These pictures are of my first dog, Forrest. I got him at a PetsMart in Beavercreek, Ohio. He was nine weeks old, and of course, adorable. I brought him home, and managed to housebreak him, using a playpen, a crate, and lots of positive reinforcement.
That dog was a chewer! He destroyed three pair of my glasses. But we were close. He was so well crate trained that all I had to do was start brushing my teeth and he would get in the crate. He was so smart that he knew the difference between "speak loud" and "speak soft." I would point my finger at him and say "bang," and he would roll over and play dead. He was a dominant dog, and I could never get him to roll over completely. I had to "alpha hold" him at times. But he was affectionate with me, and willing to learn. One day he got away from me and took off in the neighborhood. I went around calling him, but I lost him. I went home dejected, thinking he was gone. And there he was, in the house, looking out the front door at me, like, "where you been?"
He was aggressive at times, and one day in Oct of 2004, he got away from me and ran out at an elderly woman neighbor. He knocked her over. That night the lady's daughter called. I had to euthanize my "Forrest the Mutt."
I have my Laika now, and she's better pet than Forrest, but I miss him. I miss him, I miss him. The first few weeks after his death, I went around the house crying, "Where's my doggy?"
I still miss Forrest.
