Of Dogs and Possums: Part 2

(Photos by SCB)

The Pokey Possum

After my old dog, Trevor, had his unfortunate encounter with a possum, I was leery of them for a long time, and tried to ensure that none of my other animals would ever encounter one.  Unfortunately, one winter day Prince decided otherwise.

A rather large possum  (pictured above) had, for some unfathomable reason, decided to make its new home near the side of our shed.  Whether it was broad daylight or night time, it refused to budge, and no amount of yelling, stomping our feet or throwing objects around could convince it to change its mind.  Then came the morning when I was desperate to take Prince out and, not willing to have the possum get hurt, I decided to take him out on a regular leash.

It was the most disastrous decision I had ever made with him.

The instant Prince came out into the yard, his head lifted as he sensed the presence of something new.  One second later, he saw the possum and took off toward it.  I braced myself against his pull...and found myself flying through the air after him, unable to even slow the impetus of his rush toward it.

For several terrifying, helpless seconds I flew along behind him, screeching at him ineffectually.  Then I slammed into a tree headfirst, dropping the leash and going down on my knees as Prince hit the fence.

Prince relaxing after possum hunting

I've  heard it said that possums never move quickly, but I found out in that moment this was patently untrue. The possum moved so fast he seemed to disappear into thin air...leaving Prince barking after him in rage and myself on the ground, holding onto my head in agony.

I didn't speak to Prince for the rest of the day.  Later that night, when the possum came back, a friend helped us trap it and move it to another location far away, from whence it would never return.

I have never since then attempted to hold onto Prince when he was going after anything in the backyard.  I figure our backyard visitors will just have to fend for themselves...and they do.  Possums can actually move a lot faster than most people think they can...they just need the right impetus to get going.  And Prince is definitely that impetus.

Of Dogs and Possums: Part 1

Many years ago, I owned a mixed breed German Shepherd/Collie/Labrador named Trevor.  Trevor had a long list of behavioral challenges, but the one that got him into trouble the most frequently was his avid pursuit of wildlife that wandered into our yard.  Trevor knew no fear...until he pushed his prey just a little too far, and it retaliated against him.  One of the unlikely victims in this scenario was a possum.

There have always been a lot of possums in the area in which I live, and the time when I had Trevor was no exception.  I would find possums of all sizes in my yard both in the daytime and the night time.  When I asked a local wildlife official what I should do about them, as my dog seemed far too excited to see them, he said possums never go anywhere in a hurry...and he was right.  The time Trevor caught one was no exception.

Possums look mean...and, when it came to Trevor, I found out they actually are mean.  On this particular evening, I let him outside and he happened to find one near the edge of my yard, under my apple tree.  I think he was under the impression when he attacked it that it would be an easy victim...but he turned out to be tragically wrong.  As soon as he went after it, the possum leaped into the air and grabbed a hold of his muzzle with his teeth.

Thereafter followed a horrifying period of time (which probably lasted seconds, but seemed to last for an hour) wherein Trevor screamed and swung his head back and forth, and the possum held on.  I ran toward them, shouting (thinking maybe if I pulled Trevor away, the possum would let go) and as it caught sight of me, it suddenly did and fell on the ground in a dead faint.

I actually thought Trevor had killed it.  After carefully examining him (there was no blood!) and putting him inside, I returned with a flashlight to check on the possum.  He was still out cold, stretched out on his back in what appeared to be a dead faint.  I was afraid to touch him, but I shouted at him and picked up a broom and gently nudged him with it...to no avail.  Finally, I went back inside, resolving to go out and check on him again in half an hour.

This went on for an hour and a half...until I finally came out and found he had recovered and wandered away while I was inside.  Thankfully, he didn't leave any blood behind, either...yet he left me with a healthy respect for possums and a resolve never to let my dogs anywhere near them again.

As the years went on, many of my dogs would see possums and bark at them hysterically, but the possums never reacted.  They would simply stare at the dogs insolently, turn their backs or slowly plod away.  I believed what the wildlife official had told me...that there was no hurrying a possum...until Prince proved him wrong.

YouTube video of PrinceBlackstar!!

Prince and the Angry Skunk

Since we happen to live by a rather large wooded area, a variety of wild animals have walked past our yard and through it over the years, including raccoon, possums, deer, coyotes and, unfortunately, skunks.  One memorable summer evening, I was unlucky enough to let Prince out into the yard when one of the latter happened to be moseying along under our apple tree.

For years, I had been reading (and hearing) about other people's dogs' encounters with skunks, and had even looked up the recipe to get rid of the odor just in case it should happen to my dog.  Oddly enough, only a week earlier, a friend of my boyfriend's had been unlucky enough to have a skunk/dog encounter in his backyard, with the expected consequences.

Of course, as with everything else that happened with Prince, this, too, turned out to have an unexpected ending.

The instant I let Prince out in the yard, I sensed (or smelled?) that I had made a mistake of possibly epic proportions.  Prince, too, immediately realized that we had a visitor, but instead of displaying any prudence whatsoever, he went tearing after it, ignoring my screams of dismay.

Prince Contemplating His Good Luck

In the darkness, I could just make out Prince's silhouette as he landed on top of the skunk, and heard it snarl at him in a vicious manner.  I got ready to hold my breath, but the poor creature, obviously stunned by Prince's lack of respect for it (and perhaps by his size) never paused long enough to emit the slightest drop of skunk spray.  Instead, he fled for the fence, with Prince in hot pursuit, dove underneath it with a loud clanging noise and disappeared back into the forest, never to return.

Perhaps Prince just had a moment of exceptional luck, or maybe the skunk was simply too stunned by his audacity, but luck was certainly on his side that night.  I have, of course, exercised even more caution since that time when letting him out at night, and yes, I do still have the remedy to wash him in the event that he is not so lucky the next time.

Oddly enough, though, I have never had another skunk come into my yard...and hopefully never will.

Prince and the Construction Crew

Last summer, the city in which we live decided that some of the pipes under the sidewalk needed to be refitted (or replaced).  They subsequently sent out a crew of workers to dig them up and refit them...and the majority of the time, they worked in extremely close proximity to our house.

Prince and his big boy stick (branch?)

Being the friendly fellow that he is, Prince was delighted with all of the new company, and would bounce over to greet them each time they happened to pass by.  Not surprisingly, the crew was a lot less happy to see him.  Each time they walked by, they would cast rapid, uneasy glances in his direction, and then look at us as if seeking reassurance.  The foreman, especially, seemed acutely aware of the danger.

"He doesn't realize he could just step over that fence, does he?" he asked one day, as he passed by with a member of his crew.

"He's actually very friendly," I said...and received the usual highly skeptical look.

Then came the balmy summer afternoon when I took Prince on a walk through the park...and emerged from it to find 20 of the crew members directly in the path that we had to take home. Trying not to alarm them, I approached as slowly as possible...until one of them saw us coming and shouted a warning.

A special smile

"He's really very friendly," I said to the foreman, who gave me another disbelieving look before he slowly and gingerly offered his hand to Prince.  When Prince sniffed and then licked it, he stared at him in astonishment.

"He really is friendly," he said, in wonder.  He then directed us immediately toward the crew, several members of which were on their hands and knees on the sidewalk.

"Bite them right there," he told Prince, pointing at their backsides.  All of them immediately sat down.

"He's really very friendly," I repeated, but none of the rest of them seemed to believe me.  After passing through their midst, Prince and I reached the final obstacle...a man with a large truck parked directly on the sidewalk, who flung himself back in fear as we reached him.

"He's very friendly," I said again.

He, too, put out his hand...and then slowly smiled as Prince licked it.  "He's sure isn't like most German Shepherds I've met," he told me.

"Well, no," I admitted.  Because, of course, Prince isn't.

But sometimes that really is a good thing!

German Shepherds and Children: Prince Meets His Match

The first time Prince began to  bark at a child, I immediately assumed that he had been upset by something that the child had unintentionally done.  I thought the child might have shrieked, moved too quickly or even showed him some object he was not accustomed to.  I realized I was wrong when Prince met Selena.

When  Selena was a baby, her mother would frequently pass my yard pushing her in a stroller...and Prince would bark at them to the point that the mother would become uncomfortable.  I thought it was because her stroller reminded him of a lawn mower (like many other dogs, Prince has always had a strong reaction to mowers).  The real reason for his barking, however, became apparent when he encountered her later, when she was big enough to walk.

A Bottle!

We were passing the house that she lived in when she unexpectedly came toddling toward us, and stopped immediately in front of the fence that we were walking by.  I saw her grandfather start to come after her, but immediately change his mind when he saw Prince.  Prince himself barely seemed to notice her when she was within touching difference, until she shouted at him.

At first, he looked at her with an expression that almost seemed to convey surprise. Then his tail began to wag, faster and faster, and his ears went all the way down, and he put his nose through the fence and began to nuzzle and then lick her face as she grabbed at him.  That was when I had my epiphany.

Prince and his Bottle

Prince was not barking at her (or any of the other children) because he felt aggressively toward them.

Prince was barking at them because he wanted their attention, and as soon as they gave it to him, he stopped barking.

This is one "trait" that Prince continues to possess to this day.  He still barks at small children and babies...until they come close enough that he can sniff and lick them. Then he immediately stops until they move away.  He actually does the same thing with any of the neighbors who pass by that normally talk to him or pet him.  If they fail to do so immediately, he will bark at them until they do what he wants them to.

Somehow, and I really am not sure why, I have ended up with an inordinately friendly German Shepherd Dog.  He likes ALMOST everybody...there are a few notable exceptions, but for the most part, Prince actually thinks that almost everyone wants to be his friend.  I think part of the reason may be because he has met so many people.  Another part may be that he has never been hurt by a human being.  Since Prince has never been afraid of anyone, he has never had to act aggressively to anyone.

Prince's attitude has surprised a lot of people...but perhaps no one was more surprised than the crew of construction workers that we happened to run into last summer.

German Shepherds and Children Part 5: The Little Girl in the Pink Pants

Having had only positive experiences with German Shepherds during my own childhood, I expected Prince to love children...especially since he seemed to love almost everyone else so much.  At first, it seemed he did.  During the first year I walked Prince, we actually met a small boy in the park that Prince was delighted to meet.  Therefore, the first time a small child happened to wander past my yard unattended, I actually smiled in anticipation of the delight that she and Prince would find in each other.  As she toddled past my back yard fence, I calmly waited for Prince to notice her, and smiled as he rushed toward her, coming to a stop in front of her inside the fence.

I can still remember that long moment as her tiny head turned toward him, and his giant head loomed over her.  For a second, I thought she was going to smile, and maybe Prince did, too, because his tail wagged the slightest bit.

Then she screamed.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that she was terrified by the sight of an animal 10 times larger than herself, but Prince took her reaction very personally.  He began to bark at her...loudly...and since he was standing immediately before her, the noise must have been deafening.  The poor little thing turned to flee, still screaming, and suddenly (and unfortunately) Prince turned into a herding dog.

Every way she tried to run, he was there, his hindquarters up and his head down, barking in her face.  When she turned right, he was there.  When she turned left, he was there.  Eventually her mother heard her and came racing up the street to grab her, paused when she saw Prince, and then, in an act of heroic bravery, dashed forward, grabbed her daughter, and fled.  All the while, the little girl was still screaming and Prince was still barking.

Once his daughter had been rescued, her father came marching toward my house in a fury, probably to chastise me for my dog's behavior.  The only amusing part about the entire incident was that when he saw Prince, he turned on his heel without breaking stride and marched back to his house without saying a word.

Disappointed by Prince's reaction (Prince loves almost everyone!), I discussed it with my sister.  After she discussed it with a friend, she relayed that it was probably the screaming that had gotten Prince so excited, and that was why he had barked at her so much.

At the time, it seemed like a reasonable explanation, or at least one I found vaguely comforting.  As with so many things about Prince, however, it turned out to be an erroneous assumption.

German Shepherds and Children Part 4 - Prince II

Years ago, I read an article about German Shepherds that claimed while they were good with their own family's children, they tended to be less so with the children of other people.  In my own personal experience, there is no better example of this than Prince II...the first dog we owned after Prince William.

Prince of Holland was a beautiful sable German Shepherd that was bred by a work associate of my father. When this man told my father about the puppies, my father decided to go ahead and get one for us.  This time, it was my younger sister who was allowed the privilege of picking out our next dog, who, unfortunately, turned out to be a colossal mistake.

In retrospect, we should have known from the start that Prince II was not the best bred German Shepherd, because when my father and sister went to pick him out, his mother had to be confined so that she wouldn't attack them.  I've heard it said that it's always best to meet a puppy's parents before you take it home, and it certainly would have applied in Prince's case.

From the start, Prince had problems.  He was extraordinarily difficult to housebreak and inordinately submissive.  Any time an adult man would try to grab him or even pet him, he would urinate and sometimes even scream.  He was destructive, as well...any time he was left alone for an extended period of time, he would tear apart everything from furniture to books to toys.  My father immediately pronounced him to be a fear biter...a badly bred dog that, according to him, should have been destroyed, and would have been if he had been bred for the military.  His remedy for this was to punish him by hitting him with a rolled up newspaper, which was traumatic both for Prince and for us.  Every time Prince had an accident, I would cringe in my room and cover my ears, not wanting to hear the noise of his being punished, because I loved Prince.

All three of us (my sisters and I) adored him.  This was in spite of the fact that he was extraordinarily "nippy" and would frequently nip us by accident, usually drawing blood.  We always forgave him because when we cried, he would cry with us...sitting right up against us and howling until we stopped crying in order to comfort him.  We called him Princee, and in our eyes, he could do no wrong.

When Prince tore things up, we picked up the pieces and hid them so nobody would know.  When he nipped us by accident, we pretended something else had happened.  When he had an accident, we cleaned it up.  When our next door neighbor bent over to work in her garden by our fence, and Prince nipped her hair through the links, we defended him and said she had been yelling at him first.  And Prince adored us all in return.  He always wanted to be with us, was always delighted to play with us and was always there to comfort us when we were sad.

One day, my younger sister invited a friend over, and when the friend ran across our back yard, Prince ran after her and grabbed her by the arm.  In spite of the fact that the little girl was unperturbed by his actions, and he didn't even bruise her, my father decided it was the end of the road for Prince.  The next day when we came home from school, Prince was gone.

Initially, my father told us he had given him away to a policeman.  Later, he admitted he had had Prince destroyed, because he was convinced Prince would end up hurting somebody.  At the time, I wondered why my father, who had trained dogs in the military, didn't take the time to train Prince better, but when I asked him this, he said it would have been impossible.

Oddly enough, of all the dogs we had during my childhood, I loved Prince II the most.  I think it was because he loved us so very much.  He might not have been good with other people's children, and he wasn't exactly the best with us, but I still miss him, and he is the dog I named my Prince Black Star for.