Cody could be charming - in sometimes annoying ways. Cody loved to get treats; he was food-driven. But he soon tired of waiting and hoping that we humans would break down and give him a treat. So a little game developed that Cody played till he was at least two years old. When Cody was a pup, he thought it was great fun to grab any small personal item that happened to be on the floor and run off with it. The two top contenders for this game were a shoe or a small item of clothing. His absolute favorite was silky underwear. At first Cody would grab his found treasure - always with one of us looking - and run through the house with it so we would chase him and play with him. We humans didn’t always have time for this game so we would try to distract him with a tiny scoop of peanut butter on a teaspoon. Cody would drop the item, happily trot over to the human with the peanut butter, and we could then retrieve the purloined item. This was normally a two-person operation but could be achieved with just one person. The game became a refined masterpiece when Cody decided that the outcome was the best part of the game. Soon he was snatching the prescribed shoe or undie and running straight for the dining room table. Positioned under the table, right in the middle where we couldn’t easily reach him, Cody would be in a poised crouch, ready to dash off in any direction depending on how we tried to grab him. He would have his illegal item clamped firmly in his jaws, looking up at us with his mischievous chocolate-drop eyes, his tail wagging with delight. There was no mad dashing around the house now, just the challenge of a treat gladly exchanged for his stolen booty. So with his body quivering in excitement and anticipation, Cody would watch one of us casually walk down the hall (this was part of the game to make it last), then somehow acknowledge him with a statement like, “Okay Cody, here I come. You want some peanut butter?” From his safe position under the table, Cody would carefully watch as we went through the ritual of opening and closing the fridge, spoon in peanut butter jar, etc., talking to him the whole time. We would carefully put everything back in the fridge then finally turn to him with the laden spoon held out enticingly. Cody came happily into the kitchen to get his treat, discarding the snatched item without a thought. It worked every time. This game, which was totally Cody’s creation, soon came to our rescue in almost every situation where we would try to control Cody. Peanut butter was the sure-fire weapon to control Cody, from enticing him into the kitchen so we could put up the gate for the night, to gaining his cooperation and distracting him while we applied his monthly heart and flea meds, to talking him back into the house if he saw a little possum on the back yard fence and went ballistic with hysterical barking, to trying to get his halter over his head so we could go out for a walk. Cody would allow most anything for his beloved peanut butter treat – well, almost. I previously mentioned Cody’s fabulously strong hind legs. He could stand up on them and walk around the room if he so chose - which he did once. This was not a trick we taught him. This was Cody’s way of seeing on a higher level. He would mostly do a delightful two-legged dance when we were holding a treat just a little above his head. Then he would take the proffered morsel with the utmost gentleness. That was Cody’s adorable charming side. However, those tirelessly strong back legs were a source of endless frustration when we would put Cody out in the back yard by himself. We always tried to nudge him in the direction of normal dog behavior like forming a routine of doing his outside potty duty. Most dogs can be put outside to do this necessary chore at their leisure. But not Cody. As much as he avoided our touch (unless at his instigation), he loved our company. He demanded that at least one of his ladies accompany him outside at all times. If we tried to put him out by himself, he would rear up on those fabulous hind legs and pound, pound, pound on the patio glass doors with his front paws. He eventually pounded the screen cover doors off their sliding track; they had to be removed. Now he had immediate access to the sliding glass doors. This little furry dog that weighed less than ten pounds could pound so hard and so long that the entire house would shake and vibrate. In these areas, Cody had much more stamina than we did. A few seconds of his most aggressive pounding would gain him entrance back into the house. Cody always won this battle.
It was not discernible at first, but Cody would develop several problems as a result of an unfortunate condition. Because of too much in-breeding, Cody had a condition known as canine schizophrenia. A few (not all) symptoms associated with this condition are: eating feces, fear barking, fear of strangers, fear of unknown/changed items in the dog’s environment, disdain of being touched, uncontrolled fits of rage, severe biting attacks. Cody displayed all of these symptoms to varying degree from the very beginning. I first detected his problem with strangers that first Christmas. I brought a guest to the house to show off our beautiful Cody. I assumed he would be politely reserved and then accepting when I introduced my friend. Cody was pinned in the kitchen as usual and I knew he had detected my presence by the sound of his animated movements and breathing. When we came into his line of vision, Cody went into a hysterical, screaming, barking fit. I thought he was going to scream/bark his throat out. I looked at my friend and could tell that she was shocked and insulted. I didn’t know what to say. I had never seen any dog act this way. We left and I didn’t mention this to Dino. I don’t know why but I was very uncomfortable with it. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. My problem was solved when Cody did the same thing with one of her friends. There was no reason for such an outrageous reaction to strangers. We had all kinds of visitors during his puppyhood. But now that he was approaching one year old, all of the negative symptoms were starting to show. We had an increasingly difficult time getting Cody’s collar or halter on him. He fought it with all his strength, growling and even biting. As time passed, we finally gave up trying. Cody would not let anything go over his head. Before we reached this point, we tried everything we could think of to train Cody. We hired professional trainers, to no avail. One suggestion was to keep his collar and a lead on him all the time till he got used to it. Since a lead was way too long for Cody to drag around, we tied about two feet of a thin nylon rope to the collar that we did keep on him. Now this was a funny and sad thing. Cody would drag that thin rope every where. It was covered with mud and urine and God knows what else. It got so dirty that we had to do the peanut butter spoon trick to distract him while we carefully untied the rope for a good washing. The rope went back on and was useful in catching and holding him. But he was never receptive to any of our training efforts. Nothing worked. So, once again, Cody had more endurance and, therefore, also won this battle. In the beginning, we had no idea why Cody was this way. We were blaming ourselves for doing this, not doing that. This was before we heard about the canine schizophrenia. In the past, I had raised dogs effortlessly and they were perfect. The only thing I could figure was that he was so lonely being left alone all day.
It was a sheer miracle that we were able to get Rocky. Out of the clear blue, Dino came home and announced that she had finally found the dog she wanted. The look on my face reflected the words that tumbled out of my mouth. “Are you crazy?” I’m sure you can guess that I started listing all the negatives, not the least of which was Cody’s unpredictable rages. Would Cody accept another dog? Would he hurt it? Kill it? Everything seemed against this. The dog Dino wanted was a Chihuahua puppy - certainly nothing big enough to stand up to Cody’s attacks. Also, the puppy was a male. Two male dogs - not a good mix. I could not understand where Dino was coming from, insisting on getting this dog. Completely at a loss, I talked to my best friend who has a special closeness with animals. I explained our situation, not holding anything back about Cody, and asked her opinion. This wonderful person did not even hesitate. She said a little friend would be wonderful for Cody. She somehow knew that Cody would accept a companion. She insisted that we get the dog. To tell you the truth, I did not believe her. I thought this spelled disaster in capital letters. But I completely trusted my best friend and told Dino that we could at least try a second dog. We went out to the breeder with Dino’s friend who had already purchased one of the pups of this litter. Sure enough, the one remaining pup was cute as can be - not beautiful but cute in a little hairless lab rat kind of way. So, we made the purchase and took the baby Chihuahua home. To say we were nervous is putting it mildly. We approached this first meeting with all the trepidation of an execution. When Cody first saw the little pup, I think he assumed it was one of the many stuffed toys we would always bring home for him. He lunged to grab his new toy and I swooped the pup back up into the air. I’m sure Cody thought I was teasing him because he wanted the new “thing” even more. I was carefully observing the situation and I could tell that Cody was lunging for the pup, not in a bad way but because he was so excited. We were afraid he would try to grab the puppy in his mouth like he did with all his toys. We grabbed the string on Cody’s collar and held him immobile, bringing the pup close for his inspection. Cody immediately realized that the new “thing” was alive. That was as close as we allowed Cody to get for the first day. We were very careful. Dino became obsessed with finding the perfect name for the new pup. She wanted something tough – just the opposite of such a little thing with such a sweet nature. She finally settled on “Rocky”. Now we had to bring these two animals together. I again called my dear friend to discuss my next move. She assured me that Cody would accept Rocky. She instructed me to sit next to the two dogs, well within reach of the puppy, but let them be together without restraint. This was the scariest thing I ever did. But, once again, I trusted my friend’s instincts. Dino was on the kitchen phone but watching me on the couch with the dogs. She asked if I needed help but I said I was okay. Cody jumped on the couch with me and I put Rocky between us. And then Cody sat down on the couch, perfectly still, just staring at Rock with the sweetest expression. His eyes were fixated on Rocky with a fascinated stare. His head was pointed down, not at all aggressive, more like he was focusing on this mysterious little thing with his whole being. Truly, I have never seen an animal so fascinated with something. And he looked like he was smiling. Finally, I took a large chance. I just sat back (but still within reaching distance) and let the two be together.
It was a miracle. I think Cody fell in love with Rocky. That’s the only way I can describe his actions and his facial expression. Luckily, Rocky was a very loving, non-aggressive puppy. He was no threat to Cody and the two got along like they were brothers. In fact, Cody started catering to Rocky in many unexpected ways. From letting Rocky have the first bite of food to giving up his cherished kennel, Cody was the perfect big brother. And, amazingly, Cody changed in other ways. Overnight, Cody gave up his game of stealing items for treats. He would share all his toys and rawhide chewies with Rocky. There was never any resentment of this new friend. From there we fell into a pattern. Much of the routine was the same. Cody still had to be pinned in the kitchen during the day and at night, but he had Rocky to keep him company. And during the evening his play out in the house was not filled with so many “accidents”. Another thing happened. As Rocky got older and bigger, he could follow Cody jumping on and off of the beds. For some reason, the dogs loved to play on the beds and would gradually move into the bedrooms as the evening came to an end. They would not show any resistance when they had to be pinned up for the night, but it became harder for us to leave them. Very gradually, we started to let them sleep on our beds at night. Mostly they slept on my bed. I think that’s because Dino’s bed is higher (the old fashioned kind) and it was harder for them to jump on and off in the dark. But before we knew it, “the boys” were sleeping on our beds as part of their routine. I wish I could say that all of Cody’s problems were solved. Not at all the case. He still could not tolerate strangers. Pounding on a door or wall to get his way was his habit. And he would attack and bite when he was afraid. He would even bite Dino and me when he was afraid. And he was afraid a lot. Maybe even more than before. But I’m glad I can say that he never hurt Rocky. Maybe Rocky knew to stay out of his way. In fact, Rocky let Cody do all the barking and attacking. During Rocky’s entire puppyhood, we never heard a peep out of him. Cody made enough noise for a dozen dogs. Our vet warned us that Cody’s condition was in-bred, we could not make it better and he would get worse. We did not want to believe this. We held to the belief that Cody can be controlled if you know what to look for.
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