wyattraydawg – Page 32 – Way To Go Wyatt

Mom Sez “Rhys is Not a Chew Toy”

Three legged Shepherd Wyatt Ray learns not to chew on small dogs like Rhys.

Oh little Rhys, look, I promise, I won’t hurt you. You’re just so furry and fluffy, you remind me of my stuffies! I just want to use you as a chew toy!

Oh, don’t get offended, come on, don’t hide behind your Mom. Trust me, it’s nothing pawsonal.

I do it to all of the small dogs in the park, you know, the ones who are lovers and not fighters, the ones who don’t want to wrestle and bite me on the neck?

Your Mom is pretty cool for bringing you around, not once, but twice! I’m glad she’s not afraid of my extroverted pawsonality. So are my pawrents.

Rhys, did you notice I don’t try to chew on your big brother Dillon like I do to you? I never got to meet Spirit Peyton, but something tells me he and I would’ve gotten along great.

Little Puppy Lesson for the Day: Here’s a tip for you kiddo; stand tall like Dillon, and bruisers like me will leave you alone!

Uh oh. Mom says I have no bidness teaching you how to be a dog, when I can’t even control myself. I better shut up now, or she’s never going to let me go to the dog park or play with you again!

Later dude.

Look What I Can Do!

Three legged amputee rescue German Shepherd dog Wyatt Ray goes to American Dog School in Fort Collins.

I can sit with other dogs. And not try to eat them!

I’m still going to dog skewl in town. The Belt Buckle says I graduated from basic classes (whatever that means) and now I just go every Saturday morning to group therapy.

All us dogs get together and we do things like parade around eachother, sit, stand, stay, blah, blah blah.

There are all sorts of dogs there, even little ones, but mostly it’s a big dawg thang. We get along pretty good, except for one poor guy named Wyley who keeps trying to pick fights.

Dad and Mom say I’m not the worst dog in the class, and they’re right! There are dogs worse than me! Before I started going to class, I couldn’t be anywhere near other dogs without letting them know I’m The Sherriff. Now, I still have to let them know I’m coming, but once I get there I really don’t feel the need to keep announcing my presence. I’m big and bad enough they know I’m there.

This skewls pretty kool, I can go to as many classes as I want to, for as many years as we want. Mom says we’ll be going forever, this skewl things is supposed to keep me in shape!

My Independence Day

Three legged German Shepherd dog Wyatt celebrates one year anniversary of his leg amptuation.

July 2nd, 2009. One year ago today, I broke free from the shackles of my oppressor. It cost me my leg, but the good people at the German Shepherd Rescue of Northern California made sure that I found the right pack to help me transition to the Tripawd lifestyle.

Like any self-respecting dawg would, I never looked back at my old life. Once I joined the Tripawds pack, I got swept up into foster care, and when my new parents took me in, I couldn’t believe my good luck.

No more being tied to a rope all day, no more concrete back yard in the ghetto. I busted out of hell and now, one year later, I know I’m in heaven.

In one year, I’ve learned to walk, run and create a ruckus on three legs. I’ve gotten to see a lot of cool places, and now here I am, living at Jerry’s Acres in Colorado.

Tonight as I stretch out on the comfy rug next to Dad, I really am pretty thankful. Sometimes I don’t show it, but now that I’m older (17 months tomorrow!), I let Mom hug me and squeeze me and smush my face with her kisses. I didn’t used to let her do that, you know. I didn’t want any creepy humans to touch me, I wasn’t sure if they would tie me to a rope or what.

But now, I think this good life is making me soft. And the Belt Buckle is teaching me that a strong pack is a good pack.

Mom said something about a big piece of beef waiting for me in the freezer for my ampuversary dinner. Yum! Gotta run!

Hoppy Ampuversary to Meeeeeeeee!

Oh, if you’re wondering what kind of present to get me for my ampuversary, all I want is for more pups to find pawesome furever homes like I did. We dogs have a lot to teach you crazy humans, so get out there and help us find homes, will ya?

Game Over?

Three Legged Wyatt Ray meets Tami of American Dogs School Fort Collins Colorado

Since I busted out of Oaktown, I’ve been put through a lot of training devices, books and consultations. Apparently my pawrents think my behavior needs some modifications.

They don’t like the fact that I’m so expressive, like when I bark my head off at the enemy, or go after small dogs who look like squirrels to me. Yo Mom and Dad, this is my JOB!

I think I’ve been pretty nice in tolerating their attempts to make me into a wussy. I thought I had seen all there was to see when it came to dog training.

But last week, this lady blew my mind.

We met some rodeo chick in Fort Collins who supposedly can tame even the wildest, biggest beast. She runs the Bad Boy Dog Skewl in town, and guess who got thrown into her rehab program?

She told Mom and Dad she guarantees they’ll get the dog they want.

Lady, you might have a big belt buckle, but you’re dealing with a member of the Oaktown Pack.

Wyatt. Ray. Dawg.

Put your dukes up!

Game ON!

Who’s a Water Dawg?

How not to teach a three legged German Shepherd dog how to swim.

If I was meant to swim in water, I would’ve been born with webbed feet, or at least with a Float Coat strapped around me.

But for some reason, my pawrents think that I’ll have a good time if I get my fur soaking wet in ice cold water.

I tried to tell them when we were camped next to a river in Texas, but they wouldn’t buy it. “The water is so warm Wyatt, get in!” The begged me but I wouldn’t do it.

Then, last week we went to a dog park in Fort Collins that has a swimming pond.

There were a lot of crazy dogs there who loved getting in the water. Beats me why they thought it was so fun. But everyone there thought I should get in too.

The humans kept begging me to go in.

Then you know what they did? They took my tennis ball, and threw it in the water. “Go git it, Wyatt!” they yelled. I thought that was pretty mean. There I was, having a good time chasing small dogs with a tennis ball in my mouth, when all of a sudden it was grabbed away from me and I was expected to swim.

Ok, so I got in up to my elbows. And then I got out. My new buddy got mad, and yelled at me to get back in, but no tennis ball was worth it to me.

Yeah right. I am a Shepherd after all! I was born to patrol water, not get into it and end up looking like that!