Confessions of a Doberman Dad

First published July 9, 2005

As I mentioned in this column a few weeks ago, I have a Doberman named Brenna, who happens to be the biggest baby of all dogs. Ok, I know what you’re going to say; that your little poodlie-cocka-whatever is the definition of a cute dog, and that the Doberman is big and vicious.

Yeah, right.

True enough, Dobies were originally bred for military use, police work and Disney movies. Their hair is short and their ears are cropped so they won’t get caught in barbed wire while infiltrating enemy lines. Their tails are cropped so they won’t wag them and knock over a lamp while infiltrating the living room.

The Doberman has many advantages over other dogs. They are exactly as tall as your dining table, so they are always in perfect position to snatch your pork chop or knock the mashed potatoes into the lap of your dinner guest. They are strong enough to wedge their noses under your hand and flip your glass of Chablis into the next room.

They have powerful shoulders and hind quarters, giving them speed, agility and the ability to back smoothly up onto your lap when you’re seated in an ordinary arm chair. Dobies lack the back-up “beeper” you hear on most public works vehicles, but I understand scientists are working on this by cross-breeding them with garbage trucks.

The name “Brenna” is Gaelic for “I’m a huge pansy and I have no clue how scary I look.” She “grins” when she greets people, baring her teeth and shaking her head from side to side. She is not aware that this makes her look a little like the Alien licking his chops over Sigourney Weaver in a tank top.

We adopted Brenna from Doberman Rescue as a two-year-old – which is, along with the Humane Society, the very best way to get a dog of any breed.

The first weekend we had Brenna living with us, a female friend wandered into the kitchen in search of peanut butter, unaware that the house was now protected against just that sort of dangerous intrusion. My friend and my dog met and surprised each other somewhere between the blender and the microwave.

Did you know that many females, both human and canine, have bladder-control problems when they’re surprised?

Not long after what is now known throughout these parts as the Tandem-Tinkle Incident, Brenna surrounded and captured a juvenile duck down by the lake. I was horrified speechless at the sight of the poor little duck, its neck swinging limp as Brenna trotted proudly toward us. Fortunately, my wife had the presence of mind to say, “Brenna! Spit that out,” to which Brenna replied, “Ptui!”

As Brenna and the rest of us watched, the duck hopped up and strolled away without a scratch, doubtless to tell his duck buddies all about his brush with those grinning Jaws of Death.

So there you have it – the Doberman’s terrifying reputation is not really deserved. I have to admit, though, that it’s sometimes kind of fun to have a dog who can take that thirty-year-old guy, standing at the front door wearing a grimy name badge and selling magazine subscriptions to win the Teen Entrepreneurs’ Trip to Europe, and make him reevaluate his career choice.

Copyright © 2005 Michael Ball