You probably saw me on Dad’s Hawaiian shirt that Sissy got him for Father’s Day, or in person, or maybe on our logo. Dad constantly brags about me and how I “piss excellence” and that I am “kind of a big deal”. When he talks like that it, embarrasses me because I am so humble, but it’s all true.
Some things I remember and some things I have heard from Mom, Dad, Sissy, and Frank. I was born on August 10th in 2007 in Red Lion PA. My Mom Luna was super nice, my Dad however had been rescued from a crack house in Baltimore. They were not very nice to him and the only one that could go near him was my breeder. The good thing is I did get my stunning looks from him, and maybe a little attitude. It is also because of Dad that I have such a soft spot for rescue dogs and get so angry over the way some people treat dogs. I am also proud to say that I am a proud, purebred Olde English Bulldogge. I mention that because I am often confused with English Bulldogs. I am taller, more athletic, and have fewer health problems. My breed went extinct after they outlawed the practice of bull baiting in Great Britain in the 1830’s. A gentleman name Levitt bred English Bulldogs, Bull Mastiffs, and the American Bulldog in the 70’s in PA in an attempt to create a breed that was less aggressive yet much more powerful than the English Bulldog. The Olde English Bulldogge was the result. I am pretty damn close to what bulldogs looked like originally. Anyway, back to the story.
Sissy tells it this way, deciding that after two years of nursing school at York College, nursing was not for her. She enlisted in the Navy as an Air Traffic Controller. She was looking forward to her new adventure but was worried about leaving Dad. Apparently, Dad was a cop and involved in some serious stuff and got something called PTSD. She said it was kind of like having your foot on the gas pedal all the time. He couldn’t relax, was anxious, and avoided going anywhere or doing anything. She knew that Dad always wanted an Olde English Bulldogge and found some for sale on Facebook for $600, whatever that means. My sisters and I were two weeks old when Dad and Sissy came to see us. Dad liked the way I looked, and he picked me up. It was weird. He made me feel the way only Mom had. He sat there and held me for a long time and acted like he didn’t want to leave, but he did. He kept coming back until one day he took me with him and Sissy. We went home and met Momma, Frank, Emilie, Chica (Chihuahua), and Bogey (Boston Terrier). Bogey was an old man and really did not want to be bothered with me, but he did tell me one time that his breed was part Bulldog. After that, we were cool with each other. Then one day he was gone. Mom & Dad said he went over something called the rainbow bridge where apparently old dogs go so they don’t feel pain anymore and just lay in the sunshine forever. I still miss the old guy. He taught me a lot and never said much.
So, back to Dad taking me home. Even though Sissy said he hated crowds, that night he took me to a high school football game. He said I was allowed in because I was going to be a service dog. For not liking crowds, Dad sure did talk to everybody. Most about me of course.
One of the best day’s ever was when Dad first took me to see Dogfather Bob & Johny Cash. Through being an American Legion Rider, Dad met the Dogfather who was also a Veteran and retired law enforcement. He said Bob trained service dogs and that Johny Cash was the best one ever. Outside of the dogs at our house, I had never met another dog. In the beginning, I was a lot more interested in Cash than he was me. It figured that was how older dogs were, so I slowed my roll. I wanted to be just like him because I saw the twinkle in Bob’s eye every time he said “Cash.” Everything Bob & Dad showed me, Cash taught me. The best part was being able to play together after class. Cash and I would play with sticks, chase and chase each other until we were exhausted. I had no idea that when I met Cash he would become my first and best friend. I could see that Dad felt the same way about Bob. Very early on I felt like we were a continuation of something Bob had started on nothing but love for people and dogs.
Most of the other handlers and their dogs would train 1 hour a week. Dad and I were there more like four days a week for hours at a time. I was noticing that Dad was different. We were going places all the time and always together. At the time, Dad was working nights taking care of four guys that had intellectual & physical disabilities. Between them and my sister Emilie, I grew to love anyone with special needs and learned that different was good. Even after working nights, Dad would still go work with me, Bob, and the other Veterans and their dogs for hours and hours. I got so good at staying calm and realizing I did not need to be involved in anything. If I got frustrated, upset, or anxious, all I had to do was look at Dad and peace just came over me. When I was six months old, I was certified as a Service Dog. I would find out that lots of people think that is the end of training, but now I know it is only the beginning. You never stop working on a relationship and every minute of every day that Dad and I are together we are doing just that. We need each other.
Around this time, Dad started going to Freedom Biker Church in York and also something called Celebrate Recovery. First Dad went for his PTSD and truthfully did not see a problem with eating a Xanex like they were Pez and chasing it with a bottle of Irish Whiskey…..on a bad day….or anytime one of his buddies would come over. At the church, he made friends with some men like Pastor Jimmy, Dragon, Scumbag, and Inch. They also talk about Iron Sharpening Iron and had to tell the truth about his substance abuse. On June 17th 2017, Dad got sober and stopped trying to suppress his demons from being a police officer.
The Dogfather saw something in Dad and me. He asked Dad to apprentice under him as a trainer and the rest is history. It was not long before Dad & Bob left the organization that they were with. They started a new one with Pastor Jimmy as a ministry of the church called Cover Six Canines. Now years later it is non-profit, and Inch is the President. Dad met him at a rough time in his life as well and thought he needed a mission. He accepted it and it goes on. Bob is the head trainer.
Besides what he was doing with Bob, Dad read and watched everything he could about training dogs. He also watched in training how frustrated handlers were and how they would be moving all over and saying a bunch of stuff to the dog that were not commands. The entire time, constantly giving them treats for the smallest thing. Through watching me by myself, with Cash, and other dogs, Dad studied the way we communicated and narrowed it down to just three things: eye contact, movement, and touch. He began to work with me and the other dogs only speaking when giving a command or praise, and no treats. He was very aware of all his body movements and knew that the slightest movement would be interpreted by me as him trying to communicate. Dad, like the rest of the family, now saved and washed in the blood of the Lamb saw how the Lord was going to turn his mess into a message. Dad said through scripture he learned that the less you focus on your needs and more on that of others, the more at peace you both will be. Even though it does not work, people are fixated on pushing complicated human communication on their dogs, instead of embracing the simplicity of theirs. Focused Based Canine Training was born.
One day Bob was at a doctor’s appointment at the VA and asked Dad to handle class, but only one fella showed up with his puppy Sarge. That fella was a Vietnam Veteran like Bob. He had tried to hang himself in his garage when his wife found him. She said he needed a service dog and found the program. With them being brand new and nobody else around, Dad decided to start with his methods. By the end of the hour, the fella was so impressed that he asked Dad if he could pay to work with Sarge outside of class. Dad said yes and that was Dad’s first paying customer. Dad is not pushy about religion but will use any chance to tell you how Jesus changed his life from a retired cop with PTSD, a booze and pill problem, with a gun in his mouth to someone who was excited and full of life, whose life has been restored, and loves to share his gift with others. Dad was excited to get a call from that fella one day. He said that although he had cancer again, he was at peace because he had accepted Christ. This was the first but not the last time Dad would get phone calls and e-mails like that. Dad said the Lord uses dogs to insert him into people’s lives when they need the love of God the most. That is why MCS stands for My Canine Salvation. People and dogs who meet Dad just seem to know there is something different about him. He is peaceful.
In the spring of 2020, something very Dark came over Dad. All of a sudden, his personality was different. He was not laughing, not eating, and had become overwhelmed with anxiety and thought he could no longer train dogs. He became very suicidal, to an extent that nobody except me knew. He lost 60 lbs in three months and could not sleep. Mom would find him wandering around outside. Without me. His plan for every minute of every day of those three months was to take a 15 foot dog lead and hang himself at night in a dog park. Covid was going on and Sissy was stationed in San Diego. They sent her home on emergency Red Cross leave that was extended by her command to two weeks. Dad was so excited to see her, but could not “feel” her love, almost as if there was something between them. He felt the same way about everyone but me. Later, he would say that only two things kept him alive. One was knowing that the Holy Spirit is like electricity in the walls. When you don’t feel it, it is still there but you just are not plugged in. The other was what would happen to me. How would I understand. He would just sit in his chair with his hand on me sobbing. He kept praying although he felt disconnected. Then one day Mom was watching a friend’s Baby and asked Dad if he wanted to go for a walk. He said no, but remembered someone saying that if you don’t feel like doing something say “4.3.2.1” and just stand up and do it. Dad walked out the door, went for that walk and came home completely healed. Whatever it was came and went like flipping a light switch. Dad’s therapist Julie calls him Lazarus. All this experience did was make Dad a thousand more times more motivated to helping dogs and people by loving them where they are at.
Since 2017, Dad and I have worked with well over 3500 dogs, many of which were in last chance situations. Our videos and reviews speak for themselves. We never take a person’s word about their dog. Instead, we see what the dog has to say. It always comes down to being misunderstood. We don’t want to be in charge but when our person doesn’t, we have to. We are not trained for this, and it makes us very anxious and fearful. It is understanding this simple thing that allows Dad to so radically change a dog’s disposition within minutes of meeting it and without a word.
Think about how overwhelmed you feel from reading and watching all the crap out there about dog training that sends you in a dozen different directions. That is how we feel unless you speak to us in our language.
Well, my paws are tired. Hope you liked my story. Be blessed- Odin
