Hannibal the Doberman

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks…and yet here I sit, half asleep, trying to keep a twelve year old doberman from going into my daughter’s bedroom and waking her…he is just not getting it O_o

He’s a rescue that has been on the farm for a year now, but with the cold weather it came time to move him inside.  Truth be told, I’m surprised Hanny is still with us as dobermans don’t usually live long.  His previous owner passed away last year around this time…he would have been put down had we not taken him in.  Some days I regret that decision as it leaves me with no ability to do anything spur of the moment…but whatever…

If nothing else, he’s a good guard dog.  Lets me know immediately after anyone has rung the doorbell and entered the house…I’m sure he’d jump into action after the knife wielding maniac had me stabbed five times.  As such, he just sits on his bed and farts all day…outside of a twenty minute burst of energy when we take him outside and throw the ball until he’s had enough…usually signified by him running to the ball and falling over it.

Guess the dog track is out, eh?

I’m still convinced I’ll come home before New Years, however, and not be able to wake him in his dog run…just a hunch.  When that happens, I’ll miss everything but the flatulence, but it is almost that time.  He doesn’t even want to come down the stairs anymore…doesn’t help that he fell down them the other day, so he’s scared on top of it…

Not like he’s a good one to help with herding the cattle, either.  If anything, he’ll go and fall down beside one of them and ignore calls for him to return.  Maybe the cattle will adopt him and raise him as one of their own.  Maybe he’ll have steak…who knows…but I do wonder what goes on in that lil’ head of his when his leash is all twisted around the pole over top of the water well and he’s looking for me to untie him.

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