A old family friend moved into town not too far from our neighborhood and needed some help with a project. His stuff is moved, but everything is in boxes. The project was modifying a coat closet into a food pantry.
I was in excruciating pain. Although Cimmy wasn’t feeling her best, she decided to take on the project. (She is her father’s daughter and therefore quite handy.) I decided not to go to the ER and tag along. Boy kept crying that he was hungry, so we also scored a little lunch out of the deal.
We needed to get supplies at the Home Depot– plywood, L-bracket shelf supports, and so on. At the entrance we encountered our first service dog, a miniature poodle. Poor thing apparently was not fully trained yet. The nice lady who let Boy pet her service dog said he was putting her (the dog) through her paces as far as her training.
The other was a magnificently moustachioed gentleman with a Doberman Pinscher. I stopped to talk to him a moment as the dog also was wearing a “service dog” vest. He said Dobermans were meant to be with people (according to their breeding, of course) and that they practically trained themselves. I said I still figured I needed a border collie or a Labrador for the sake of Boy, as he tends to wander.
I read more about the breed a moment ago and cringed further. Dobermans need lots of exercise, firm discipline, and indoor space, ideally. We may not have a lot of that. I shall look more into German Shepherds that have failed law enforcement training.