He was orginally a Christmas present from my papa to my grandma. I never thought they’d get another dog because quite frankly, dogs drive my papa crazy. The whole family almost cried when my grandma got to get the first present of the year- this little fluff ball of fur with a bow around his collar.
The puppy had to stay somewhere until Christmas, so my mom and I kept him at my apartment, which was totally against my apartment’s rules so don’t tell anyone. Anyway, he didn’t have a name at that time, so we all called him Puppy. He slept with me every night he was there. I miss how little he was. He was also very smart; I was already teaching him how to sit at two months old. When it came time for church we had to leave the puppy shut up in my bathroom with some toys, water, and food. We also left the radio on so that he’d think people were still there. I wish we hadn’t done that. When I got back from church to pick him up and take him over to my grandparents, the radio was cranked up really loud and on static. I don’t know how that happened because it was up really high on a shelf, and there was no way he could reach it. The poor little guy was hiding behind/underneath my toilet. I felt so bad. He was scared to pieces.
My grandma loved her present. It wasn’t long before she named him Blitzen. One, because he’s a German Shepherd and Blitzen or Blitz is German for lightening. Two, because he was a Christmas present to my grandma and a reindeer name was only fitting. He has all sorts of nicknames- The Blitzman, Blitz, Blitzer, and my mom calls him Wild Man or Blitzaroonytoons at times. I still call him puppy from time to time. With all these nicknames, I’m just thankful he knows what his name actually his. He’ll look up anytime someone says Blitzen.
My papa really has no patience with him what so ever, so he didn’t get trained properly. He jumps on the couch, jumps on people at the door, and doesn’t stay if he’s over excited. It doesn’t help that my grandparents have different expectations for him. I think he’s crazy sometimes, and I feel bad because they don’t take him out for walks or to the park as often as they should. I go over there to play with him all the time, but I can’t take him for walks because I can’t controll him. I can’t wait for the weather to get better so I can take him to the dog park.
Just because he misbehaves all the time, doesn’t mean he’s not smart. He knows that he shouldn’t be on the furnature. He’ll look around for my papa before jumping up on the couch. And he also knows what it means to sit, stay, heal, and come but he just doesn’t do it. I think he’s just defiant. I love that he can roll over because I’ve never seen a German Shepherd do that before.
Even though he’s so playfully agressive at times, I love him to pieces. I’ll hug him, and all my problems just melt away. It’s true that animals are theaputic. He also understands when someone’s upset. If I’m crying he’ll cuddle up close to me and lick my salty tears off my face. Those must taste pretty good to a dog. He’s also pretty spoiled. I bring him ice cream cones home from work all time. It’s the least I can do after all he’s done for me.
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