It was all a long time ago
And it's been a long time.
What smelled, what teased,
Long buried...

F. SOLOGUB

If we talk about my pedigree, then I am from the last litter of an old husky bitch named Styopa, the “girlfriend” of the guard of the Smolensk Orthodox cemetery, the famous Vasileostrovsky freak Gosha - Legs with a Wheel. I was born so awkwardly, awkwardly and turned out to be of such enormous size that Stepa’s creature could not stand the birth and ceased to exist.

All this happened on the cemetery bank of the Smolenka River under an old aspen tree. My mother, a bitch, had sex with anyone on the islands, so I can’t say who my father was.

Gosha, in his heart over Styopa’s death, decided to drown me, still blind, in Smolenka. I was saved from the perches thanks to the Goloday boy Kolya - Pull up your pants. He stole the dog degenerate from under the hands of Gosha and took him to his island beyond Smolenka.

There, the little girl soon dubbed me Barmaley for my ugliness and hairiness. Named after some hero of their fairy tales. As I grew older, I justified this fabulous nickname more and more. When they saw me, the inhabitants of Goloday and Vasileostrov always remembered Karl Gosha, but I think that I’m still not as ugly as him. Some very thin girl mocked me, calling me Gosha’s son, but over time she stopped - I could even bite off my ear.

The first memory of my life is connected with moving from one barn to another. My savior Kolya—Put Up Your Pants—was taken by some pharaohs to some of their colonies to correct him. Colin the friend Shibzdik - Short from Sazonyevskaya Street arranged for me to live in his barn with the pig boar Crookshanks - the most disgusting type, I tell you. If there had not been a wall of good boards and logs piled against it on my side between me and the long-nosed boar, he would have eaten me right away. His pig-eye constantly stuck out in the cracks of the boards, watching all my actions. But his interest in me was purely gastronomic.

Life in front of Crookshanks was my first school of life. There I learned not to be afraid of anyone, there I felt that I had teeth and claws. I learned to growl, dig the ground with my paws and muzzle. I learned to always be on the alert, ready for battle, for a fight.

I received the same food as he did, sometimes Shibzdik or one of his friends brought me a crust of bread or a bone. But, despite everything, I grew and by five months I had turned into a huge, ferocious-looking dog with a huge mouth and dark brown fur sticking out in all directions. The boy began to lead me on a rope through the Zheleznovodsk yards and scare the girls with me. So I became the local scarecrow, the island Barmaley.

By spring, I was very tired of the pig's snout spying on me, and I decided to leave the barn to free myself. And it became better for Shibzdik - the boar, due to the inability to feast on me, quickly lost weight.

After the swine stench, the smell of spring entered my memory as the smell of freedom. Although the first day of freedom was not the best in my dog’s life. In the morning I was doused with water from my gut by street cleaners on Uralskaya Street and called a freak, in the afternoon I almost fell under the wheels of a horse-drawn wagon loaded with bread, which I was barking at, and in the evening, a kid from Sazonyevskaya Street threw firebrands at me from a fire on the occasion of some kind of spring event. holiday. Offended by this disgrace, I even barked at the world that gave birth to me. Well, what can you do, you have to get used to everything, to the realities of a dog’s existence, especially to me, Freak-Barmaley.

Gradually I began to get used to it. I ran around and sniffed all the interesting places on the island. I met all my canine brothers. I can’t say that I was immediately accepted into the island community of four-legged people; at that time I was too clumsy, but I was in no hurry. I chose and marked my territory, which, by the way, was not occupied by anyone, probably because this was a German cemetery, not a Russian one. This is how I got on my feet. By autumn, I had settled down on the island, learned the laws of dogs, learned the local dog hairdresser, and even acquired some cunning, that is, experience in communicating with fellow dogs.

The Goloday pack was ruled by a strong, beautiful dog named Gulyai, five years older than me. He had one weakness - once a week he drank beer at the locker on the corner of the 17th line and Maly Prospekt with handouts from local boogers and began to howl, that is, to sing like a dog. They said about him that he learned to sing in his male youth, when he served under the guards in the Chapel beyond the Bolshaya Neva, and after being kicked out of work, he came to Goloday and began to drink. He is not ours, not local, but everyone obeyed him, but I did not. In November, Gulyai wanted to test my teeth, but at the last moment he moved away, frightened by my calmness and height - I was already taller than him. Nothing, we’ll wait, we need to survive the winter, feed ourselves. Anyway, in the spring the flock will be mine. I’m from Golodaya, and that’s worth something.

I learned how to get food in the wild pretty quickly. In spring, summer, and fall, this activity was not difficult - food was everywhere, you just had to be able to take it. In spring and autumn, that is, during spring and autumn season, fish became the main food on the islands.

From the end of April, beginning of May, our places smelled of smelt. It was caught right in the city or in the bay. Early in the morning, they loaded them into huge baskets, sometimes full of holes, or poured them directly in bulk into wagon carts edged with boards and transported them to St. Andrew's Market. On the paving stones that covered all the lines of Vasino Island, the carts shook thoroughly and threw several fish onto the pavement in one trip. You just had to accompany the cart from behind and eat what fell almost into your mouth.

The best time for us is summer. Especially the Spiritual Day, when many two-legged people came to our cemeteries (and we have three of them) with string bags of food and drink and reveled on the graves of their churas. After the holiday, we fattened ourselves with the remnants of the funeral grub for a whole week, fattening up our faces.

In winter it became more difficult to get food, we had to dodge and think. At that time, food was transported on the islands by wagons drawn by draft horses. All of them were unloaded early in the morning in the courtyards of the shops by loaders who had not yet fully recovered from the hangover. With some dexterity, sneaking under the cart, it was not difficult to steal a load of meat or fish from the hands of the sleepy loaders, and then run - “the paws feed the dog.”

In addition, on the islands there were several canteens, “feeding stations” in our language, where dog-loving rinsers carried buckets of scraps into the yard. Just be affectionate - and you'll be full. These scraps contained pieces of cutlets. At that time, not all domestic dogs knew what a cutlet was. This, I tell you, is a song.

The most clever way of getting food, and not just food, but meat bones, was a dog concert that we organized at St. Andrew's Market. In the market courtyard at the end of the trading day, the flock sat in a circle in the snow. In the middle, the main singer, Gulyai, sat on his hind legs, bending his front legs and raising his muzzle to the sky. At my signal - hitting the snow with his tail - he began to sing, that is, howl. All the dogs in the circle howled at him. For this “singing,” the market butchers, with the approval of the crowd of bipeds, brought us the remaining bones from the day of trading, and we, with gratitude in our eyes and bones in our teeth, disappeared from the market.

After the second winter of my life, in the spring, I siphoned off the license from this canine “singer” godfather and became the head of the Goloday pack of four-legged animals. From a fair fight with me to his nickname “Gulyai” he acquired another word - “Ear” and began to be called Gulyai Ukh. His right ear, which I tore, I repeat, in a fair fight, was left dangling for the rest of his life. But everyone agreed with me that “Walk the Ear” sounds more harmonious and more solid than just “Walk”. And he's a normal dog. If he doesn’t get drunk, he’ll be one of my kents.

Over the summer I put all the houseyards in order. Everyone in the pack knew their place, especially the bitches, they had to clear their minds. In the fall, I, Barmaley, a dog freak, ruled a pack of organized, beautiful, muscular dogs, capable of defeating barking enemies from the Petrograd side.

The main events of our dog's life were battles. Together with the boy Golodaya, every spring and autumn on holidays on Kamskaya Street we fought with the Vasileostrovsky boy and the dog. But these fights were rehearsals for the main battles between the combined forces of Goloday and Vasino Island with the armada of dog boys from the Petrograd side. Traditionally, the site of battles remained the old wooden Tuchkov Bridge across the Malaya Neva, connecting the Petrograd Islands with Vasilievsky.

I set a task for my flock: at maximum speed, without barking, break through the enemy’s chain, rush forward to Bolshoy Prospekt, and when they, lost, run after them, turn sharply back - rush through them again, grabbing and tearing someone off with your teeth as you go. will have to. And so iron it back and forth several times. The main thing is not to stop and not bark, but to tear and throw so that they don’t come to their senses. My tactics worked perfectly. We wound up these Petrograd mandalays and smashed them to smithereens in half an hour and for the first time we truly won.

The best fighters of our islands, besides me, were: Zhutik, Gulyai Ukho, Tail, Shelupon, Khudolay, Chuvyrka - they were marked with a marrow bone from the pack's common pool. This time we managed without losses, but this was not always the case. In the spring, on the May holiday, my friend and accomplice Tail, with whom I chewed off more than one bone, was seriously wounded by a boy’s iron iron. The flock dragged him to our island to the floating fish market, which is on the Admiral Makarov embankment opposite Tuchkov Lane. He died there on our paws. I lost my main advisor. We howled for him all night.

Of the dogs awarded, Zhutik was considered one of the outstanding canine types of our islands. It was not by chance that he earned his nickname - he deftly crushed cats. That in itself is amazing. The bitches say that he feasted on them. I haven't seen it myself and can't confirm it. And I absolutely confirm the three outstanding abilities that distinguished him from the rest of his brothers.

The first feature was a huge mouth, incredible for its small size, decorated with a fantastic saw of teeth. The second distinguishing feature is the lightning-fast reaction of all its terrible mechanisms, exceeding that of a cat. The third is creepy, chilling, hypnotizing guard eyes. After each battle on Tuchkov Bridge, our hero emerged from the battle with trophies - the tail or ear of an enemy dog. Almost all the island brothers were six and curry favor with the barking nightingale-robber - everyone except me - Barmaley.

When he appeared on the street or in the yard, all the cats instantly disappeared into the cracks of the houses or, out of fear, climbed to such a height of a fence or tree that they could not get down from it for a long time.

But the one who did not react at all to our robber was the Goloday Zhigan cat named “Red in a Cap.” From some distance, a dark brown spot on his red head seemed like a cap. Moreover, the spot-cap, shifted to one side from left to right, gave him a Spanish look. All the dogs of Goloday and Vasilievsky probably treated him with respect for this, not to mention the various cats and cats there, for whom he was known as their godfather.

We need to tell you about the peculiarities of cat life in our Goloday region. Every autumn, all residential yards on the island were distributed according to cats, that is, several cat people fought for each yard, and the winner became the owner of one or another yard, a house on Golodai. This means that all the mouse and rat living creatures of this place belonged to the winner for a whole year until the next showdown. In addition, the local people were obliged to feed the hero.

So, let's return to Red in the cap - he was the boss of the entire island cat population, just as I was of the dog population, and all the yard and street cats, not to mention the domestic ones, when they met his narrowed eye, obsequiously stretched into a horizontal line.

Although I didn’t exchange winks with him, I didn’t attack him like a dog’s boss attacks a cat’s boss. Every island nation must have its own leader.

Of the bitches, the most lively and pretty twirler was Tyavka-Burka. From this fidgety smile I had two gifted male dogs who lived in the courtyards of the Academy of Arts. They were even taken to some institute to push human science.

We were all street servants. In our blood there is a mixture of numerous breeds of barking brethren, and we were proud of it. In that post-war period, we were the majority on the islands. Aristocrats, that is, purebred dogs, lived among us no more than claws on one paw. I’ll tell you about one of the most interesting representatives of the purebred minority, whose fighting was the favorite entertainment of the dog gang. The brethren dubbed this pug from the English Isles Pucker-face. His real master's nickname is Churchill, named after some ally in their human war. This guy made us laugh like hell. When he chewed something, the wrinkle of his forehead took such an active part in this action that from the outside it seemed that he was eating with his forehead wrinkle. The feeding took place on the second floor balcony of a small outbuilding in the courtyard of a house on the third line of Vasilyevsky Island. We watched this movie from the roof of a wooden barn, which is opposite. We had a lot of fun.

The English toy was owned by two guys, one old, nicknamed “professor”, the other younger - “assistant” - ugh, this word can make you sneeze. The guys, serving a piece of meat on a plate, said every time: “It’s the freshest, straight from the market.” And he, an idiot, turned away and became capricious. Yes, I would swallow this piece with him instantly, in one breath. And in general, the whole family, I tell you, is very strange. The owners, and Morschelobik himself, stank, pardon the expression, of the scents of the EXACT perfume shop that was located on Sredny Prospekt. Even the guys' shoes smelled of this store.

In cold weather, they put some kind of quilted garbage on him with mother-of-pearl buttons so that the English fraer would not catch a cold. In this attire, Pucker-face turned into a pie with a sausage inside - we were all drooling.

And you can imagine that this guy with the SAME smell still allowed himself to flirt with us and even with me - Barmaley.

One day Pucker-face found himself alone on the street without his guides - did he run off the leash or something else?! We got the opportunity to sniff, pick and chew his tender carcass to our heart's content and give him, the clean one, all the fleas from our glorious islands.

The noisy dog ​​pile around Pucker-face attracted the attention of the two-legged janitors. They drove us away from sweet Churchill with sticks and took the chewed “sausage” to the whining guys. Thus ended his short freedom.

About myself, I want to tell you and my heirs (yes, they haven’t appeared in my cemetery for a long time) - I never wore a noose-collar on my own neck and would not allow it to be put on me. I would never trade my canine freedom, even if sometimes hungry, for well-fed bondage. I don’t want to walk around all my life tied to its owner as a toy. And I want to smell like myself, and not like all these Churchills, Bari, Jacks and others - TEZHE tenderness.

For people these fraers are a breed, for us they are ordinary stinkers.

What do they know? The rooms and corridors of their owners or the block where their owners’ house stands - nothing more.

What did they smell in their lives? The smell of floors, carpets, rugs and beds, the smell of kerosene or gas in the kitchen, overpowering the smell of food.

What do they know about our dog world? They don’t know anything - neither dog laws, nor our gang friendship, nor our free love, where we must defeat our opponent in a fair fight.

They don’t understand the taste of the thigh bone that the one-legged butcher Antokha from Andreevsky throws to us twice a week. They don’t have strong teeth, strong paws, keen eyes and instant reactions - they don’t need that. They don't get food like we do, they get it. They also suffer from the diseases of their owners: they sneeze, wheeze, and sniffle. They can’t run like we do, like a dog, that is, for real, their hearts are fat from overeating, their withers are inflated, their bellies are swollen. They are afraid of cats, afraid of trucks, trams, they are afraid even of opening umbrellas.

In their eyes there is fear and complacency at the same time. The complacency of the chosen, on the one hand, on the other, fear of the owner, hunger, the street, and freedom. They are submissive, submission is their main state. In our yard jargon, they are not even “sixes”, they are “goats”.

And if you seriously look at their two-legged owners, then they are also ugly and unnatural. We sometimes get together and discuss this issue. Why did people once stand on two legs, huh? All the animals are on four, and these are on two, why? Maybe they rose from all fours to two legs out of pride? They wanted to fly up like birds, but they couldn’t. They say, however, that they have some kind of flying booths. But I won't believe it until I smell it. Having taken off from the earth, people have lost a lot. The main thing is that they almost lost one of the most important senses - smell. They do not feel or understand the magic of the various smells that surround us. They don't read them and navigate them like we do. How they can live without this feeling is incomprehensible to us dogs.

We stray dogs are not against people - we are ready to be friends with people, but I can’t call every person my friend. We have a lot in common, and we can greatly help bipeds - at least with smell and hearing. But we demand equality. Dog and man are equal. That's all my deeply dog-like thought.

Of the human friends, the closest to my canine heart were the neighbors on the property - the cemetery: the old thief Stepan Vasilyevich and his cohabitant Marukha Anyuta. The back wall of their havira overlooked the outskirts of the German cemetery, where I lived in an ancient, strong crypt. On the gravestone in front of my “kennel” the old man smoked his “Belomorina” every evening. I, lying next to him, happily inhaled the smoke from his cigarette. After smoking it, he began to cough. He hardly spoke, sometimes he only scratched me behind the ear, but I loved him, I loved him with dog devotion without servility - from the bottom of my heart. At the end of the evening, Anyuta came out with a bowl of soup for me and a sheepskin padded jacket for Vasilich and took him to tea to warm up. Soon the light in the kitchen window went out, and I became a volunteer guardian of their havira and the entire Lutheran cemetery.

This was the last summer of my dog ​​paradise. In the autumn the old man became completely ill and took to his bed. At the beginning of December, Anyuta allowed me to see him. He tried to scratch me behind the ear, I licked his hand - it was wet and weak.

Yesterday, December 19, my two-legged kent, the Goloday urkagan Stepan Vasilyevich, passed away.

They were buried on Smolensky. With me is the entire four-legged brotherhood of the island. There were not many two-legged people; they all came from the city. They smelled like Belomor - obviously thieves*.

Evening. Night. The burying people celebrate the wake of the orphaned Anyuta. I'm in my crypt-kennel. I'm on guard. Cold. I want to howl.

What's happened?

From the Ural Bridge I hear the sounds of a motor.

Looks like a car...

At such times, only “funnels” come to visit us on Golodai.

Tyavka-Burka should bark, she is on guard under the bridge.

In! Her bark! Atas!

We need to warn Anyuta...

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!…………………..

I, Gulyai Ukho, the closest friend and ally of the great Barmaley, inform everyone that he died from a cop’s bullet early in the morning of December 22, 1953 on the day of the winter solstice in the courtyard of house No. 32 on Zheleznovodskaya Street, fighting off the thieves’ maruha Anyuta the Immaculate. The shooting sergeant became toeless from the bites of the Goloday dog ​​leader... Eternal memory to him.

P.S. Barmaley was interred on Smolensk under an aspen tree, where the thief was. As soon as the boy buried it, the flock sat on its hind legs around the aspen tree and howled in chorus, as is customary for dogs. The lead singer was Gulyai Ukho. They say that since then aspen has become a ritual tree. Dogs running past always stop here and raise their right hind paw as a sign of memory.

June 2001

* “White Sea Canal” cigarettes in the 1940s and 50s were the favorite cigarettes of former prisoners in memory of the construction of the White Sea-Baltic Canal by “prisoners”.

This article will help those who passionately want to add a devoted small friend to their family. If you don't have a dog......well, in general, one day a bright thought came to your mind - how about getting a dog...

Every fifth of those who get one gets a dog for the sake of their children. And, of course, he does the right thing, because a dog is a friend, a nanny, an uncle and a younger brother, and sometimes a strict head teacher.
And it would seem that there are no problems, but 18% of dog owners admit that their dogs growl and sometimes bite growing family members. Therefore, when adults want to raise both children and dogs in the same garden, they must find answers to the questions: what breed of four-legged should they get in this case and when?

It is believed that it is better to get a dog when your child is over a year old, provided that you are going to raise both of them yourself. If you want a child to take care of the dog, wait until he is fourteen years old. There are exceptions, but one should not rely on them.
With a dog and children, the canine experience of adults is of particular importance, and if you have not had dogs before, try to at least theoretically fill in the knowledge problems. Yes, by the way, strange as it may seem, grandparents are bad helpers in raising dogs: they spoil them like grandchildren.

This time I would like to write about relationships in the family. If you take a dog into your home while having a child, learn the golden rule for yourself!

Under no circumstances should you humiliate, yell at, discipline, or punish a child in the presence of a dog.

I'll explain why. A dog is, first of all, an extremely social animal, leading a pack lifestyle. From the moment you take a dog into your home, your family becomes a pack for it. Next, a teenage dog grows out of the plush ball, which begins to assert its rights in the family, tries to take the place of the leader, it is vital for it to determine for itself its place in the hierarchy of the pack.

Here is ATTENTION!!!

Then, as a rule, the following happens: with proper upbringing, the dog unquestioningly listens to the owner and mistress, BUT does not take the child seriously.

Why does this happen? Everything turns out to be very, very simple. Remember the pack, who usually punishes, teaches and educates whom?

The elders of the younger, the stronger of the weaker, the leaders of the subordinates. By constantly raising your voice at a child, punishing him, without meaning to, you let the dog know that he is not in last place.
She obeys you and recognizes you as a leader, but in relation to the child, over time she begins to feel her leadership. The dog believes that since you shout at the child, then in principle it can do the same for any reason of dissatisfaction. Please remember this. The dog does not have human understanding, it does not know why you are swearing at the child, it only sees the fact - you are unhappy, and you are showing your superiority (for the child as a parent, and for the dog as a leader). This is a very subtle point. Don’t forget that no matter how much we love and humanize our smaller friends, they have different mechanisms for perceiving relationships in the pack. Remember this and try to live in peace and harmony)

I want everyone who reads this topic to think 10 times. This applies not only to Yorkies, but to dogs in general. I think the most important reason for reflection is the presence of a small child in the family.

I absolutely agree with the commendable zeal of the majority of parents to instill in their children from an early age a sense of responsibility, tact, patience, love, caring... but think about whether you can provide the child and the dog with that “family climate” in which no one, no one who will not pose a danger, and in which the child will take care of a new friend?
Just imagine that in addition to your own baby, you will now have a puppy, also a baby, who at first, especially if it is a 2-month-old baby, will require care and attention from you no less than your own baby. .

Remember all this when making such an important decision. accept it with the whole family. Be prepared for the fact that not only your child, but also you will take care of the pet, because it is you who take responsibility.
Consider the choice of breed, depending on the purpose for which you are buying a dog.

A real case from life. The girl, the hostess, writes York.
“Yes, you have to think twice as hard, you take on twice as much responsibility. In the summer, when we came to visit my mother, a very unpleasant story happened. I have a brother Vitya. In general, he gets along with animals and loves dogs until he loses his pulse. But one day we were alone in the apartment. (By the way, my brother is 6 years old) and I went to the kitchen, and after 3 minutes I heard the cry of a dog. I ran into the room, and there was my Yorkshire Terrier Savochka howls and crawls towards me on her stomach, but her hind legs don’t move. I thought that I would lose consciousness right there; what I experienced then cannot be described in words.
As it turned out later, Sava barked at Vitya a week ago; he doesn’t like it when Vitya makes trouble. And then Vitya decided to quietly remind him of this and went into the room and kicked him on the back. Nothing foreshadowed this horror! At that time, we had had the dog for a year. So this is just something to think about. Children are children."
And how many cases are there when a child accidentally pinches a dog in a door, steps on it, sits on it, pushes it off the sofa, window sill, hugs it, presses it... The results are sad - from broken paws and spine to deaths.

A puppy is one of the most charming creatures on earth. He is the very personification of excess energy, humor and love. But there are a lot of things that a puppy is NOT, and these negatives are worth some thought on your part BEFORE you bring your puppy home.

A puppy is not a toy that can be enjoyed while it's brand new and then sent out of sight and replaced with new entertainment. He is a living being, all of whose physical and physiological requirements must be fulfilled while he lives.

A very young puppy needs more sleep than human children. It should not be woken up, even if your child is in the mood to play with it. He must be fed often and regularly, even if his meals conflict with other family interests.

A very small puppy is very fragile. A very young child may unintentionally cause pain and distress to the puppy, especially if the puppy is one of the small or fine-boned breeds. And a broken puppy leg is much more difficult to “fix” than a broken toy truck wheel.
unfortunately, if there are small children in the family, this is not safe for the puppy, simply because, despite the fact that the children are absolutely seething with love for him, they are still too small to calculate strength
Then, the child, due to the fact that he quickly switches attention from one thing to another, can leave the baby on the table or high bed, which is fraught with broken paws at a minimum. And if, God forbid, trouble happens, your child will be very worried.

Think, even before you start choosing a breed, will you be able to look after the baby and his new friend, will you be able to explain that a dog is not a funny toy?

A puppy is not a teaching tool that guarantees instilling a sense of responsibility in a child. If a child loves his dog, he will likely enjoy grooming, walking, filling his water bowl, and performing other grooming duties. In such a relationship with a dog, a sense of responsibility can really grow. But it is dishonest for the animal to completely transfer responsibility for its normal life support into the hands of the child.

Even most teenage dog lovers are tired of the routine daily responsibilities of caring for an animal, and parents who try to forcefully establish a routine in the home will end up in conflict.
Unfortunately, the main loser in this battle will be the puppy. Lessons on responsibility are best taught through examples of other household chores, without involving pets in them. The vital responsibilities of feeding the dog, its initial training and further training should be assigned to older family members. Teens can help with less important things like grooming and walking.

Dogs and children give each other something very useful - time and attention, because adults are sometimes too busy to give enough of both. This is the main function of the dog-child relationship.

A puppy is not a cheap pleasure. Whether you paid the minimum fee for a dog from a shelter, or the fee was more like a king's ransom for a very special puppy, the money spent on purchasing a puppy is only a drop in the bucket of expenses you'll have to make. to ensure his life.

You will have to pay the veterinarian - both in case of some emergency calls, and for simple visits to him in order to get a vaccination or get a certificate. You may have to pay a special tax or purchase a pet license. And there are many more legal aspects of owning a dog that you could not even imagine - not only a personal injury claim, but also, for example, a claim to restore a fence or grass, or a requirement to replace the clothes of the neighbor's children who were torn while playing. And your carpets and furniture may develop holes and rips.

A puppy is not an impulse buy, or at least it shouldn't be. The “wrong” dog can become a source of endless trouble for all family members - and it is much easier to buy a puppy than to throw out a grown dog that is impossible to handle. Animal shelters are overflowing with dogs that have been adopted for the wrong reasons or without due consideration.

If your family has decided to buy a dog, you should take the time to learn everything about the breed you have chosen. Each breed has its own distinct personality traits, and some of these traits may not suit your lifestyle. Some breeds are genetically prone to diseases such as hip dysplasia, ear diseases, and entropion. If you are aware of these issues, you can choose your puppy more wisely.

If you take the time to do some research before purchasing, you can find out what the average prices are for puppies of your breed. Never buy a puppy from a pet store or market, no matter the price, as pet stores often sell very low quality puppies at show dog prices simply because some buyers are willing to pay. Buy your puppy only from a responsible, reputable breeder - one recommended by your local dog club.

Many puppies are purchased on impulse, and puppies purchased without real desire or planning often end up in dog shelters.

A puppy is not a gift. The only exception can be the case when the donor is absolutely sure that this is the kind of puppy they want to receive as a gift. Not only now, but also in a year, and in ten years. And even in this case, it is better if the puppy is chosen by its future owner than by someone else. A puppy that one person will really like may not be liked by another. It's a kind of chemistry, like love at first sight.

A puppy is not a self-cleaning creature. You will find puddles on the carpet, and sometimes it will also be torn. The dog's hair will be on clothes and furniture (not in the case of Yorkies!!!). He may have worms. If this picture is unbearable for the family member who is responsible for the order in the house, then perhaps the pleasure of owning a puppy will still not be able to outweigh the tension in the relationship that will arise as a result.

Long-haired breeds need careful coat care - not only while the puppy is small and this activity is new to you, but also week after week for many years. Heavy silky coat of breeds such as cocker, Yorkshire Terrier And Lhasa Apso, becomes tangled extremely quickly, especially on areas that often rub - legs and sides. If a dog's fur is not brushed frequently and thoroughly, it becomes unsightly and unpleasant. The tangles under which moisture accumulates become an excellent hiding place for fleas and skin diseases.

A puppy is not an adult dog. He has neither the physical nor the mental ability to do what an adult dog can do. He cannot stand for a long time without walking, and always goes to the toilet. He cannot tolerate cruel training methods and cannot distinguish edible from inedible. He cannot differentiate between food and objects that would cut him or cause him pain if he swallowed them. He will try to be patient with most of the real dog lovers in the house, and at the same time he can drive someone crazy. If the puppy is very young, he may cry the first one or two nights in his new home. He needs tolerance and understanding from all family members.

A puppy doesn't stay a puppy for long. Before you succumb to the charm of a gangly St. Bernard puppy, or a sad-happy beagle, or the bottomless eyes of a cocker, make sure that you want the puppy not only for what he is now, but also for the lanky, unattractive young dog he will soon begin to develop into , and an adult dog who may not live up to your expectations of what she will be like.

If you've faced all the negative aspects of puppy ownership and still want one, there's a good chance that your new dog will be one of the lucky ones who finds a wonderful forever home. And you will enjoy the planned feelings of a dog owner - a reward that far outweighs any disadvantages.
I am sure that if you decide to buy a dog, you will take it with full responsibility) and you will definitely succeed!

(information collected by me and processed from sections of the forum about Yorkshire terriers “Lyubava” http://www.liubava.ru/forum)

My uncle, Akim Ilyich Kolybin, worked as a guard at a potato warehouse at the Tomilino station near Moscow. In his position as a potato farmer, he kept many dogs.

However, they themselves pestered him somewhere in the market or at the “Juice and Water” kiosk. Akim Ilyich smelled like a businessman of shag, potato peels and chrome boots. And the tail of a smoked bream often stuck out of his jacket pocket.

Sometimes there would be five or six dogs in the warehouse, and every day Akim Ilyich would cook them a pot of potatoes. In the summer, this whole pack wandered near the warehouse, scaring passers-by, and in the winter, the dogs liked to lie on the warm, moldy potatoes.

At times Akim Ilyich was attacked by the desire to get rich. He would then take one of his guards on a string and lead him to sell it to the market. But there was no case where he gained even a ruble. He returned to the warehouse with more offspring. In addition to his shaggy goods, he also brought some Kubik, who had nowhere to hide.

In the spring and summer I lived not far from Tomilino on a dacha garden plot. This plot was small and empty, and there was no garden or dacha on it - there were two fir trees, under which stood a barn and a samovar on a stump.

And all around, behind the blank fences, real country life was in full swing: gardens were blooming, summer kitchens were smoking, hammocks were creaking.

Akim Ilyich often came to visit me and always brought potatoes, which by spring grew white mustaches.

Apples, not potatoes! - he praised his gift. - Antonovka!

We boiled potatoes, made a samovar and sat for a long time on logs, watching how a new gray and curly tree grew between the fir trees - samovar smoke.

“You need to get a dog,” said Akim Ilyich. It’s boring to live alone, but the dog, Yura, is man’s friend.

Do you want me to bring you Tuzik? This is a dog! Teeth - wow! Head - in!

What a name - Tuzik. Somewhat sluggish. It should have been called stronger. “Tuzik is a good name,” argued Akim Ilyich. - It’s the same as Peter or Ivan. Otherwise they will name the dog Dzhana or Zherya. What kind of Zherya is I don’t understand.

I met Tuzik in July.

The nights were warm, and I learned to sleep on the grass, in a sack. Not in a sleeping bag, but in a regular potato bag. It was sewn from durable spongy canvas for probably the best Lorch potato. For some reason, “Pichugin” was written on the bag. Of course, I washed the bag before sleeping in it, but I couldn’t get the inscription off.

And so I once slept under the fir trees in a “Pichugin” bag.

The morning had already come, the sun rose over the gardens and dachas, but I did not wake up, and I had an absurd dream. It's like some barber is lathering my cheeks to shave. The hairdresser did his job too stubbornly, so I opened my eyes.

I saw a scary “hairdresser”.

Above me hung a black and shaggy dog's face with yellow eyes and an open mouth in which sugar fangs were visible. Sticking out his tongue, this dog licked my face.

I screamed, jumped to my feet, but immediately fell, getting tangled in the bag, and the “hairdresser” jumped on me and affectionately hit me in the chest with his cast-iron paws.

This is a gift for you! - Akim Ilyich shouted from somewhere to the side. - Call Tuzik!

I have never spat so much as I did that morning, and I have never washed myself so furiously. And while I was washing my face, a gift - Tuzik jumped on me and eventually knocked the soap out of my hands. He was so happy to meet, as if we had known each other before. “Look,” said Akim Ilyich and mysteriously, like a magician, took a raw potato out of his pocket.

He tossed the potato, and Tuzik deftly caught it in mid-flight and gobbled it right up in the skin. Starchy potato juice ran down his cavalry mustache.

Tuzik was big and black. Mustache, eyebrows, beard. In these thickets, two yellow, unquenchable eyes burned and an eternally gaping, wet, fanged mouth gaped.

Terrifying people was his main occupation.

After eating potatoes, Tuzik lay down at the gate, lying in wait for random passers-by. Noticing a passerby from afar, he lurked in the dandelions and at the right moment jumped out with a monstrous Roar. When a member of the dacha cooperative fell into tetanus,

Tuzik joyfully fell to the ground and laughed until he cried, rolling on his back.

To warn passers-by, I decided to pin a sign on the fence: “Beware of an angry dog.” But I thought that this was an understatement, and wrote this:

CAREFULLY!

POTATO DOG!

These strange, mysterious words put me in a frightened mood. Potato dog - what a horror!

A rumor soon spread in the holiday village that a potato dog was a dangerous thing. - Uncle! - the kids shouted from a distance when I was walking with Tuzik. - Why is it potato?

In response, I took a potato out of my pocket and threw it to Tuzik. He deftly, like a juggler, caught it in flight and instantly chewed it up. Starch juice flowed down his cavalry mustache.

Less than a week had passed before our adventures began.

One evening we were walking along the country highway. Just in case, I kept Tuzik on a leash.

The highway was deserted, only one figure was moving towards. It was an old grandmother in a scarf painted with cucumbers, with a shopping bag in her hand.

When she caught up with us, Tuzik suddenly clicked his teeth and grabbed the shopping bag. I frightenedly pulled the leash - Tuzik jumped back, and we were moving on, when suddenly a quiet cry was heard behind us:

Sausage!

I glanced at Tuzik. A huge loaf of sausage was sticking out of his mouth. Not a wheel, but a loaf of thick boiled sausage, similar to an airship.

I grabbed the sausage, hit Tuzik on the head with it, and then from afar I bowed to the old woman and put the sausage loaf on the highway, covering it with a handkerchief.

...By nature, Tuzik was a reveler and a flea dealer. He didn’t like to sit at home and spent his days running around wherever he had to. After running around, he always brought something home: a child's shoe, sleeves from a padded jacket, a rag woman for a teapot. He laid all this at my feet, wanting to please me. Honestly, I didn’t want to upset him and always said:

Well done! Oh thrifty owner!

But one day Tuzik brought home a chicken. It was a white chicken, completely dead.

I rushed around the area in horror and didn’t know what to do with the chicken. Every second, freezing, I looked at the gate: the angry owner would come in.

Time passed, but the owner of the chicken was not there. But Akim Ilyich appeared. Smiling heartily, he walked from the gate with a sack of potatoes over his shoulders.

This is how I remember him all my life: smiling, with a sack of potatoes over his shoulders.

Akim Ilyich threw off the bag and picked up the chicken.

“Fat,” he said and immediately slammed the chicken into Tuzik’s ears.

The blow was weak, but Tuzik the deceiver whined and groaned, fell on the grass, and cried fake dog tears.

Will you or not?!

Tuzik pitifully raised his paws up and made exactly the same sad face that a clown in the circus makes when he is deliberately slapped on the nose. But under the shaggy eyebrows shone a cheerful and impudent eye, ready to wink every second.

Do you understand or not?! - Akim Ilyich said angrily, poking the chicken in his nose.

Tuzik turned away from the chicken, and then ran back two steps and buried his head in sawdust, piled up under the workbench.

What should I do with her? - I asked.

Akim Ilyich hung the chicken under the roof of the barn and said:

Let's wait until the owner comes.

Tuzik soon realized that the storm had passed. Snorting sawdust, he rushed to kiss Akim Ilyich, and then rushed like a whirlwind around the site and several times fell to the ground with delight and rolled on his back.

Akim Ilyich placed a board on the workbench and began to plan it with a jointer. He worked easily and beautifully - the jointer slid along the board like a long ship with a crooked funnel.

The sun was hot, and the chicken under the roof was suffocating. Akim Ilyich looked anxiously at the sun, which was setting towards dinner, and said meaningfully:

The chicken is going out!

The brute Tuzik lay down under the workbench, lazily hanging out his tongue.

Juicy shavings fell on him, hanging on his ears and beard.

The chicken is going out!

So what should we do?

“We need to pluck the chicken,” said Akim Ilyich and winked at me.

And Tuzik winked friendlyly from under the workbench.

Start a fire, brother. Here's some wood shavings for kindling

While I was busy with the fire, Akim Ilyich plucked the chicken and soon the soup was bubbling in the pot. I stirred it with a long spoon and tried to awaken my conscience, but it lay dormant in the depths of my soul.

Let’s chat like people,” said Akim Ilyich, sitting down at the pot.

It was wonderful to sit by the fire in our fenced-off area. Gardens were blooming all around, hammocks were creaking, and here we had a forest fire and free grass.

After dinner, Akim Ilyich hung a teapot over the fire and sang:

Why are you standing there, swaying?
Thin rowan...

Tuzik lay at his feet and listened thoughtfully, rustling his ears as if he was afraid to miss a word. And when Akim Ilyich got to the words “but a rowan tree cannot cross an oak tree,” a tear came to Tuzik’s eyes.

Hey, comrades! - was heard suddenly.

A man in a straw hat stood at the gate.

Hey, comrades! - he shouted. -Who's the boss here?

Tuzik, who was about to be overwhelmed, came to his senses and, cursing, rushed to the fence.

What's the matter, fellow countryman? - Akim Ilyich shouted.

The fact is that this brute,” here the citizen pointed his finger at Tuzik, “stole my chicken.”

Come in, fellow countryman,” said Akim Ilyich, pointing at Tuzik, “why shout over the fence in vain.”

“I have nothing to do with you,” the owner of the chicken said irritably, but he entered the gate, looking warily at Tuzik.

Let’s sit down and talk,” said Akim Ilyich. - How many chickens do you keep? Incorrect, ten?

- “Ten”... - the owner chuckled contemptuously, - it was twenty-two, and now it’s twenty-one. - Point! - Akim Ilyich said admiringly. - Chicken factory! Maybe we should get some chickens too? Eh?... No,” continued Akim Ilyich, after thinking. - We’d better plant a garden. What do you think, fellow countryman, is it possible to plant a garden on such a plot?

“I don’t know,” the fellow countryman answered dissatisfied, not taking his attention from the chicken for a second.

But the soils here are clayey. On such soils, even potatoes are small, like peas. “I’m completely exhausted with these potatoes,” said the owner of the chicken. - It’s so small that I can’t eat it myself. I cook chicken. And all the pasta, pasta...

He doesn't have any potatoes, does he? - said Akim Ilyich and looked at me slyly. - Well, we have a whole bag. Take it.

What do I need your potatoes for? Drive the chicken. Or a sum of money.

The potatoes are good! - Akim Ilyich shouted slyly. Apples, not potatoes. Antonovka! Yes, we have boiled one, try it.

Then Akim Ilyich took a boiled potato out of the pot and instantly tore off his uniform, saying: “Cake.”

Something to try? - the owner of the chicken doubted. - And then all the pasta, pasta...

He accepted the potato from Akim Ilyich’s hands, salted it economically and took a bite.

“The potatoes are delicious,” he said judiciously. - How do you grow it?

“We don’t grow it in any way,” Akim Ilyich laughed, because we are workers in potato warehouses. We are entitled to it as a ration. Pour as much as needed.

Let him fill the bucket, and that’s enough,” I interjected.

Akim Ilyich looked at me reproachfully.

A man has a misfortune: our dog ate his chicken. Let him sprinkle as much as he wants so that his soul does not hurt.

The next day I bought a good chain from a kerosene store and chained the potato dog to the tree.

His swan days are over.

Tuzik moaned offendedly, cried fake tears and pulled the chain so hard that pine cones fell from the tree. Only in the evening I unlocked the chain and took Tuzik out for a walk.

The month of August has arrived. There are more summer residents. On sunny evenings, summer residents in straw hats walked politely along the highway. I also got myself a hat and walked with Tuzik, putting an evening country smile on my face.

Tuzik the deceiver pretended to be a well-mannered and amiable dog during walks, looked around importantly, proudly puffed up his eyebrows like a major general.

We met summer residents with dogs - Irish setters or greyhounds, curved like a treble clef. Seeing us from a distance, they crossed to the other side of the highway, not wanting to get closer to the dangerous potato dog.

Tuzik was not interested in the highway, so I took him further into the forest and unfastened the leash.

Tuzik couldn’t remember himself from happiness. He squatted to the ground and looked at me as if he couldn’t stop looking at me, snorted, threw kisses, like a football player who scored a goal. For some time he quickly rushed around and, having completed these circles of delight, rushed somewhere with all his might, knocking down tree stumps. He instantly disappeared behind the bushes, and I deliberately ran in the other direction and hid in the ferns.

Soon Tuzik began to worry: why can’t my voice be heard? He barked invitingly and rushed through the forest, looking for me.

When he ran closer, I suddenly jumped out of the ambush with a roar and threw him to the ground.

We rolled on the grass and growled, and Tuzik chattered his teeth so terribly and rolled his eyes so wide that I burst into laughter.

Apparently, the soul of the owner of the chicken was still sick.

One morning a police sergeant appeared at our gate. He read the poster about the potato dog for a long time and finally decided to enter. Tuzik was sitting on a chain and, of course, noticed the policeman from afar. He aimed his eye at him and was about to bark menacingly, but for some reason he changed his mind. It’s a strange thing: he didn’t growl or gnaw at the chain in order to break off it and tear the newcomer to pieces. - You're letting the dogs go! - said the policeman, sternly getting down to business.

I was slightly petrified and couldn’t find anything to answer. The sergeant looked me up and down, walked around the area and noticed a bag with the inscription “Pichugin”.

Are you Pichugin?

No, I was confused.

The sergeant took out a notebook, scribbled something in it with a pencil and began to examine Tuzik. Under the police gaze, Tuzik somehow pulled himself up and stood as if at attention. His fur, which usually stuck out ugly in all directions, for some reason smoothed out, and his plumage could now be called “decent hair.”

The dog was reported, the sergeant said, for killing chickens. And you eat these chickens.

Just one chicken,” I clarified. - For which it was paid.

The sergeant chuckled and again began to examine Tuzik, as if photographing him with his gaze.

Peacefully wagging his tail, Tuzik turned to the sergeant with his right side, allowed himself to be photographed and then turned to his left.

“This is a very peaceful dog,” I noted.

Why is it potato? What kind of breed is this?

Then I took a potato out of my pocket and threw it to Tuzik. Tuzik deftly intercepted it in flight and ate it civilly, bowing delicately to the policeman.

“A strange animal,” the sergeant said suspiciously. He eats potatoes raw. Can I pet him?

Only then did I realize what a great actor Tuzik really is. While the sergeant ran his hand over his unkempt scruff, the potato dog shyly closed his eyes, as lap dogs do, and wagged his tail. I even thought that he would lick the sergeant’s hand, but Tuzik resisted. “Strange,” said the sergeant. They said that this was a very angry potato dog that was tormenting everyone, and then suddenly I was petting it.

“Tuzik senses a good person,” I couldn’t resist.

The sergeant patted his palm against his palm, shook off the dog spirit from them and extended his hand to me:

Rastrepin. Let's get to know each other.

We shook hands, and Sergeant Rastrepin headed towards the gate. Passing by Tuzik, he leaned over and patted the dog in a fatherly manner.

Well, well done, well done,” said the sergeant.

And then, when the policeman turned his back, the damned potato deceiver dog suddenly stood up on his hind legs and barked monstrously in the sergeant’s ear. The half-pale Rastrepin jumped to the side, and Tuzik fell to the ground and laughed until he cried, rolling on his back.

One more chicken,” the sergeant shouted from afar, “and that’s it!” - protocol!

But there were no more chickens, no more protocols. Summer is over. I had to return to Moscow, and Tuzik had to go to the potato warehouse.

On the last day of August, we went into the forest to say goodbye. I collected nigella, of which there were a lot that year. Tuzik walked gloomily behind him.

In order to cheer up the dog a little, I rushed at him with his lop-eared blacks, but something smeared, and fun did not work. Then I hid in ambush, but Tuzik quickly found me, came up and lay down next to me. He didn't want to play.

I still growled at him and grabbed him by the ears. A second later we were already rolling on the grass. Tuzik opened his mouth terribly, and I jammed the basket with mushrooms on his head. Tuzik threw off the basket and began to torment it so much that the nigella squealed.

In the evening Akim Ilyich arrived. We boiled new potatoes and set up the samovar. At the neighboring dachas, hurried voices were heard; there, too, they were preparing to leave: they were tying knots, picking apples.

It’s a good year,” said Akim Ilyich, “a fruitful one.” There are a lot of apples, mushrooms, potatoes.

We walked along the country highway to the station and waited a long time for the train. The platform was full of people, there were bundles and suitcases everywhere, baskets with apples and mushrooms, almost everyone had an autumn bouquet in their hand.

A freight train of sixty cars passed by. At the station, the electric locomotive roared, and Tuzik became furious. He fiercely rushed at the passing carriages, wanting to scare them into fear. The carriages indifferently rushed on.

Well, why are you upset? - Akim Ilyich told me. - There will be many more dogs in your life.

The train arrived, packed with summer residents and things.

“And there’s nowhere for an apple to fall,” they shouted at us in the vestibule, “and these are with the dog!”

Don't worry, fellow countryman! - Akim Ilyich shouted in response. It would be an apple, but we’ll arrange where to fall.

A song could be heard from the carriage; they sang in chorus and played the guitar. Prompted by the song from the carriage, Akim Ilyich also began to sing:

Why are you standing there, swaying?
Thin rowan...

We stood in the vestibule, and Tuzik, rising on his hind legs, looked out the window. Birch trees, rowan trees, and orchards filled with apples and golden balls flew past.

It was a good year, fruitful.

That year the gardens smelled of mushrooms, and the forests smelled of apples.

Yes, a family, with some stretch, can be called a flock to a first approximation, but it’s certainly not a full-fledged one. Look: the father of the family early in the morning took the young dog out for a 15-minute exercise and rushed off to work, the mother is either overwhelmed with children and housework, or is also at work. And what kind of communication does a growing puppy get with his pack if he sees his elders in fits and starts and they most often have no time for him? A natural dog pack never reaches such a deficit of interpersonal communication. The human “pack” cannot fully satisfy the dog’s needs for communication. In addition, after all, we are different, we speak different languages ​​and about our own things - the dog must also communicate with its fellow tribesmen, its social contacts cannot be limited only to communication with a person.

A dog can perceive a person as another dog, albeit a strange one, due to the fact that the puppy imprints not only the image of the mother, but also the image of the person (we will talk about this in more detail when analyzing socialization). However, communication between them is complicated by the fact that humans and dogs have different sensory systems that are the most informative.

Even more difficulties in forming relationships between dogs and people are caused by what sociologists call an incomplete family composition, which is now so common in cities. The most common options: parents and one child, a married couple who do not have children yet or who have already grown up and live separately. The dog remains alone for most of the day and experiences a basic lack of communication - its owners are either at work or asleep, and it finds itself in the position of an animal, either expelled from the pack, or orphaned.

The emotional climate that reigns in the family is also very important: with stable, friendly relationships, everything is fine. But a small quarrel between the owners is enough for the dog to experience serious stress. Under natural conditions, when the dominant sorts things out with its environment, low-ranking animals tend to get out of their sight and find something to do on the sidelines. In an apartment, even of a substantial size, this is difficult - do not forget about the dog’s excellent hearing. As a result, the more nervous the family relationship, the more problems it creates for the dog.

From the point of view of social comfort, a large family with people of different generations is most acceptable for a dog. In such a family, it is rare that no one is at home, i.e. the puppy does not experience daily loneliness. An adult dog fits perfectly into the family, obeying adults, being on equal terms with teenagers and protecting and nurturing children. We will return to the most acceptable social status of a dog in the family.

Basic behavioral complexes of the dog and the human family

Social behavior can be violated, as we have just shown, quite seriously. A person cannot (and should not) be a full-fledged social partner. Relationships with other dogs are most often realized through walking packs, but can be very limited or even completely excluded.

Territorial behavior develops most fully in a dog when kept on the street, but in this case, as a rule, there is a severe lack of social contacts with the owner, who devotes very little time to the dog. Moreover, the contact is always one-sided, the dog cannot come to the owner in search of communication, only he always decides whether to take care of the dog or other matters.

When living in an apartment, territorial behavior may be violated or not required at all. It's not even a matter of whether the owners approve of the dog's desire to guard the apartment. Even while approving, they constantly adjust this activity, allowing different persons, completely strangers from the dog’s point of view, to appear on the territory. The most inadequate is the complete overlap of the zones of value of the territory and the absence of the periphery. The apartment is essentially the core of the territory: after all, this is the place for day-time and dens (if there are puppies) and here is the feeding and watering station. But there may be no state of experience for the dog - after all, no matter what is written in the dog breeding manuals, not all owners arrange a corner for their pet where it feels at peace and safe. The fact that a dog sleeps in one corner or another is not a problem, but if it does not have its own place of refuge, even if it spends very little time there, this is extremely unnatural.

Certain social problems of the dog are also associated with a small apartment area. During those hours when the owners of the house are awake, the level of social contacts can be excessive, and sometimes it is simply impossible to avoid them. Small children and teenagers are often guilty of such obsession, who, having decided to play with a dog, can at some point tire it. Naturally, a conflict arises between the desires of the dog and the children, which parents do not always resolve fairly.

Sexual behavior a dog living in a family is always distorted and truncated. Even with the best attitude towards the dog, the owner does not have the luxury of allowing it to fully develop sexual behavior. The courtship complex is kept to a minimum, the choice of a partner in the vast majority of cases is up to the owner: a bitch is very often forced to mate with a male dog whom she sees for the first time in her life.

For a male dog growing up not in a full-fledged pack, but in the owner’s family, mating in some cases can be a source of conflict, since neither the people - members of his pack - nor the dogs he knows support his increased self-esteem. This situation is most realistic for very young male dogs with an unbalanced nervous system.

Parental behavior in a male dog it simply does not develop due to the lack of an object. He does not see small puppies; weaned puppies, which from time to time end up in the stud dog’s house (maintenance puppies for mating), rather irritate him with their incomprehensible behavior, sometimes even frighten him, since they manage to bite painfully with their milk teeth, and the dog does not handle them can.

In the bitch, parental behavior also rarely develops completely. Most often, her motherhood is interrupted at the most important and interesting stage for her. She is allowed to nurse the puppies for up to 45 days, after which they are distributed, sometimes within a few days. The bitch is not ready to be separated from them; often her milk has not yet run out. In terms of timing, she was only now beginning to communicate with the babies and raise them, and not just feed them and keep the nest clean.

In addition to temporarily truncation of the complex of maternal behavior, owners also interfere in every possible way in the process of raising puppies. Such interference often disrupts the natural order of things: many owners, feeling sorry for the “unfortunate little ones” and reproaching the bitch, force her to feed all the puppies, including those she rejected and who cannot survive on their own. However, seeing how the bitch repeatedly moves the puppy away from the others, buries him in the bedding, and the like, the owners, with no less persistence, place him near the milkiest nipples and feed him artificially.

They intervene in many other cases, for example, cleaning the maternity kennel when they consider it necessary, feeding the puppies without waiting for the mother to attend to this. By the way, many female pets have long lost not only the ability to burp puppies, which the vast majority of owners struggle with, but also to share food with their pups in general.
Apartment housing creates problems in the bitch's communication with the puppies: she is either forced to stay with them constantly, which is difficult for her, since the babies do not give the mother rest, or they allow her to contact them when it is convenient for the owners (this does not necessarily coincide with the desire of the bitch). As a rule, in an apartment it is impossible to provide a bitch with a litter with enough space to play and run around when the puppies begin to move confidently. Thus, difficulties arise in the implementation of maternal behavior.

Play behavior. It is usually considered necessary for a puppy and completely unnecessary for an adult dog. However, the animal must be able to play for almost its entire life. Moreover, if a puppy is largely satisfied by playing with objects, then for an adult dog social play, fussing with the owner, is much more important. Note that it is also important for a puppy, and these forms of play are usually not given enough attention, believing that an expensive toy from a dog store solves all problems.

Exploratory behavior. This form is just a problem. Everyone knows that a dog needs to be fed, walked and communicated with at a time convenient for you. Few people remember that the lack of new information for a highly developed animal is no better than hunger. Spending most of the time within four walls, where every corner, every sound and smell is familiar, the dog is in dire need of new impressions. Often it is the hunger for information that forces a dog to climb into closets in the absence of its owners, tearing things - it needs some kind of activity, gaining new knowledge: at least knowledge of what is inside a large sofa cushion and what a luxurious magazine for housewives smells like with fresh paint. ..

Status of the dog in the human family

So, what can be done to ensure that the pack-family is not so flawed from the point of view of the dog’s biology? Problems in the field of social behavior can be resolved if we act in several directions at once. Try to leave the dog alone as little as possible, restrain your impulses and negative emotions in its presence; there is absolutely no need to throw out the entire ocean of your feelings on the head of an animal that perceives emotions very vividly. Be sure to expand your circle of social contacts through communication with other dogs, introduce your pet to a suitable walking pack that would be interesting and enjoyable for the dog, even if some of the other owners are not so interesting to you. Form a social role for the dog and support it, as far as possible allowing the dog to act independently (of course, in a situation that is familiar to it within the framework you have allocated), find something for it to do. Satisfy the need for play as much as possible; diversify and change toys for your puppy. Give exploratory behavior an outlet by walking different routes, taking your dog to as many different places as possible. Try to expand the scope of the bitch’s parental behavior, interfere less with how she feeds, how she grooms, and how she plays. When giving away puppies, try not to do it very early, stretching out the separation as much as possible.

Since the family is, to a certain extent, a pack for the dog, you should think about what its status should be in this pack. It is absolutely impossible to let a decision take its course: nothing affects an animal as badly as uncertainty of status. The dog will still strive for certainty and sooner or later will win a place for itself, but this is how it will be... The owner may find himself in a completely disadvantageous position, since his pet will acquire a role in which it will, in principle, be impossible to control him.

The puppy's initial perception of the owner as a parent and provider may change as the dog grows older. This is quite natural, because in a pack, as already mentioned, the dominant is not necessarily the father of these dogs. In a human family, a teenage dog may well choose as his leader not the nominal owner, but another family member who is more worthy from his point of view.

Let's see what social roles are possible in principle when creating a flexible hierarchical system and what are the features of the relationship between the owner and the dog. We emphasize that these social roles apply only to males, With females the situation is fundamentally different.

Dominant dog. It is this distribution of roles that occurs very often when owners do not bother raising the dog. She grows as she grows, doing what she wants. Attempts by owners from time to time to bring the dog’s behavior into at least some correspondence with their habits and desires are prone to inconsistency: today the puppy is allowed to literally walk on its head, tomorrow they suddenly demand the execution of commands that it does not really know. The dog is in a state of complete uncertainty as to where its place is in the pack-family, what it can and must do.

Unfortunately, the owners not only let the young dog go, they also give it the opportunity to feel its own strength. As soon as the dog becomes stubborn, “offended” (in fact, this is just another way of disobedience), they leave him alone or allow him to do what they were just trying to prohibit. The dog quickly understands that perseverance brings desired results and almost any prohibition can be lifted. Growing up, the puppy begins not only to be stubborn, but also to threaten: at first he may simply growl, then he will definitely use his teeth. The usual reaction of owners to such displays of threat is to leave the dog alone, “so that it stops being angry.” This is the worst of decisions: the dog is not angry at all, she tries to control the lower-ranking members of the pack, and they obey her. Thus, the dog takes the place of a dominant, usually a tough one, since the lack of control experience and regular mutual misunderstanding lead the dog to the need to constantly demonstrate strength and get its way through threats and bites.

The further scenario usually depends on the physical capabilities of the dog: the larger and stronger it is, the more likely it is that the owners will be forced to give it to some protective kennel. The number of such “refuseniks” with whom the owners parted ways, finding themselves unable to manage them, is very large. As working dogs, “refuseniks” do not deserve a kind word, if only because at a young age they suffered severe social stress: first they achieved dominance in the pack, then they were expelled and in a new place they were very strictly placed within limited limits.

If the dog is small, the owners tolerate its despotism, often sincerely believing that the dog is nervous and that such behavior is actually normal. Both sides suffer from this. A young dog bears the overwhelming burden of managing a pack-family; the owners somehow adapt to the wayward animal, reduce the severity of conflicts, indulging all the whims of the pet. There is no talk of any full-fledged communication or control of behavior. The owners cannot rely on the dog for anything; its actions are largely unpredictable for them.

Subdominant dog. The status is formed in approximately the same way as in the first case, but here the owner usually encourages the dog to demonstrate aggression from an early age towards almost all people. Excessive aggression towards oneself is punishable by the owner. As a result, the animal develops high self-esteem, it sees that the dominant owner supports it, other family members are afraid, and try, as they say, to get along on good terms. Often a large guard dog finds itself in a subdominant position, the owners of which have read that this breed is a “one-owner dog”. Without understanding what this means, a person considers it normal that his dog obeys only him, behaves threateningly towards other family members, and even allows himself to have severe conflicts with them.

The subdominant status of a dog is actually quite dangerous for the owner. The animal, having high self-esteem, begins to claim dominance. A strong young dog cannot be satisfied with the position that he is one step away from the supreme power in the pack, so he constantly strives to take the first step. In such cases, conflicts between the dog and the owner arise with fair regularity, often turning into banal fights. In such a situation, there is no need to talk about the dog’s reliability as a protector and its pleasantness as a companion. This is the same case when a dog catches every wrong move of its owner; for it, achieving victory is the most important thing. It is not difficult to guess that the victorious subdominant turns out to be no less, but even a greater tyrant than the already described dominant. At best, his future fate is to become a “refusenik”; it is no less likely that the dog will have to be destroyed as socially dangerous.

Border guard. Here the picture is different: dogs with this status are usually sculpted by owners who are “obsessed” with precise training and the fact that the dog should know its place. They communicate dryly with a puppy or a teenager, play little, being afraid to caress or spoil them. Any misdemeanor committed by the dog is severely punished through no fault of his own. The owner rarely talks to the dog; all their communication comes down to commands and a whole system of prohibitions. In the house, the dog literally walks on one floorboard: it is forbidden so much that it remains surprising that a strict owner does not force the dog to breathe on command. Lack of communication and misunderstanding are usually enough for the dog to find its only outlet in protection; any strict owner warmly approves of such passion.
As a result, the dog barks at every sound outside the door, growls menacingly and rushes at the locked door when there are guests in the house. The most piquant thing is that if trouble really happens and the owner needs the help of the dog, he most likely will not receive it. The “border guard,” as we remember, does not enter into battle when the dominant is nearby; his job is simply to raise the alarm. For a dog living in a city apartment, the role of a “border guard” turns out to be uncomfortable, since it is possible to stay away from the core of the pack, i.e. from the owner and his household, practically none. The dog is constantly tense and feels insecure. The fact that it has confirmed several commands does not make it reliable; as soon as the situation changes, the animal will not be able to respond adequately. Very often, such dogs work perfectly on the training ground or in another familiar place, but in an unfamiliar environment they get lost.

"Uncle". This status is unthinkable in relation to an adult; it is usually formed in relation to a child.

Loyal ally. Perhaps this is the most optimal role for a dog in the family; we only emphasize that it means a younger partner. In such a situation, the dog is in excellent contact with the owner; in their relationship, aggression on the part of the younger one is unthinkable, despite the fact that, if necessary, the older partner may well use a show of force to persuade.

There is a system of prohibitions that dogs understand. The senior partner decides what the tandem does, without regulating every step and every breath. A lot of time is spent communicating, as such, playing, walking together. The dog feels confident, learning new things is easier, since the animal relies on the owner’s experience and readily imitates him and learns. For communication, for the most difficult training, the role of a loyal ally turns out to be the most convenient. The dog is completely reliable, and on top of everything else, adjusting its relationships with other family members is easy. For this, the example of the owner is sufficient: how he treats his household members is how a loyal ally will behave.

Now about the status of the bitch. Given its lesser hierarchy, relationships have to be built differently than with a male dog. The only possible role for a bitch is the junior partner of a loyal alliance, despite the fact that it is very easy to get a bitch who is a tough dominant. That is why the bitch should be prevented from showing aggression from childhood. She must clearly know that the owners will not tolerate such things, but demonstrations of requests should be encouraged whenever possible, no matter what they concern, be it a game, a tasty bite, or a desire to leave the house. It should be remembered that a request can only come from an animal that recognizes superiority over itself. A bitch has to forgive much more liberties than a dog, precisely because of the peculiarities of her behavior associated with gender. Where the male acts straightforwardly, the female is cunning, takes roundabout paths, and tries different options. Forcing her to open up completely and decide that this is the end of the matter will be a mistake. The next time the bitch tries to get her way in a different way, you have to be more persistent than she is.

Too harsh parenting usually produces the opposite of what was expected. As soon as they begin to communicate with a bitch in the language of brute force, without trying to maintain an atmosphere of a loyal alliance, she is immediately encouraged to respond in kind. As we remember, it is low ritualization, tough contacts and the absence of blocks to the aggression of a submissive dog that are characteristic of relationships between bitches. You should be especially careful during the onset of heat, when the bitch becomes nervous and aggressive. Even a very well trained bitch, who is in excellent contact with the owner, becomes unpredictable. A pregnant bitch is usually cautious, but if for some reason she decides that her offspring are being threatened, she may begin to protect them. Quite often you can hear from owners that their pet, so sweet and obedient, with the advent of puppies turns into a real fiend of hell, bites, does not allow the puppies to be touched, and literally terrorizes the family. The roots of this conflict are usually in the incorrect behavior of the owners themselves: when you start to analyze the situation in detail, it turns out that the bitch did not trust them too much, at some point she decided that the puppies were in danger and began to protect them. This, by the way, often happens to bitches, who are usually unsure of themselves, too uptight; the appearance of puppies forces them to switch to active defense. However, females with a high rank in the pack family also behave in the same way.

Let us repeat that only relations between loyal allies make it possible to achieve harmony.

Is it even worth getting involved with a system of flexible hierarchy, since anyway the family is not a full-fledged pack for a dog, why not build relationships rigidly? The question is quite logical, fortunately in security kennels this is very often exactly what happens: the handler is a strict dominant for the dog, orders are not discussed, relationships are strictly delineated within business boundaries. Let’s face it, such relationships are not the most adequate for protection; another thing is that with a “refuser” dog it is often difficult to build others. In addition, in kennels dogs have more opportunities to communicate with each other. In a family, when a dog is not only used for some purely utilitarian purposes, but also lived side by side with it, building rigid linear relationships turns out to be a vicious practice. If the owner constantly forces the dog to do something, threatens it, punishes it, he achieves perfect obedience while suppressing initiative. The dog becomes unreliable, nervous, afraid of the owner, obeys under pressure. As soon as the opportunity to disobey presents itself, the animal will not fail to take advantage of it. The dog may simply run away, unable to bear the constant pressure and cruelty of older family members.

Let’s summarize: the most appropriate social role for the dog and for all family members is the junior partner of a loyal alliance, implying good mutual understanding, the dog’s self-confidence when aware of its subordinate position, and the ability to be easily trained. At the same time, the dog’s subordinate position does not mean at all that it is lacking initiative.
You can and should let your dog act as a leader. For a bodyguard dog, for example, this is a prerequisite for effective work, and for dogs of other “professions” it is quite possible to find something in which they understand faster than the owner and perform it perfectly.

A distinction should be made between the status of the dog in relation to adult family members and the status in relation to children, adolescents and other special cases. It would be unnatural to demand from a dog a completely equal perception of all the people around him; such homogeneity of connections is unusual for the systems of living organisms.

Relationship between dog and child. The case when a puppy is already given to a small child is simple and does not require a separate analysis. Here we should remember not about the peculiarities of social organization, but, first of all, about the mutual non-harm of the child and the puppy. Both of them are clumsy, unbalanced and can cause injuries to each other in the game.

But the appearance of a newborn when there is already a dog is fraught with social conflict. After all, before that the dog was the youngest member of the family, they fussed with it, walked it, sometimes pampered it, and suddenly everything changed. A lot of prohibitions appear; owners try to limit the dog’s contact with the baby, sometimes they simply don’t allow the dog to come close. From the dog’s point of view, it all looks like this: from being partners in a loyal alliance, without any reason on her part, she suddenly became an outsider, all her actions are wrong, she is constantly chased, and is not allowed to move freely around the apartment-territory. At the same time, the dog is smart enough to connect his expulsion with the appearance of this unfamiliar creature, to whom all the care and attention of the older members of the pack are now directed. It is completely logical that the animal begins to have a bad attitude towards the source of its troubles. Further, the conflict will most likely enter the phase of a kind of chain reaction: the dog does not tolerate the newborn, the parents protect him even more jealously from the dog, and so on, up to the possible attempts of the dog to attack the baby. The dog will most likely have to be given away. How to avoid such a situation?

First of all, you should try to ensure that the dog’s life changes minimally with the advent of a child. You should not be afraid that an adult dog will harm the baby: a mentally normal dog just wants to understand that something has appeared in the house. Give the dog the opportunity to get to know the child, emphasizing in every possible way how dear he is to the parents. The dog's status in relation to adults should be maintained as before; it is still a partner in a loyal alliance; then very quickly the dog will begin to behave like a “guy” towards the little person. She will diligently protect him from strangers, even if she has never protected anyone or anything before, she will watch the baby with interest, having realized that the owners approve of such activities, and she will even be able to make sure that the child does not harm himself while playing. But in order to awaken the “uncle” in the dog, it is necessary to allow it to contact the baby.

As the child grows up, when he begins to actively explore the world around him, it is quite possible that conflicts of a different kind may arise between him and the dog. The child persistently pesters the dog, tugs at it, and it may well snap back. The dog cannot be punished for such behavior; it, in fact, puts an overly impudent puppy in its place, but the child can and should be explained that the dog is alive, that it also hurts. In any case, no matter what the conflict arises from, you first need to understand its origins, and then “punish or have mercy.” If the dog is wrong, the conflict can be resolved in a way that is understandable to it - it is best to provoke its repetition, being ready to act, and clearly make it clear to the dog what exactly the owner is dissatisfied with.

When allowing a dog to have the status of “uncle” in relation to a child, one should understand what the other side of these responsibilities is. The dog looks after the child and protects him - this is her duty to the pack family, but it is she who has the right to decide what threatens her ward and how to avoid this threat. Thus, the dog does not obey the child, it is higher in status than him, and it cannot be otherwise. You cannot expect a child to truly be the owner (dominant) of a dog. He has neither experience nor the ability to control an animal; the parents will always remain the owners. In their presence, a child can control a well-trained, confident dog, but for the animal it is just a game. Just as an adult dog teaches a teenage puppy to fight, toppling over at the slightest push and allowing itself to be patted by the throat, in exactly the same way a well-trained dog follows the commands of a little man who is not yet firmly on his feet, knowing that this game is pleasant for both him and to its real owners. From the outside it looks like the child is controlling the dog, but the slightest danger from the outside and the dog will act at its own discretion, not paying attention to the child’s attempts to control it. This must definitely be remembered when it comes to getting a dog for a child. It would be nice to have one with a child, but only adults can take on the burden of leadership and responsibility for all its actions.
Relationships are built a little differently teenager And dogs. Usually a dog grows up before the eyes of a teenager, so there is no conflict over a possible change in the status of the animal, but a lot of difficulties are likely to arise related to the mental characteristics of a growing person.

Of course, there are teenagers who are very serious, responsible, with good self-discipline, and who are quite capable of managing a dog well. However, this is why this age is called difficult, because a serious restructuring of the entire body occurs. The average teenager is characterized by instability, irresponsibility, self-confidence, and often also a fair amount of selfishness. And if you let the relationship between a teenager and a dog take its course, it is quite possible that nothing good will come of it. The teenager either “pushes” the animal with various commands, often without even expecting them to be carried out, or he literally forgets about the dog, which he took out for a walk, because he was carried away by playing with his friends. The requirements for the dog are constantly changing: either it is forced to give a paw, then five minutes later it is scolded for the same action, because it soils its clothes - there are many examples here. No less fraught with trouble is the desire to use the dog's protective qualities in play - not every dog ​​perceives the noisy fuss of teenagers as a safe game; it may well begin to seriously protect the young owner. It is precisely the imbalance, the “irregularity” in the eyes of the dog of adolescent behavior that is the reason that many dogs treat them warily, even with serious hostility.

It’s the parents’ job to explain to the grown-up child how he should behave with the dog; if the dog is serious, then simply do not allow him to take it out in his absence. It is interesting that the more conflictual the relationship between the parents and the teenager, the sharper the latter’s status in the dog’s eyes decreases, since the animal understands perfectly well that adults are dissatisfied with the child.

The relationship between a dog and a teenager is the most complex; are represented by a mass of transitional options, starting from the most prosperous: a serious, balanced teenager - the owner of his rather infantile dog - to various loyal unions. Unions of two creatures who are not socially mature enough are possible: the union of an “uncle”-dog and a teenager-younger, an infantile member of the pack and, probably, the most unpleasant union of a nervous, misunderstood teenager in the family with a twitchy dog ​​that really has no business in life. Here we are not far from an alliance of outcasts, prone to any adventures... It is necessary to understand exactly how the relationship develops in a teenager-dog pair in order to correct the behavior of both of its members in a timely manner.

The relationship between a dog and an elderly person. Sometimes they believe that a dog treats all family members weaker than it equally. This is fundamentally wrong. In the eyes of a dog, a person's status is determined not by his physical strength, but by his behavior. A person who is confident and consistent in his actions will always be perceived by the dog as strong. That is why a person, even a very old person, can easily control a dog of any size within the confines of an apartment. You just need to, we repeat, be consistent, not try to humanize the dog, and everything will be fine. The behavior of a dog on the street is another matter. Unpleasant situations are possible here precisely because the dog may not be able to match its strength, and an elderly person does not have enough reaction speed to prevent some action of the dog in advance. An elderly person, even one of poor health, can handle a medium-sized dog.

The last of the special cases is relationship between dog and guests. If the dog is not used as a guard, its contact with guests is quite possible. You just need to warn guests that you shouldn’t pay attention to the animal, don’t pet it or feed it. In such a situation, the dog calmly watches how people communicate, without imposing his company on anyone.

If you allow strangers to tinker with your dog a lot, you may end up with an animal that simply does not differentiate between friends and strangers. Blurring the boundaries of the pack is completely unnatural for a dog. Normally, an alien pack can calmly, even friendly, treat a step-bred puppy, but only in the absence of its parents. If an adult dog craves contact with someone else’s pack (in this case, guests), then in its own it experiences a lack of communication, business and information - this triad, as a rule, is inseparable. Of course, there are breeds with a greater degree of infantilism and those with less - the former are more willing to contact strangers. Nevertheless, too strong a need to communicate with strangers, an obsessive search for affection from strangers is a signal for the owners in any case.

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