Tasha is the fifth in our boxer family tree. First was Cici, then came Dottie and Rocky. We were heartbroken after losing first, Dottie then two years later, our beloved Rocky.

We needed boxers in our lives. The call was answered when we found a little boy brindle from a local breeder. He was precious and we struggled with the name. We knew we wanted a pair, and the names were important. We somehow stumbled upon Boris and Natasha, those fiendish cartoon characters from the Rocky and Bullwinkle show. That would be the next, and probably, final pair of boxers to complete our family.

We had Boris for about 6 months, always planning to find his Natasha

But we disagreed about the source of Natasha. The Fixer wanted to get a female from the breeder we’d bought Boris from, but I wanted to “do the right thing” and get a rescue dog. I knew, with patience, we could find a female fawn boxer that needed a home.

So, we waited, me watching the local boxer rescue group, while he waited for news of a litter with a fawn female.

And then a miracle happened.

There was a family in a nearby town who had a female fawn boxer they needed to re-home. They had busy lives with two preteen kids and a city lot with a pool in the backyard. This little girl had a lot of energy and needed a place to run!

We set up some meet and greets and she seemed like the perfect Natasha for our Boris.

After some adoption hiccups, we finally had our Natasha! She was spirited and fun, and she and Boris played non-stop!

But she had unruly behavior at the gate. She was too aggressive, barking ferociously at neighbors and delivery people.

She was also hyper-fixated on small animals.

I tried to facilitate a calm introduction with our beloved indoor/outdoor cat, Bella. One look at the newcomer with the murderous look in her eyes, and Bella took off. We never saw her again.

We also still had chickens at the time, and we couldn’t seem to get Tasha uninterested in the chickens. She lunged at the fence constantly. A few chickens met their demise when they got out while we were dog-sitting. The pack mentality did its thing and there’s no question who was leading the pack.

A hawk attack brought us down to our last hen and I rehomed her to a place with no dogs. She’s happy in her new home.

Natasha lived up to her femme fatale namesake

I was beginning to realize I’d never have casual contact with our neighbors again with Tasha around. No more admiring neighborhood children’s accomplishments or letting them sell me gift wrap and girl scout cookies. No more casual chats over the fence.

So far, we’d lost our social contact, our cat, and our chickens.

And then the fights started.

I’ll never forget the first one. Boris and Natasha got into a brutal fight. Their jaws locked onto each other and being a dogfight neophyte, I foolishly used my hands to try to pry them apart. I don’t remember how the fight ended, but I had a severe bite on my hand. And it was Boris who bit me! He didn’t mean to, and he’d never hurt me intentionally, but my hand was between him and the enemy.

I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced a dog fight but it’s terrifying. Your adrenaline shoots up and stays up. With my heart racing, I called our rescue contact and asked her what I should do. She didn’t exactly tell me not to go to the emergency room, but she did say if I tell them a dog bit me, they will report it and the dog will be destroyed.

This was just too much. Shaking, crying, and frightened, I eventually calmed down. I didn’t go to the emergency room and nursed my hand back to health.

Over the next few months, the fights continued. We started learning about dog behavior the hard way.

The Fixer and I learned how to safely end a dog fight. (Two people grab the back legs of the dogs and steadily pull them apart. This takes a tremendous amount of strength – thank goodness for that adrenaline! Eventually, they’ll let go of the death grip they have on the other dog, and you immediately put them in separate areas until they calm. Sometimes it takes hours. Once the dogs are safely crated or in separate rooms, you pour yourself a stiff margarita and sit on the porch until you calm down.)

We had to figure something out. We couldn’t keep a dog in the household that would cause these fights. And poor Boris! What had we done to his life?

We found our best resource in our vet. She listened and made suggestions. We put Natasha on an anti-depressant which helped calm her.

We learned to spot fight-triggers such as food aggression.

A behavioral vet was recommended. Tests were run and physical issues were ruled out. A lightbulb went off when the vet talked about “reactive dogs.” This was Natasha. Operating on pure instinct all the time. Never trusting us to manage situations, she was laser-focused on things that move quickly like small animals, runners, and bike riders.

The vet recommended their training facility to get this behavior under control.

I felt a little hope. Even though the facility was expensive and an hour away from my home, I had to try. With the training and the anti-depressant, we could manage her.

We had made a promise that this would be her forever home and I wanted desperately to honor that promise

At her first one-on-one training, my hope dwindled. The trainer didn’t like what she saw, and she would only take on a dog she knew she can rehab.

I tried a few more trainers, without success. The fights had stopped with the anti-depressant, and this made her manageable to a level we were willing to accept. Life with her isn’t all bad.

She has the energy and curiosity of a puppy. She’s funny and loving. She and the Fixer are very bonded. She adores him and does her bucking bronco every day when he comes home! She’s a great playmate for Boris goading him into happy romps around the yard!

Her silly antics keep us laughing as she tries to take a 3-foot stick through the doggie door or flips a dog toy in the air and spins around to catch it and throw it again

My biggest problem with her at this point is the gate. She aggressively runs down the drive growling, barking, and lunging at people. Although we haven’t had a fight in years, she snaps at Boris as they run to the gate. Occasionally these bites are bad enough to need vet care and antibiotics.

Her exuberance when we have visitors nearly caused Boris his right eye!

I really miss my little chats with the neighbors. I miss my cat. I miss my chickens.

I decided it was time to try training again. Since trying to find a trainer didn’t work well, we decided on a shock collar. We did our research to find a quality collar. It had noise and vibrate settings so that you would rarely need to resort to a low shock setting. Seemed just the thing.

And then Natasha almost died

Not from the collar – we hadn’t even put it on her yet.

One day she seemed very puny. Unusual behavior for this super energetic dog! A trip to the vet revealed her kidneys were shutting down. Once again, my most impressive and amazing vet came through. She said it’s rare in dogs, but she thought we should test for Addison’s Disease. Bingo!

Addison’s Disease is a disorder of the adrenal glands that doesn’t allow production of steroids such as cortisol. She was having an Addisonian crisis. Administering IV fluids and the correct steroids saved her life.

The vet said this could explain her behavior. She doesn’t have the right hormone response to moderate situations, so she acts in an aggressive manner to protect herself.

Relieved to have an answer, we brought her home when she stabilized. She would require steroids compounded at a special pharmacy for the rest of her life, but she should live a normal life if the kidney damage wasn’t too severe.

Back home, I couldn’t bring myself to put that shock collar on her.
Eventually, the pendulum swung from the emotions of OMG she nearly died, to complete irritation at her behavior.

So, now I’m ready to start training again

We celebrate her birthday in January and this year she’ll be seven. The family we got her from had gotten her at an animal shelter.

Boxers have a life span of 9-12 years. They’re prone to cancer.

Part of me wants to keep the status quo and ‘manage’ her for the rest of her life.

But the other part of me doesn’t want to give up. She can still be trained. She’s eager and adores us. I think she’d be willing to learn.

But it seems like such a monumental task!

Maybe the right trainer could really help us but how do I find that person?

If I stay in the land of indecision, I’m giving away my power to make things better.

I’ve saved this dog’s life three times.

The first by promising her a forever home, because I believe, she would’ve been put down by now had she gone to other households.

The second was when a copperhead bit her. She stuck that cute, curious nose down into a moving pile of leaves, and by the time I realized what had happened I was racing her to the vet as she faded fast!

And the third is when she got her Addison’s diagnosis.

I know there will come a day when we’ll have to put her down due to illness or old age, but I’m not sure it will be as emotionally wrenching for me when it comes to Tasha.

In the meantime, I owe her as good a life as I can give her. So, I think it’s time to take steps towards finding that special trainer that’s going to help with that goal.

We have good intentions, but we’re not great dog owners

This problem should’ve been corrected years ago, but we’ve dragged our feet.

We weren’t a good fit for a dog like Natasha.

I want to hold onto my belief that adopting dogs is the right thing to do. But the Fixer was right. A puppy from the breeder would have been a better fit for people unwilling or unable to provide the training that a problem dog needs.

Dogs have been a part of human’s lives for eternity and for better or worse, we manipulate that relationship. I wish we lived in a world where humans didn’t cause harm intentionally or unintentionally. But we can offset the harm with generous annual donations to our local no-kill shelters or rescue groups. Wouldn’t it be great if the professionals who dedicate their lives to these animals had the resources to evaluate problem dogs better, counsel prospective owners, and provide needed training? That’s a miracle I’d love to support.

For now, I’m still in search of that trainer who can give us the miracle of a happy conclusion to The Natasha Story.