How do I start this post? I don’t even know. I’m at a loss for words, which I’m usually not. On Monday October 27th the world lost a great dog. I don’t really know what to say, so I will tell you some stories about Uncle Steve instead.
For those of you who are into bulldogges, Steve carried the lines of Rockabullz and Bullforce, two big names 15 years ago in Olde English Bulldogges. Steves grandmother was Bullforce Crunch and his grandfather was Rockabullz Budha. Jose from Rockabullz sent us an amazing puppy, Rockabullz Pepper, a little firecracker of a dog, super athletic, great breather, and very healthy. Pepper was Steve’s mom. We bred Steve, so Steve has been with us since day one. There were some complications with the litter and only four pups survived, but they were four wonderful puppies, Steve, Will, Lily and Madison. Steve and Lily stayed and Will and Madison we placed with wonderful, loving people. I am especially thankful and grateful for Will’s family.
We almost lost Steve to an infection when he was very young. After multiple vet visits, tests and chiropractic, a last ditch effort to place him on left over antibiotics saved his life. So Steve missed a lot of the critical social experiences that were positive as a puppy due to this. But you’d never know that. This is why I like to speak about genetics. Genetics will trump experiences and training every time. This litters genetic temperaments were impeccable. I attribute this to both parents and the lines, however, Pepper had a fantastic temperament that she nurtured in her puppies. I have used all but Madison to help with dogs who are reactive. They are solidly neutral with little to no training.
Steve was my go to guy to help reactive dogs and participate as a demo dog in classes, albeit a slow motion one. He was always social, patient, and had good dog sense. His health wasn’t always the greatest, but his temperament was. Anyone who met Steve loved him. He was quietly dominant, had amazing presence, and was like a trusty boat anchor. Always there. Always steady. When classes ended and I would say “you are free to go” he would take this as his time to go and visit around. He filled a rather large hole after the loss of my Jack Russell years prior for the working roll.
He was not an easy puppy. He ate my couch, and was absolutely terrible to house break, which I attribute to the early infection, and he was a typical bulldog – I’ll do it on my terms when I please or else I will completely ignore you. He was easy to obedience train, a dog willing to please … on his terms. He was cunning too. Bulldogges aren’t typically labeled that way, but they are silently smart. I remember when they installed the fabric barrier on the union gas plant. The fence was always open to see through and they decided to cover it with fabric. The first time Steve saw it he paused. I guess it didn’t look right to him. Then he ran full tilt head first into the fence from about 20 feet away and bounced off of it. My guess was to test it since it looked different. Once that was done, he was satisfied and moved on. Another time he accidentally hit the carbon monoxide detector alarm button. It didn’t startle him. He turned to walk away. Stopped, came back and purposefully pushed it again. To test it I supposed. I witnessed both of these things first hand. He knew more than he let on.
He was a pain in my ass at times, he was a barker (inherited that from his mother), a massive shedder and a drooler (my walls are covered). If he hit the grass, whether working or on a walk, he would just roll. Like he would roll down the street instead of walking. Rolling was one of his joys in life. When he was younger he used to gather mouthfuls of dandelions in the field, then choke on them and hack them up for fun. He had what we called “puppy eye”, where he would look at you sideways, then would proceed to have zoomies all over the house, throwing his 65 pound self off my walls. I’m surprised there was no drywall damage.
He peed, purposefully, on EVERY SINGLE new soft bed that I got him. Every. Single. One. Then happily slept on them afterwards. I enjoyed having others try and play tug with him … he was extremely powerful and it was fun to watch people squirm. He loved playing with his brother Will … his brother at some point stopped loving to play with him. Got him good on the cheek once but Steve didn’t care. He liked it rough. He bit Frankie right on the nuts when I had the litter at my place for some extra dog socialization. Frankie wasn’t happy that his balls were violated in that manner. I tried him at a Rally obedience trial once. We made it through about three signs before he grabbed the back of my leg and went to town humping the crap out of me in the ring. I excused myself and decided competition wasn’t for him. He used to pull the sled in the snow for my son. Had diarrhea one day, un-benouced to me, and proceed to spray shit all over the snow and sled behind him. My son jumped off just in time to avoid most of the spray. He was good at pooping.
When we used to train at the gym, Andrea and I were cleaning up, putting things away, and her son and his friend were with Steve. We heard laughing, and came out to see that Steve had one of the boys pinned on the ground and was joyfully humping him while they were both killing themselves laughing. I was not happy. Steve lost his balls not too long after that.
Steve was excellent with puppies. He loved them. Loved playing with them and being with them. It brought him a lot of joy. He loved eating and he loved sleeping. He enjoyed humping when he was younger. He has a couple trick dog titles, though not the most athletic dog, he enjoyed learning them. He enjoyed guests. He enjoyed kids and ladies the most. He wasn’t always trustful of men. He’d enjoy them … but didn’t trust them.
He was a good boy who will be greatly and sadly missed. He was a fantastic worker who is impossible to replace. There are no replacements for dogs. There is just another hole. And maybe another dog to fill that hole just a little, but no hole every gets fully filled. My dogs aren’t my kids, I have a real child for that. My dogs are my friends, my family and my partners, each one unique in their personalities and abilities. A part of my heart is taken each time I loose one. Loosing them is inevitable, but life without dogs doesn’t make sense. Rest easy my big, dense, boat anchor buddy ❤.
If you see me, we won’t talk about it. But please enjoy some photos and videos of Uncle Steve below. He’d want you to.
https://vimeo.com/361792563?share=copy&fl=sv&fe=ci
Smart Dogs Canine Training Milton 