We took Meg to Instow, Devon. This is as close to dog-world as it’s possible to find in England. There are no signs, but I think it’s possible there is a rule somewhere which specifies that people are only allowed to visit Instow if accompanied by a dog. Most people seem to have two or three. There are dogs everywhere—straining against leads on the path along the waterfront, under tables in pubs and cafes, running along the disused railway cycle-route, charging across the beach. Dog Heaven. If you want to introduce a child or puppy to dogs, this is the place to come. (At night, under cover of darkness, when most people are inside, you can spot all the people with unsociable dogs—mostly the owners of German shepherd dogs—walking along the beach, avoiding snarly encounters with other more friendly dogs.)
Meg is great on trips to Instow. She travels really well in the car—no barking because she’s bored (which my previous dog did), she simply curls up in her crate and goes to sleep. At service stations there is lots to see and smell, so she walks next to me, does not chase cars (no idea why, maybe because they’re all moving slowly) and toilets when instructed. She is on full-alert, but also obedient. A rare combination for Meg.
Alert in Costa services
We stay in a house near the beach which has a fully enclosed garden and hard floors; perfect for a dog. We always take a crate, because although I mostly trust Meg, I would hate for her to chew something structural. I also do not attempt to take her into pubs and cafes. She might be good, but she might not, so why risk it? She’s relaxed in her crate.
Meg loves the beach. We throw sticks, and all her attention is on those—she ignores the millions of other dogs on the beach, even when they run up to her. She charges across the sand, rushes into the water—her whole body is happy. A happy dog is beautiful.
Of course, perfection has limits when it comes to Meg, and getting her from the house to the beach was a nightmare. After the first visit, Meg knew that she loved the beach and was desperate to go there. She would sit in the hallway, staring at the door, telling us she was ready. Whenever we left the house Meg was completely overcome with excitement and used all her strength to rush us to the beach. Plus there were cars, which added to the tension. Plus there were other dogs barking–which although Meg doesn’t bark herself she is noticeably tense about. Therefore every time we walked to the beach, we had this leaping, yelping, twisting, tiger on the end of the lead. Other people (with well-behaved dogs) watched in horror and disapproval. It was at this point that Husband lied. We were having a particularly stressful walk to the beach and a couple stopped to watch, their faces full of fear and disapproval. They probably thought we were stealing a dog, or that Meg was a vicious monster. Husband looked at them and said, ‘She’s a rescue dog.’ Their expression changed instantly, they were full of sympathy and admiration for our kindness in taking on such a difficult dog. ‘She’s lovely really,’ I tried to say, ‘She just wants to chase the cars.’ The woman nodded kindly. ‘Obviously she has had a bad experience somewhere,’ she said. I was silent. The only bad experience Meg has had is that we never managed to train her properly–but I decided not to blow Husband’s cover. When we reached the beach, whatever switch in Meg’s brain that makes her uncontrollable turned off. She became a lovely obedient dog, focussed on sticks, obeying my commands.
Instow is on an estuary, so the water is usually calm. We look across the water to Appledore. At night the lights of the town shine on the water. An image of peace.
We stayed for a few days. We both had some work to do, and in between times we wandered across the beach, ate in pubs, went for long walks. It was a chance to recharge batteries, have a break from normal routine. I like visiting costal towns out of season, and we have visited Instow several times now. I love it. Although I’m not sure if I would be allowed to visit unless I had a dog…
Hope you have a good week and do not find it necessary to lie. Thanks for reading.
Before we bought Meg (sweet naive souls that we were) we tried to plan ahead. Our kitchen is open-plan style, which isn’t great for a new puppy, so some friends lent us their ‘puppy pens.’ They had two kinds, both used successfully with their Weimaraner puppies. One pen was fairly solid and not too big—ideal for in the kitchen. The other was lighter and bigger—perfect for the garden.
We collected Meg from the breeder, brought her home and placed her in the kitchen. After knocking over a plant, running round, peeing on the floor, etc in about two seconds, we put her into the first puppy pen. For a minute or two, all was calm. But Meg had no intention of staying inside the playpen, she wanted to be with us. When I moved away, Meg used the bars of the pen like a ladder, climbing up to the top. I managed to catch her as she fell backwards (very dangerous). Clearly this was not a safe place to leave her unattended. We assembled the lighter, larger puppy pen—maybe the larger slats would be too wide for Meg to climb. They were. Meg did not scramble up the sides, instead she used all her weight to heave into the corner, which obligingly slid across the kitchen floor. Meg triumphantly reached me, dragging the pen behind her. Not a success.
We now had nowhere safe for Meg to be left. She had a crate, for sleeping, but it was small, too small to be left in. (The idea of ‘crate training’ in case you have never done it, is that you gradually introduce the puppy to a crate, which then is their safe place, like a den in the wild. When toilet training a young puppy, you have a bed-sized crate so the puppy cannot sleep at one end and toilet at the other which encourages them to form bladder control. Of course for this to not be cruel, the owner has to very frequently, day and night, take them to an appropriate place to toilet. The timing depends on the puppy. For Meg, it took one night, we never had another accident. For my black Labrador puppy it took 10 years and I’m not completely sure she ever fully understood where she was supposed to pee.) We needed somewhere else that was safe to leave hyper-active puppy unattended during the day.
It was a problem, solved by Husband-Fixer-Man, who set off at about 8pm, determined to solve the problem. He spent some time on the internet, then informed me he had found the biggest crate available, it was available in Argos about 10 miles away, they were open until 10pm, he was on it! Off he went. Some time later, he returned with the biggest box ever fitted into a Land Rover. From it emerged a crate, which when assembled took up a sizeable amount of kitchen floor. It was huge. It was also Meg-proof. She could not climb the walls, she could not move it along the floor, and it was big enough that I felt she could safely be contained with her toys when I was unable to be on puppy-duty. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
Over time, Meg moved from the smaller crates, and the huge crate was the only one we kept. It has been useful when we have guests who don’t like dogs, or guests who are fragile, because Meg can be shut inside and everyone is safe. She likes it, and even though the door is rarely shut unless we have visitors, she generally chooses to be in there and sleeps in there every night (with the door wide open). However, the top has become a dumping place for things. Over time old towels have been stored there, toys she no longer uses, odd bits of gardening equipment. I am not naturally tidy, and I stopped ‘seeing’ what was dumped ‘temporarily’ on top of the crate. Plus it took up a huge amount of kitchen floor.
I decided it was time to move it out. Meg rarely needs to be shut away, and when she does she can be put into the utility room. (To be fair, she hates it in there because she can’t see what is happening, so she would much prefer the crate stayed.) I experimented with putting a nice comfy dog bed inside the crate, planning to move the crate when something else had become her bed. She hated the comfy cushion. For a few nights she slept squashed next to it in the crate. Then she abandoned the crate and slept on the doormat. Then she tried to remove the comfy cushion from the crate and when that proved too difficult she tried to eat it.
I removed the partially shredded cushion and put it in the dustbin, replacing it with a towel. Yesterday, we removed the crate. I placed the towel in the same spot on the floor, and told Meg this is her bed. Meg lay on it. Later, while we were eating, I told Meg to go to her bed. She went and sat on the towel. This morning, when I came into the kitchen, Meg was asleep on the towel. Sorted. Very little has been easy with Meg, but being adaptable is one of her strengths. She understands her ‘bed’ is the towel. No crate required. Perfect.
I’m now enjoying my spacious kitchen. Thanks for reading. Have a good week.
I have ducklings, rescued from the pond, in a crate in the garage. Meg is interested. I take her with me, and hold a duckling for her to sniff. She’s very excited, and tries to lick it. I speak very calmly, praising her, ensuring she stays sitting. It’s not (yet) very calm, and I can tell she’s bursting to leap on them. But I will continue.
I had a nightmare. It was very grim—something evil was hovering over the bed and I knew I needed to wake-up but I couldn’t. I screamed (which did wake me). Husband came running. The point of this, is that Meg was asleep on the floor next to me, and her reaction was…zero. I screamed a full-panic, real fear, scream. Meg did not move. I do not find this reassuring in terms of guard-dog duty. I suspect if a burglar came she might join him if he looked more fun than me. She scores 100% for resilience, 0 for empathy, 0 for security. Sometimes I wonder why I keep her.
Considering options
18/4/2026
Walking Meg in the woods is delightful. She is very obedient, especially when off-lead, and will come and walk beside me on command. She still grabs at sticks occasionally, so I wear tough gardening gloves to avoid losing a finger. But other than risk of losing a limb, she is great! I’m especially proud of her when other dogs invade her space, as she will always ignore them and come to me when called.
On a less good note, I still do not feel she likes me much. When no one else is here, she will faithfully follow me wherever I go, and will sleep on the floor beside my bed. But anyone more exciting (which seems to include everyone) Meg is off, looking for better company. This annoys me. I feed her, walk her, pick up her mess—but it is Husband who she greets enthusiastically. This morning, I opened her cage, bent to fuss her—Husband walked into the kitchen—she rushed off to bounce him happily and take him gifts of dirty towels. I was ignored, of no interest whatsoever. I find this odd. All my other animals like me, so I feel the fault is hers. It makes me less tolerant of her bad points (which is perhaps not rational, but I feel she should love me best!)
By the way, introducing Meg to the hatchlings has not changed her behaviour at all. She still views them as things to chase/bark at. I will continue to keep them separate unless she is extremely closely monitored.
2/4/2026
Meg has been fairly good this week. We have a nice routine in the morning, when she comes into the field with me and I water the new plants. Goose and Maverick are out, but behind a flimsy fence (it wouldn’t keep Meg out if she decided to join them, but it’s a psychological barrier, and it keeps the birds contained, even Maverick the fighty cockerel). If I am holding a stick, and I concentrate on directing her, then Meg stays with me, and doesn’t bark at the birds. She walks to the middle of the field with me, then stops and watches me walk the rest of the way. If I call her, she will join me (just to check whether I have anything interesting, then she returns to the middle of the field).
When I need to refill the waterings cans, at the tap right next to the birds, Meg is almost good. I tell her to ‘stop’ and to ‘wait’ in a place about a 100 yards from the bird enclosure. Meg stands still. I turn to walk towards the tap, Meg creeps forward a step. I turn, make unhappy noises, she stops. Every time I move towards the tap, Meg moves closer. It’s like one of those ‘creeping up’ games you played as a child. It’s very disobedient, and as a GSD, Meg should be completely obedient. But she’s busy concentrating on moving without me noticing, which means she is ignoring the birds, so I don’t really care. Life with Meg is all about compromise. She rarely does exactly what I want, but ‘close enough’ is okay.
August 2026
Meg is being hard work. I think this is due to lack of routine—we have been away a few times, there have been visitors in the house and I have been distracted by work and ill family. This means Meg has not been my focus, and she has started to ignore me when I tell her to do something. This week she even refused to come to be put on the lead in the woods, and then almost refused to jump into the car—problems I thought we had cured years ago. She makes me cross, because life has been disrupted for me too, and I don’t have any patience for her naughtiness.
On a brighter note, we used ‘Rover’ and no one died. Rover is an online site, a little like Airbnb for dog-sitters. You upload details about your dog (like whether they can cope with other dogs, or cats, or children) and then you look for a suitable host on the website. They can then ask further questions before agreeing to take your dog. We were going to Cambridge for the weekend, and it was holiday time so all the kennels were completely full, and several friends have recommended Rover. I was nervous. I worried about whether Meg would be safe (although we specified an enclosed garden and no walks, but people might interpret that loosely). I also worried whether the host would be safe—Meg has a lot of enthusiasm and is incredibly strong. There wasn’t a tick-box for ‘Is your dog like an excitable tiger?’ but we did our best. We found a host conveniently near Cambridge, and delivered Meg. I worried a lot. The host seemed very nice, and I felt a cross ‘sergeant-major figure’ may fare better with Meg. She also had a very nice house, with lots of pretty things that a tail might sweep to the floor. I did my best to explain that one of them needed to be the boss and it should not be Meg, and that it was probably best to contain her in the kitchen and garden rather than having free access to her very tidy house. But I still worried. We left.
Later that evening, we messaged (to make sure the host wasn’t weeping). We received a happy message in reply, and a photo of Meg, looking very pleased with herself, sitting in the lounge (though not on a sofa, thankfully). I tried to relax. When we collected Meg, the house was full of visitors, all of them said goodbye to Meg and seemed to genuinely like her. Meg (of course) was completely fine. She is bomb-proof (probably why her siblings are used in the police/army). It would take a lot to shatter her happy confidence (which is one reason why I was willing to risk leaving her—I would not have left my other slightly less robust GSD). After we were home, Meg received a review from the host on Rover. It said she was a happy affectionate dog, and the host had enjoyed having her to stay. That was nice.
Ruth is staying with us again. Meg loves this (and it’s one reason why she has been difficult, because Meg feels she now has options as to whether to obey me). Meg will be asleep in the kitchen, and will suddenly sit up, then race upstairs. Seconds later I hear Ruth’s bedroom door open. Meg enjoys leaning against Ruth, going into her bedroom (which is not allowed) and licking Ruth’s feet (I think Ruth is less keen on this). I will attempt to reinstate some discipline after Ruth has left. Meg sees her as backup in her quest to ignore me.
A very bad morning. I was out, Husband took Meg into the garden. There was a duck on the lawn, Meg tore after it, ignoring Husband, caught the duck, killed her. I am so angry with Meg. I have repeatedly tried to teach her not to chase my birds, repeatedly distracted her so she doesn’t bark at them, constantly tried to teach her to be safe around them. But clearly, she is not safe with them.
The ducks are semi-wild (mostly the offspring of wild ducks which I have rescued from crows and raised on the pond, and they have decided to stay because I feed them). In the Spring, the drakes are annoying, so the hens will fly over the fence onto the lawn, away from the drakes. Usually, when they hear us in the garden they fly back, onto the pond. This one obviously wasn’t fast enough.
By the time I got home, there was nothing that could help the duck, who was lying, terrified, under a tree. I gently picked her up, and laid her in a nest of fresh hay, safely enclosed, so she could die in peace. Horribly sad.
I am so angry with Meg. I know that her instinct is to chase (although not to kill—she must have been very rough to have killed it) but she knows that she must not touch my poultry, which is why she was running away from Husband as soon as she had it, why it became a game to her, something to play with. It shows complete lack of obedience, lack of impulse control, lack of empathy (because I am sure that his tone of voice should have warned her that this was not a game, and she should stop).
After I sorted the poor duck, I went into the house. Meg was shut into the utility room. I told her to go into her crate. Something in my voice subdued her. She knows she has been bad. She knows I am angry with her—her tail is down and her ears and back and she is not making a fuss to be free, even though she would not usually be confined to her crate during the daytime. I am so angry and upset I need space from her for a while. After that, I will try to decide what to do. I have no idea whether there is a way to teach her not to touch the birds—it’s not as if I haven’t tried. I need an albatross to come and terrify her, so she never touches birds again. When things like this happen, I just feel defeated, and want to rehome her. I have not felt like that for a very long time now, but today I could send her back to the breeder and replace her with a normal German Shepherd dog. One who listens to me. Like Kia did.
Thursday 12/3/2026
We needed to go to Sheffield (to collect goose eggs to hatch) and I didn’t want her in kennels again so soon, so we took her with us. She was perfect. (Never thought I would write that!) We put her into her crate in the boot, loaded our cases, and set off. After several hours we stopped at services. I walked Meg round the car park, and through the services (because there was no sign saying dogs couldn’t enter) and Meg was great. There was noise, and people, and sliding doors, queues for food, people eating (so food smells) a games area full of flashing lights and loud sounds—Meg walked next to me on the lead, noticing everything but unperturbed by any of it. Marvellous.
When we arrived in Sheffield, we set up her bed in the Airbnb and had a cup of tea. Then we left her, in the strange house, while we went out for dinner. Meg was fine (I checked). She curled up in her bad and slept.
I didn’t attempt to walk her along the streets (she’s always awful) and I decided that being either inside or in the garden for a few hours was no worse than being in kennels. Meg seemed fine. In the house, we could hear the dog next door barking. Meg growled a few times, but mostly ignored it.
The next day, we put her back in the car and drove home. Again, she was perfect. She sat and watched the traffic, or lay down (not sure if she slept) and when we stopped she walked nicely beside me, toileted on grass next to the road, got back into the car without a fuss. I was very pleased with her.
As I said, we were collecting goose eggs. I hope to hatch some. I also hope that while I am raising the goslings, I can involve Meg in a calm way, and that she will realise they are fragile, and that instead of being things to chase they will be things she guards. (Surely, deep inside, there is some shepherding instinct??) This is my hope. We shall see…
Thanks for reading. I hope you have a good week and all is calm in your world. Take care. Love, Anne x
Meg in field, not guarding geese.New bed. Not sure.Favourite sleeping positionJust plain naughty
Meg is extremely unhappy. On Saturday she went in the garden with Husband. When Husband is in the garden, it is often to destroy something—take down a dead tree, pull up ivy, dig up an old root. Meg seems to have noticed, and joins in with enthusiasm—which means that if she goes into the garden with Husband she is also destructive (but not in a good way). He blames the personality of the dog (but I don’t tend to have this trouble when I am in the garden with her—just saying).
Anyway, on Saturday they both disappeared into the garden (one on a mission to destroy) and I started to vacuum (not my favourite thing). In a very short while, they both came back, Husband saying that destructor-dog had hurt herself during a frenzy of destroying old logs. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but as she blasted her way through a bush she yelped, hopped, charged across the lawn and through another bush, yelped again. She was now limping and licking her front paw.
I checked, but couldn’t see any sign of thorns or tears. I thought she may have caught her ‘dew claw’ on something. (These are the doggy equivalent of thumb nails, and some people remove them because they often catch on things and cause trouble.) Saturday evening passed peacefully enough. Meg licked her paw occasionally, but nothing troublesome, and when we went in the field she forgot about it and walked quite happily and then let me hose it, so I thought all was fine. Probably just a thorn which was now gone, or caught her nail, something minor.
Sunday morning, Meg got out of her bed, and her back legs were weird and she was limping. This was a shock. I am very worried about her back hips, because she has always sat ‘wonky’ so I worry they are not properly aligned or something—but she walks/runs/charges without problem, so I have always reassured myself. Now I was worried—had my fears come true?
However, it soon became apparent that it was not her hips but a back foot that was causing her problems. She wouldn’t put it down, and kept licking it. The licking turned to more persistent bothering, and she made it bleed. Which meant we had to resort to a collar—you know, one of those big plastic cones that fit around a dog’s head and make it impossible for them to lick their limbs. We had an old one from when Kia was alive, and we fitted it onto Meg. She was terrified.
Meg sat, shaking, refusing to move. I tried to reassure her, stroking her, talking calmly, being close. Meg bashed her way into her bed (she couldn’t account for her extra width) and did not move all day. She would not eat, nor drink, nor be tempted from her bed. It was very sad. I worried she would dehydrate, so resorted to squirting water into her mouth with a dosing syringe. I was pretty sure there was nothing urgent wrong, nothing deemed worthy of a trip to the animal hospital (why do animals always hurt themselves at weekends when the vet is closed?). We decided to wait until today, and book an appointment with her vet.
Gradually, Meg began to get used to the collar. After about 12 hours, she left her bed and walked around, bashing into things. Her solution to the difficulty of not-fitting through gaps due to her expanded width was to try and force her way through things, and she was very difficult to guide/help. But she did go outside to toilet, and she did drink. No food though, not even when I tried to handfeed her.
We are just home from the vet. Meg was clearly in a lot of pain, and actually snarled/growled when she was examined (which is the first time she has ever done that). Her temperature was 42 (should be 38) so there is some kind of infection. She did not keep still (this is an understatement—think ‘trying to contain a hurricane’ and you will get the picture). The vet sent us away with antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told us to return in a couple of days if no improvement. (Their Xray machine is being fixed, but will be ready on Wednesday. Plus I think he needed recovery time after trying to examine Meg.) He said it might be a broken toe, or a thorn—either way the treatment is the same. If no better on Wednesday they will sedate her (never good, because there are always risks) and do a proper examination. Poor Meg.
I fed her a piece of cheese with her pill. She very quickly managed to separate the two and spit the pill sideways out of her mouth, into the cat bowl. (I think this was a fluke!) I then gave her just the pill (she is very good about me putting things into her mouth) and waited until it was gone.
I took her into the garden and she spent a long time attempting to pick up a log while wearing the plastic cone. We have bought a replacement cone, because I don’t think the current one will survive until Wednesday. Nor, I fear, will the door frames which get thoroughly bashed. I am hoping she gets the hang of her increased width soon.
21/1/2026
Meg is still not used to the added width of the cone (which she is wearing to stop her licking damaged foot). She simply rams it with increasing force at whatever object stands in her way. The cone has a huge crack in it—I doubt it will last more than one more day. Luckily, her foot is healing well. She went back to the vet, who said it was extremely unlikely that anything is broken. She has to continue with her meds (penicillin and anti-inflammatory) but she seems to be doing well. It certainly has not slowed her down, not now she is used to the scary cone (which made her petrified for 12 hours).
25/1/2026
The cone has gone. At least, during the day Meg no longer wears it. This is at partly due to the fact that I could not cope with the pain of it crashing into my legs whenever Meg was trying to force her way past me, or round me, or through me. The hard plastic cone would dig into my leg, causing bruises and pain. Therefore, I made the executive decision that during the day, Meg’s foot is well enough to risk occasional licks. We put the cone back on last night, because I worried the foot might get chewed during the night when no one was watching, but first bash at 7 a.m. this morning, it was removed again. It is entirely possible that Meg realises this and is bashing me on purpose—if so, she has won. Such is life with a GSD.
It is rather wonderful to be able to walk her freely again. I have taken her to the woods a few times, and it brightens my day to watch her bounding through the trees, stick (log) in mouth, tail wagging. Her whole body shows her delight, and it’s contagious, I cannot watch her happiness and not feel the joy myself. Maybe this is why God invented dogs, they teach us what joy is. (And resilience!)
Mandy has moved into the house. I have some cats, which originally came from a farm and they have always lived outside. When I have needed to bring them inside (because one is injured) they have been very unhappy, constantly seeking ways to escape. They live in the workshop, and I feed them, take them to the vet for vaccines—just as if they were pets in my home, but they live outside. They do not like Meg, because she chases them. I have tried to stop this, but other than using one of those zappy collars (which seem cruel to me) I can’t think how to train her not to chase them. Luckily they are much faster than her, and can climb trees, so she has never managed to bounce one.
However, several months ago, Mandy left home. I did not see her throughout the whole summer, and I assumed she had either been run over, or had moved home. But then, just before Christmas when the weather turned very cold, I began to see her, in the fields near the house. She wouldn’t come near enough for me to catch her, but she has very distinctive markings, so I was sure it was her. Then one morning, a woman knocked on the door, saying she had found a cat wandering in the lane and planned to take it to the vet (not sure why, as it could have been a feral cat—there are several on the farm)—unless it was mine? It was Mandy. I managed to catch her, and brought her inside.
Now, just before a busy Christmas is not the best time to sort out an animal who wants to live rough. Therefore, after a quick check-over by the vet, I gave her a heated bed and food and water, and left her in the garage. This was fine over Christmas, but she could not live there for ever. I suspect she moved out because she doesn’t like Meg. But it’s not safe for her to live rough, especially in the winter. I am now trying to persuade her to live inside. If I cannot train Meg to not bounce her, and I can’t persuade the cat to be happy inside, then I will have to rehome her. (The cat, not Meg. Although sometimes it’s tempting.) I shall give it my best attempt.
Currently, the cat has her food, water and litter tray in a dog crate, next to the one where Meg sleeps. Whenever Meg is outside, or in the rest of the house with me, the cat is free to wander the kitchen. When Meg is in the kitchen, the cat is shut into her crate. At first there was a lot of hissing, but things have started to settle down.
I had the cat from birth, and she had lots of interaction with Kia, my previous (wonderful) GSD, so she is not scared of dogs per se, just wary of bouncy Meg. Therefore, now she realises Meg cannot reach her in the crate, she simply ignores Meg.
In contrast, Meg is fascinated by the cat. She now chooses to lie, right next to the cat’s crate, poking her nose against the bars. Sometimes the cat slaps her, sometimes they sniff noses. Whenever the cat eats, Meg goes to her own bowl and eats her food. The only times she barks at the cat is if she sees us stroking the cat, so now I am careful not to do that. I am trying to encourage Meg to see the cat as hers, something she needs to protect. I tell her to lie down when she gets bouncy, and I stroke Meg until she is calm.
My plan is to gradually decrease the barriers between them, keeping Meg busy with something so the cat becomes ‘background,’ something normal. Not something exciting to be chased. I don’t think this will transpose to outside, when I am pretty sure Meg will continue to chase anything that moves, but I am hopeful this will be different inside. I will next start with a psychological barrier (the vacuum cleaner—Meg will never step over it, she hates it). Not sure how this will go.
17/1/2026
The cat/Meg combo continues to improve. I am aware that a single mistake, whereby Meg decides to chase the cat, will end the possibility of them both living freely in the house together. But so far, we are making tiny steps in the right direction. They continue to have crates next to each other, and happily sleep/eat with only the bars between them. They seem very relaxed together, although there is usually still a barrier between them.
This week I have allowed them limited time in the same space—always when Meg has been given a ‘mission’ first. This means her focus is on whatever ‘job’ I have given her, and so although she knows the cat is under the table, or on the chair, she ignores her. For example, I will tell Meg we are going in the garden, or to get in the car. Then I open her door, and Meg goes straight to the car/garden, ignoring the cat. So far, so good.
I have also, while I have been in the kitchen, used the vacuum cleaner to divide them. The cat was asleep on the chair, I put the vacuum cleaner on the floor next to her, and released Meg. Meg was perturbed, and kept an eye on the cat, but did not pass the scary cleaner. Eventually she relaxed, and lay down. This gives me hope that I will manage to make the cat ‘boring,’ something to be ignored.
The cat takes no notice of anything. She was born in the garage, and I had read that anything a cat encounters in the first 10 days it will accept, but after that it will never change (which is why a feral cat is always a feral cat, however much it is nurtured in later life). I therefore made sure my kittens encountered as much life as possible in those first 10 days—I vacuumed the garage, Kia my GSD went in regularly and licked them (oh, for a lovely calm GSD again…) they had the radio playing, etc. This means the cat is now very chilled. As long as I can keep her physically safe from Meg, and not allow chasing or bouncing, we should be fine. One thing I learnt is that Meg is jealous. We made the mistake of stroking the cat, and Meg in her crate was very angry and started to bark. I can stroke the cat, but I need to engage Meg first, tell her that I am going to stroke her cat—somehow let her be involved. I don’t know why this makes a difference, but if I talk to Meg throughout the interaction, she seems happy with my stroking or carrying the cat. I try to limit this to a few minutes, and then I go back to Meg and praise her. They cannot become rivals, that would be bad.
April 2026
Unfortunately, the cat now lives outside. Meg and Mandy did cohabit relatively peacefully together, and although they were never alone when unsupervised, they did seem to tolerate each other. However, Mandy decided that my plant pots made better places to poop than her dirt tray. I cannot cope with poop in the house (I was a terrible mother when potty-training my children.) Definitely cannot cope with a dirty cat in the house. We therefore made a safe place in a shed, with a dog-free exit route. Mandy seems happy, and has not returned to her homeless state.
Shame it didn’t work. But that is often how things are with animals. Hope your own plans go well this week. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Meg is in disgrace. We had a couple of workmen in the house and garden, plus her favourite gardener (huge excitement when he arrives) so Meg was super hyper. The birds were loose in the garden, and we discovered that Meg can now open doors unless they are locked. She jumped at the handle, the door flew open. She charged out and leapt on Goose. Horrible moment. I yelled and screamed and shouted all sorts of commands that Meg ignored. Husband hauled her off Goose, and took her inside.
I picked up a terrified Goose, who rubbed her cheek against mine and trembled in my arms. I sat with her on my lap until she stopped trembling, then left her in the hay box for a while to calm down. Poor Goose.
15/11/2025
Meg hardly changes now, so there is much less to write. She’s a lovely companion (mostly) and follows me round the house, sleeping (and farting) in whichever room I am in. Sometimes she dreams and wakes up barking (not at great at night if I am also asleep).
I love how clever she is. One of her annoying habits is barking at dogs that we pass in the car. I try to notice them before her, and I start to talk in a quiet calm voice, hoping to distract her. Yesterday when I did this, Meg listened to my whisper and then barked at the other dog but super-softly, like she knew we needed to whisper. She barked in a whisper! It may have been coincidence, I will let you know if she continues to do this. It would be an improvement.
16/12/2025
Well, to my surprise, Meg seems to have stopped barking at other dogs when we pass them in the car. She does still bark at the occasional one, but perhaps they are particularly dodgy-looking in dog-world. Mostly we pass them without being yelled at from behind.
Meg has been a bit wild this week. I suspect it’s because the wild animals (foxes and deer) are marking/spraying. Even I, with my human nose, can sometimes smell a strong odour de la fox, so I’m sure it’s overpowering for Meg. Not that this is really an excuse for even more disobedience that normal.
We have put up the Christmas decorations, and other than trying to participate when we kneel on the floor to water the tree each day (obviously seen as a time for licking faces) Meg has been very good at ignoring them. She does sometimes carry her chew to a position that is extremely close to the Christmas tree, but as far as I know, she has not touched it. I don’t think I will hang chocolates on it though, that might a too much temptation for her.
We now have use of the field next to the house (the rams are with the ewes). For a few days, this made a very easy walk, as I would walk around the perimeter, and Meg would race the cars on the main road, tearing up and down at great speed. It was definitely racing, not chasing, as she watched and chose which vehicle she was going to race (usually a bus or lorry) and then she gave herself a headstart, beginning to run before they reached the field, charging at full speed along the hedge until the passed her, and then stopping and going back to the ‘start line’ to wait for the next target.
However, the novelty soon wore off. Meg noticed that I did a loop of the field, and she decided this was boring. If we go into the field now, she walks to the middle, and sits, watching me exercise myself, and then she joins me back at the gate to go inside. Not quite the plan. I have to take her to the woods now, otherwise she doesn’t have a walk.
5/1/2026
Meg has become very difficult. Not sure if it’s because she had a lot of restrictions over Christmas due to various visitors, plus the wet weather mean she spent vast amounts of time locked in a room while she dried off after being washed every time she came in from the muddy outside. Or it could be the foxes are still marking ready for mating season. Whatever the reason, Meg has reverted to ‘difficult teenager’ stage. We have lots of stand-offs, and trying to modify her behaviour is just plain hard work.
We walked yesterday across the fields. I am trying to not walk with her on the lead if she pulls, so it took about 15 minutes to cross the farm lane from one field to the other. She is also meant to sit before going through a gate—as a safety feature to give me a few seconds to check for unexpected livestock in the field (plus it’s good manners for her to sit while I unbolt the gates). She absolutely refused to do this. Left her on the wrong side of the gate, and marched across the field away from her, leaving her to frantically try to find a way through the gate. (Actually, she didn’t look frantic at all, more like a bolshy teenager.) Then a man came, and looked very worried that there was a big dog his side of the gate, with the owner halfway across the next field. So had to relent and collect her (the man looked at me like I was mad).
Then when on our own land, I hooked her lead over the post and walked away, returning to tell her to sit before I released her. Took AGES. Eventually she sat, and we continued. I feel frazzled after these stand-offs, and I don’t like her very much. Meg does not appear to be affected even slightly. It feels important, if I have given her a command, that nothing happens until she has obeyed. But it’s not fun, and it makes me want to just give in and have an unruly dog. Hope you have a better week than me. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
Meg’s vocabulary—the words she can understand—is pretty extensive now. She will be lying, apparently asleep, and if I say ‘walk’ or ‘woods’ or ‘going out’ she will leap up and run to the garage, ready to get in the car, worried I might forget her. She also understands the significance of certain actions. I have bad eyesight, but dislike wearing glasses in the house so I only tend to wear glasses if I am going out. If Meg sees me putting on my glasses, she runs to the door, ready to come into the garden (and bark at my poultry).
Meg also understands routines—and has her own ones (which I do not understand). When I sit at the kitchen table with food, Meg goes to the door and asks to be let out. I don’t know why, but it’s convenient as I prefer her to be in the garden when I’m eating. Perhaps she doesn’t like my table manners. Or maybe she knows she will have unsupervised play in the garden because I am occupied. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter what time it is, if I make a coffee mid-morning and sit at the table, Meg goes straight to the door. Very strange.
Meg understands that when she is annoying, I tend to secure her somewhere—either the utility room or her crate. Meg prefers her crate (which is in the kitchen). If she is being too bouncy, and I open the utility room door for a ‘time-out,’ Meg will run into her crate and look at me. The message is clear—‘You can lock me in here, please don’t put me in the utility room!’
11/9/2025
Meg will soon be 2 years old. Husband tells me this is wonderful, as everyone has told him that dogs of 2 years are perfect pets, calm and obedient. I have told Meg. We are expecting big changes in a few days…
Two Years Old
16/9/2025
Well, despite our dreams, Meg did not suddenly become calm and obedient on her 2nd birthday. Online, most of her siblings are now qualified police or army working dogs, leaping from helicopters in enemy territory or chasing criminals. Meg chases cars. And my poultry. Neither are allowed.
I would have said that Meg has never stolen food, but I am now not so sure. I have never seen her steal food, and I will eat near her without her stealing (although I would not leave her alone in a room with a roast chicken nearby). However, I do have a pretty china bowl that I sometimes keep chocolates and sweets in, left on a coffee table, as a welcoming treat to offer visitors. Last week I filled it with mint humbugs. Yesterday I found a wrapper, and a spat-out mint humbug at the top of the stairs. Now, I am not saying it was Meg—my daughter has been staying, and I know for a fact my husband dislikes mint humbugs—but I am suspicious. I am also now wondering whether she has helped herself to other sweets that I have left out. Perhaps I should be more careful.
As I said, Meg still loves to chase cars. Any car that drives up the lane next to the garden, Meg zooms alongside. She gets to quite an impressive speed. I’m not sure if she’s trying to catch it, or if it’s a race. We now have a clear track worn into the lawn, through the trees, with a heap of mud at the far end where she slams on the brakes and skids to a stop before she hits the fence. It’s good exercise for her, and good house-security for us (because everyone sees we have a scary guard dog loose in the garden). I am trying to be positive. Not quite on a par with leaping from helicopters or chasing criminals in terms of usefulness perhaps.
23/9/2025
Mostly nice day with Meg, just pootling round the house. When I pop out—for a run or to the shops—I leave her loose in the house, and so far all has survived. I even left some slippers in the hallway, and they were untouched when I returned. (Slippers were always a favourite thing to grab and run away with and chew to pieces when she was younger.) We are making progress.
There are still things to improve though. Usually we have lovely walks each day in the woods, and Meg’s behaviour is excellent—we even get comments from other dog owners about how obedient she is (little do they know!) She does look obedient in the woods (and only in the woods). For example, this week I saw a man hurriedly putting his dog on the lead, so I assumed his dog was reactive to other dogs. I called Meg to my side, and made her sit, away from the footpath. I didn’t put her on the lead, Meg sat, completely focussed on the stick she was waiting for me to throw while the man and his dog (now barking death-threats at Meg—the dog, not the man) passed us. When they were safely passed, I threw the stick for Meg and we continued our walk. Wonderful, she had no reaction whatsoever to the dog.
Meg pretending she is obedient.
I did the same thing yesterday when we encountered a horse being walked through the woods. I moved off the pathway, told Meg to sit, and we waited while the horse passed. Meg did notice the horse, she glanced at it a couple of times and each time I said ‘Stick!’ and waved the stick in the air, and she refocussed on that and ignored the horse. Marvellous.
But (there had to be a ‘but’ didn’t there!) when Meg is tense, she has a very dangerous habit of leaping unexpectedly for the stick I am holding or picking up, and if I wasn’t wearing tough leather gloves, she would definitely remove a finger. Her jaws are incredibly strong. Several things can make Meg tense. If it’s a windy day (like young children—it was always a challenge teaching infants on stormy days). Or if another dog has approached her and threatened her—she never retaliates, but I notice that afterwards she is extra intense, and will often grab at the stick before it’s thrown.
I am trying to break her of this habit (before I lose a finger) and therefore I try to make her ‘wait’ when I pick up a stick, and I growl at her if she grabs a stick from my hand, and I refuse to throw it. Today this happened, and we had a standoff.
Meg had previously been accosted by a nasty little spaniel (it always seems to be spaniels, and they usually have dopey owners in my experience). This spaniel ran up to Meg, who was carrying a log (of course) and it barked and snarled, right in her face. Meg dropped the log (unfortunately not on the spaniel!) and stood there, looking worried. I called her, threw a stick, we passed unharmed. (The dopey owner just looked worried, shouted ineffectually at her dog but made no attempt to put the vicious beast on a lead.) Anyway, as we walked away, Meg was noticeably tense, and charged with extra energy at sticks, completely fixed on them. Perhaps I should have stopped throwing them, but I thought it would help to get rid of some adrenaline if she charged around for a while. [see PS below.]
Suddenly Meg leaped up, and grabbed the stick in my hand. This is not allowed. I told her ‘No!’ and held on to my end. Meg stood there, trying to pull the stick from my hand, refusing to release it. I realised this had become a new game, a battle of wills, and she is stronger than me. So I let go of the stick, told her to give it, and refused to move. Meg sat down, but held the stick, clearly waiting for me to resume the tug-of-war. I turned away, giving her no attention, not looking at her, not moving. Meg did not put down the stick. We stayed like this for 6 minutes. I timed it. 6 minutes is a very long time to stand still, ignoring your dog, in the middle of the woods. Thankfully no one passed us or they would have thought I was mad. After 6 minutes, Meg very carefully placed the stick on the ground.
I instantly praised her, and threw a different stick for her to chase. When she was safely away, I picked up the stick we had argued over. It is now my stick. I carried it back to the car. We went home. Not entirely sure what I will do with the stick now. (If I’m honest, I do not really want it—but don’t tell Meg!)
In terms of dog training, I have absolutely no idea whether this is what you are supposed to do with strong-minded dogs. I certainly have never seen anyone else having a standoff with their dog in the woods. I guess I will know in a few more years. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
[PS. After speaking to my ‘animal psychology’ friend, I now understand these events a little better. Basically, like a small child, dogs have layers of excitement/tension, which build on each other until the dog (or small child) is unable to listen to even the most basic of instructions. Therefore, after encountering nasty aggressive Spaniel in the woods, I should not have then thrown a stick for Meg ‘to release some tension.’ What I was actually doing was building on her tension, releasing even more adrenaline. Instead, we should have walked calmly for a few minutes, letting all the tension dissipate, resetting back to ‘boring.’]
Ruth came to stay again, Meg was delighted and brought her smelly towels as gifts. She definitely sees Ruth as an ally. When I try to correct her (like stopping her jumping at the door, or chewing a slipper) Meg will rush to Ruth, lean against her, and look at me. It’s like she’s saying, ‘You can’t be cross with me, Ruth is here.’ I do my best to keep Ruth safe by calling Meg away from the stairs and warning Ruth about massive logs being charged at her legs and things, but there is only so much I can do. Hopefully Meg won’t kill her by mistake.
We took Meg to a coffee shop today. We sat outside and tied her to the picnic bench, because in the past when she has been tied up she is slightly more subdued. She understands being tied, and that she cannot get free so she generally doesn’t struggle. It only half worked, as unfortunately Meg was able to jump up to our table and plant big GSD paws next to our coffee cups. Definitely not allowed. I shouted at her, she seemed very pleased with herself. After a while she settled down. She did bark at a passing dog, but only briefly. Plus there were lots of wasps, and she barked at them when she noticed. But mostly it wasn’t too bad, and the wasps were probably more annoying than Meg. I’m not sure it would have been so peaceful if another dog had been in sight, but it was okay for a trial, and nice to have her with us.
3/9/2025
We had a family holiday in Norfolk. I did not, for a second, consider taking Meg with us. She would have been a pain, and ruined the holiday for everyone. It’s a shame, because there is a lot of pleasure in walking across a beach with a happy dog. But she is very difficult to control when on the lead, and strange places invariably involve lots of walking on the lead. Plus, a little excitement goes a long, long, way with Meg. I have learned that Meg is at her best when the routine is unchanging. She seems to enjoy being in kennels (not entirely sure whether kennels enjoy having her!)
Routines and Meg are good. At home, every morning I get up, let her into the garden, prepare her food. She has started to have a sachet of wet food on her dry kibble ( a gift from someone whose dog didn’t like them) and she absolutely loves this! She comes in from the garden, walks to the garage door (where the sachets are stored) sits and waits for me to go in, then follows me, her nose nudging my leg, as I collect a sachet. She sits when we reach the door, follows me back into the kitchen, rushes to her crate and sits, looking angelic. She is fed in her crate, and I only put down the food when she is sitting, so she gets herself ready immediately!
I then make my coffee while she eats. I take my coffee into the sitting room, and Meg follows, sitting at each door until I go through it. She usually has a chew, and she remembers where she last had it, and will rush off to whichever room it was left in, then joins me in the sitting room. She lies on the floor, chewing, while I drink my coffee and read the Bible. When I close the Bible, Meg leaves her chew and comes to sit next to me, leaning against my knees. I then pray (in my head—this whole routine is done in silence). I do not know why she does this, I don’t know if she senses something, or if it’s just what she does so now she always does it. Then we leave the sitting room, and the day begins.
Today, I tried to do gardening with Meg. Not easy. Anything that might be construed as even faintly interesting sends Meg into super-excited mode. I was weeding, throwing the weeds into a wheelbarrow. Meg waited, fixed on my hands, leapt for every weed I threw. A few times she decided to join me on the flowerbed, trampling all the plants. She went off to find a stick, returned with it and attempted to leap over the flowerbed. She almost made it. More plants trampled. Then when grabbing at the weeds in the wheelbarrow, she unbalanced it, and the whole thing fell over, tipping weeds all over the lawn. I gave up at that point, and took her inside. The garden now looks worse than when I started.
5/9/2025
We walked to the pub for lunch, and attempted to take Meg again. She was terrible. Before we had even left the driveway—before we had even left the front doorstep—she heard a car in the lane and started to leap for it, barking. Perhaps we should have dumped her in the kitchen at that point, but we persisted. We walked to the pub with a hugely annoying dog who tried to chase every car that passed us. She was relatively good when we crossed a couple of fields, and very good when we walked through the woods, but at least half the walk is along lanes, and she was awful.
In the pub, she was mostly good. I took a chew, which she ignored, but for most of the time she lay in the corner, watching. No paws on the table this time, although she did bark at one point (for no apparent reason) and made everyone in the pub jump! Mostly, it was not a success. We will try again in 6 months. (I think that in about 5 years’ time, she will be good.) I am ever the optimist, but sometimes it is exhausting.
Hope you have a good day. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
I have had covid (my first time). Not a pleasant experience, and one that I hope to never repeat. I stayed in bed for several days—which is something that I never do. Even when I was feeling better, I stayed in my room until the 10-day-no-longer-contageous deadline, just in case. During this time, Meg was almost constantly my companion.
Meg is not allowed in my bedroom, but she sneaks in sometimes, and if she stays low and quiet, I pretend I have not noticed. For the first few days of illness, we continued this pretence. I would hear the door pushed open, the quiet footsteps of a sneaky dog, then the jolt of the bed as she lay down, leaning against it. It was nice. I woke and slept to the sound of Meg’s breathing (she breathes very noisily when she’s asleep). I have previously doubted whether Meg likes me much—she seems to prefer the rest of the world (who allow her to do what she wants). However, she definitely chose to be with me this week, even with other people in the house. Perhaps she sensed I was ill. It was nice.
After a couple of days, Meg decided she would join me on the bed. This was definitely crossing a line, and not allowed. She placed two legs on the bed, and reached across to lick me. I told her ‘Down!’ No reaction. I told her ‘No!’ Nothing changed. I reached for my water glass—Meg sighed and jumped down. She tried again, a few times a day. If I reached for the water glass, even if it was empty, then Meg jumped down. I like the modern theory that you train a dog with rewards, not punishment (nor threat of punishment). However, with Meg, I am not sure that it works. No treat is ever enough to deter her actions, but the threat of being wet always stops her. I tend to want an easy life, so the water glass it is.
*
We have almost completely stopped locking Meg in her cage during the day. We have left her unsupervised for several hours, and she has been fine. I therefore assumed that having Meg free all day, even if we are out, is now a thing. Yesterday she ate Husband’s pyjama top.
I am a little unclear as to where she found the top—whether it was waiting to be washed, or stowed neatly with his bedding—but Meg found it and decided it would be a good thing to chew into tatters. As he owns far worse clothes, I am assuming this was not a fashion decision. The sad result is that I no longer trust her for too long unattended, which is a big shame. I was not especially upset by the pyjama top, which is replaceable. A chair cushion would be a different matter.
*
I brushed Meg today, and I realised that this is the first time. Until now, she has been much too bouncy for me to even consider brushing her—much easier to just vacuum the house. However today, as I picked her fur from my sweater, I decided to try and brush her.
I have a variety of dog brushes and combs leftover from when Kia was alive. Kia would allow me to brush her, but only if I let her run like a crazy thing round the garden every few minutes. There was also one brush—with very fine metal teeth—which Kia would not let me use. She ran away when she saw it. I was not sure how Meg would behave.
We went in the garden, I told her to sit and ran the brush along her back, giving her lots of praise. Meg tried to take the brush. Meg heard a car and rushed off to investigate. Meg returned, we repeated the exercise. I collected a brush full of hair. I emptied the brush, and put the fur into the bush, as birds collect it for their nests. Meg jumped up, grabbed the fur, ate it.
I then tried using the metal-toothed brush that Kia hated. Meg didn’t seem to notice. The brush ran along her back, vast amounts of fur billowed out, Meg stretched, enjoying being scratched. She heard a car, and rushed off.
For several minutes we continued—I brushed her, until there was a car—Meg chased the car, then returned for more brushing. She tried to eat all the fur, but I managed to put most of it out of reach. At one point she jumped up, knocking my chin so I nearly bit my tongue (it’s a long time since she has done that). Other than that, the exercise was danger-free and not too stressful. She now looks nice and sleek.
Hoping you managed to brush your hair today. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
