings on the first class and my mom couldn’t afford more classes. But she seemed to ignore that part as she explained to me what was going to happen when Prince and I went in the ring. Oh my god I might throw up. She showed me how to watch the pattern the judge used with the dogs in the ring ahead of me so I would know what to expect and all I needed to do was wait for her to tell me. That we would be fine, it wasn’t any harder than graduation at class.

I don’t really remember what happened in the ring because I was so nervous I thought I would pass out the whole time and was just concentrating on not passing out and not vomiting so I don’t remember what we actually did. But Vicki and her friends told me we did great. Then we had to go back in again with all the other dogs and have our dogs all do sit and down stays in a big long row. In my head I kept reminding myself the pattern, say stay AS I give the hand signal, walk out across the ring with the others, turn and face my dog, when told to go back, go all the way around behind him until I am back at his side so he is at my heel, do not talk to him or touch him until the judge says “exercise finished”. Perfect Prince, like a little statue in a line of dogs waiting patiently. The judge telling as she walked by which dogs passed and should come back into the ring at the end for the ribbon ceremony, and she said our number as she walked by! We did it! We passed. I don’t have to throw up anymore. It felt like my feet left the ground for the rest of the day after the judge placed a 3rd place ribbon in my hand! Out of over 40 dogs we were 3rd place! I was hooked. I didn’t know how, but I knew I wanted to keep doing this.

Bill, the president and lead instructor of the training club came up to me and congratulated me and said he would like to speak to my Mother when she picked me up. “Vicki said it was ok if I came and stayed here with her today” I said apologetically, sure I was in some kind of trouble.

“You are not in trouble. You did a fantastic job, I just want to talk to her about something”. He assured seeing my concern. I sat and watched him with his two shelties competing at the highest level at the competition. Man, those dogs were perfect, not a foot out of place. I also watched Vicki and her magic little dog Slipper, the sweetest golden retriever I ever did meet compete. She had raised Slipper for Seeing Eye dogs, but she was too sensitive about traffic noises so she was able to adopt Slipper from the program. Wendy with her Rottweiler Axel, her best friend Barbara with her Italian Greyhound Woody rounding out the “cool folks” of the obedience club who had somehow decided I needed to hang with them. Vicki explaining every detail of what was happening in the rings to me, what handlers were doing well, what they needed to work on as Prince snoozed in the grass at my feet now that his work was done and his owner was no longer a jittering nervous wreck he could relax.

When I saw our van pulling up, no missing it, an extra long Ford econoline that my brothers had a couple years ago taken multiple different colors of spray paint to, writing “Are you experienced???” in gigantic graffiti style letters on both sides of the van during their Hendrix phase. I ran over waving my ribbon in my hand. I told her Bill wanted to talk to her, but it was ok, I wasn’t in trouble. I drug her over to where he was. My jaw hit the ground when he told my Mom that he and the rest of the club had talked about it, that they wanted to offer me a job, in exchange for having all of my club and class fees covered they would also give me $50 a month for a fund to be used to pay for show expenses, if I would come each week an hour before class and roll out all the ring mats, help assisting with the classes and then help Bill sweep up and put all the mats away. It would require someone to drive me but if my family could provide that, they would really like to see me continue training. I watched my Mom’s face flash with pride as he told her what a great kid I was and how good at this I was. I didn’t even need to convince her, she instantly said she would be sure I was there each week as promised. Bill looked at me and said it was my choice, but if I said yes I had to commit to the job for at least a year since they were paying for my annual club fees. “Think about it, your interests might change, you might decide you want to play soccer or another sport at school and this commitment might affect that. If you decide you want to take the job, show up at 4:30pm on Wednesday and I will show you what to do.”

“I don’t need to think about, I hate soccer, the answer is yes!” I chirped out.

“Talk to your Mother and have a think on it, it’s ok if you change your mind, otherwise I will see you Wednesday”.

“See you Wednesday at 4:30pm!”

Over the next few years, Vicki, Wendy, Barbara all took turns cramming me and my big German shepherd into their cars already loaded with their own dogs and ferrying me to the various shows. Bill took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew, I picked up many side dog jobs. I did pet sitting, breeders of show dogs hired me to come bath and groom dogs every weekend, I got a regular weekend job at a vet clinic so I would work the clinic in the morning and spend the afternoons and evenings grooming show dogs, a lady who bred Irish Setters who lived around the corner hired me to run her show dogs after school during the week. By the time I turned 16 and learned how to drive I had saved enough to buy an old beat up car and was able to join in so many more dog events. I added nights at the fields with the folks training tracking dogs, joined the therapy dog groups. Basically every waking hour that I was not in school I was doing dog people stuff.

Prince remained perfect. We fit together like we had always known each other. He was happiest just chilling at my side. He would follow me as I ran Irish Setters, he would sit at my side as I cleaned 18 black and tan coonhound ears, he would lay on his bed in the corner at the vet clinic as I prepped dogs and cats for spay/neuter surgeries, he laid on the stage of the training hall as I assisted teaching classes, as I swept and rolled mats. He wasn't flashy or fast about anything, but he was there, always at my side ready for whatever I asked of him. He was the grounding force in a very chaotic life. He was the dog I had dreamt about. The loyal dog that would move by my side and carry me through a very difficult childhood and later walk me down the aisle and be at my side as I married the Hiker Hubby. He never needed more of me than I could easily give. He never chewed anything up, he never dug holes, never jumped on people, he laid in my room while I was at school, waiting by the door when I got home. He slept across the base of my bedroom door every night for 12 years. My personal sentry. He provided me with a feeling of safety and companionship I had craved for years. He was the dog people would look at leave me alone or cross the street to avoid us as we walked. Though he was never aggressive and was a perfect gentleman, he was a large well trained GSD and people yielded space to him automatically.

way beneath his dignity! Sadly all the photos not shared on social media burned in the fire so I don’t have any of him carrying the basket with our rings down the aisle. basically he walked me down the aisle, was best man and ring bearer all in one.

Yes, my hands on him and him always at my side no matter what

My perfect gentleman allowing a man to take my hand. He did have a proper talk with Hikerhubby early on during a playful wrestling session that he was prepared should I give the word.

When I say we fit, again it was our mix being perfect for each other. Neither of us would likely fit very many others ideal of perfect. My school life sucked, I had no friends my age. I was the target of all the bullies, being the poor kid from the weird family in a very affluent school. I was never welcome in any circles, not even the nerds or band of outcasts would have me. To be frank my family probably just scared the shit out of everyone. My brothers had both moved down to Florida within a year of us leaving, one running from dealers, who was now in his acid trip hippie tie dye Deadhead phase and the other in his Mohawk Punk Rock phase. And my Mother’s revolving door of boyfriends, the beekeeper, the dumpster diver, the way too into WWF wrestling, the yogi, the one that almost got us roped into a cult. Random people living in our front yard, backyard and garage that followed my brother home from Dead concerts or Rainbow gatherings, the 6ft tall blonde guy named Blue with dreadlocks down to his ass that walked around our yard naked or wearing only a skirt. My other brother’s skinhead friends with names like “Death” dressed all in leather, which I cannot imagine given how fucking awful it is to stand up from the leather car seat the heat and humidity wanting to keep your skin in the seat.

Hence the feeling of safety having my big German shepherd who peed on my brother’s head that one night he tried to sleep on the floor of my room. My brother would tell all of those he brought home and my mother’s various boyfriends, “don’t mess with that dog, he stood over me, looked back at me staring into my eyes with a look that bore it’s way to my soul as he lifted his leg and pissed on my head, that clearly communicated he would accept no one messing with my sister”. It had to be a German shepherd. I needed exactly that, the dog that would keep me safe from the monsters my family walked through our front door. The ones that visited my room at night, before my sentry blocked the way. The perfect dog that wrapped all the way around all my wounds. The dog that opened my world up to people who were kind and caring. Thankfully this band of dog people came into my life and filled the lonely void I had lived with. As I said, that first day I held my Perfect Prince in my arms he and a nice lady named Vicki set the course of my life. The dog that walked me right straight into a lifelong career. That brought me to the good people and kept the bad ones at bay.

Perfect Dogs

Dogs are the gods of play