The Puppy

I am a huge fan of Doberman Pinschers. The breed was originally developed by a German named Karl Friedrich Louis Doberman, who was a dog-catcher and a tax collector; since he traveled through many bandit-infested areas, he had the desire to "build" a perfect dog to help him through those rough patches of ground. I'm sure that after many trial and error tests, he came up with the finished product: The Doberman Pinscher, which he felt was the perfect combination of strength, loyalty, intelligence, and ferocity. Since then, they have been used as guard dogs, watch dogs, and police/military dogs.

In fact, the first true use of military dogs inside of the US Military occurred during World War II; the United States Marine Corps was, in fact, the first branch of the military to ever use dogs in combat. In fact it was the battle of Bouganville, in the Pacific Theater, on 1 November 1943, that was the first official use of dogs in combat. Dobermans were the official USMC War Dogs, and were used extensively throughout the Pacific campaign, fighting alongside their humans in the steaming jungles and the shell-torn beaches. During the campaign, it was common for Japanese sappers to sneak in, during the cover of night, to kill many Marines who were sleeping on the beaches. After the "Devil Dogs" were brought in, not a single Marine unit came under attack from the Japanese. Not only did they serve as sentries, but they also helped to find and neutralize snipers, booby traps, ambushes, and lead the attack on bunkers, pill boxes, spider holes, and dugouts, as well as scouted forward positions and occupied fighting holes with their owners at night.

Needless to say, the Doberman Pinscher proved their worth in WWII.

We adopted our first Dobie in 2005. Her name was originally Princess, but we changed it to Roxie; Princess just didn't seem to fit her. Yes, she was regal, and gorgeous, but certainly no "Princess." Names like that are reserved for Chihuahuas and Mini-Pins, not my 85 pound muscle with teeth!

She quickly worked her way into our hearts. Her calm demeanor, her steady nerves, her willingness to put herself on the line for us, as well as her loyal heart and loving manners all endeared her to us. On one occasion during a family walk, we were set upon by a stray mutt. The poor dog really didn't know what it was in for; in fact, he probably just wanted to check us out, give us all a friendly sniff, and head on his way. Roxie saw him coming, though, and threw a cross-body block that literally floored the mutt. She was on perfect alert; her muscles straining, her cropped ears at attention, an "I'm going to eat you" snarl on her face, and her nub of a tail pointing straight back; I'm telling you, she was intimidating, to me! After the mutt evacuated himself from the area, Roxie turned to look at us, a goofy look on her face, her nub wagging, as if to say "I took care of him for you, gang! I love you guys!" We slathered her with praise, hugs, and kisses.

I think the best part about Roxie is that she can go from 110% protection mode to 110% "love you" mode in an instant. Stranger at the door? She's on alert. Stranger ended up being a friend over with their infant son? She's all love, giving little Roxie kisses to the baby and allowing him to climb all over her. My 6 year old loves Roxie: he won't go out back to play unless she's with him. And when she's outside with him, she's on guard duty; she watches his every move, follows him around, and generally baby-sits. I've never, ever had to worry about my kids around Roxie.

All this said, earlier this year we decided that, since we loved Roxie so much, we should look into adopting another Doberman. To our delight, the same adoption agency that we got Roxie through had another Dobie pup up for adoption; he was a goofy Gus, with unclipped ears and long, lanky legs. The night we met him, we fell in love all over again; he was such a gangly little guy, all legs and ears; he found a moth, and was absolutely fascinated by the little insect, chasing it around, snapping at it, watching it flutter about... we were smitten. We took him home that night and introduced him to Roxie, who accepted him into "her" home with an open Dobie heart.

It didn't take long to realize that our new puppy, whom we dubbed "Bentley" was absolutely nothing like our other Dobie.

Where Roxie is steadfast, loyal, intelligent, fearless, and loving, Bentley is iffy at best, dumb as a rock, scared of everything, and loving only when he feels like it.

He's slowly adapting to the rest of the family, but I'm afraid that there's something dreadfully wrong with the poor guy. Oh, he's adorable; but he's also a complete dodo. The doorbell rings, and Roxie goes to work, alerting us that somebody is at the door and standing ready to devour them if they prove to be unfriendly. Bentley? He runs in circles chasing his nub of a tail. One of the kids makes a funny noise, and Roxie simply looks up to see what's going on, then resumes her nap. Bentley? He runs away. It's a sad day when a 6 year old armed with a squirt-bottle could break into my house and chase away my Doberman! He also has developed an inexplicable habit of sitting on the couch. I don't know how he managed to figure it out, or why it would even be comfortable to him, but he's done it; bottom on the couch, front paws on the floor. Ah!

The most worrisome of all his habits, though, is his incurable love for paper goods; specifically, napkins and tissues. Oh, he loves napkins and tissues, especially used napkins and tissues. To him a used tissue is like haute cuisine, which he instantly devours. If one were to observe Bentley on any given day, one would instantly recognize the crazed glint in his eye as he prowls the house looking for a stray tissue that is within his reach. Once it is discovered, the poor tissue stands no chance at all; it's toast! Meal times are the worst; we've trained him to not beg at the table, but more than once he's been observed slinking from chair to chair, snitching napkins from laps and quietly sucking them down like so much linguine. My favorite is when my wife tucks a spare tissue into her pocket, leaving a little ear of it hanging out for easy access. Bentley will sneak up alongside her and, with the precision and care that one would normally see with an eye surgeon or a rocket scientist, he teases the tissue from her pocket, then happily and proudly prances away to eat his treat in the privacy of his crate.

Ah, I suppose that he's still young; I know I did some odd things when I was young. I can only hope that Bentley outgrows his tissue-habit and starts fitting the Doberman description!

(Photos, top to bottom: Guam War Dog Memorial; Jedi Master Roxie in repose; Roxie frolicking in one of our summer monsoon puddles; Bentley sitting on the couch; Bentley scared of... the camera?)