McConnery - My years with a dogman: Through personal recollections & letters

Copyright 2011 Mike McConnery
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1463787006
ISBN-13: 9781463787004

This story, I am certain, will cause much controversy and disruption in the dog world. Nevertheless, it is a true account of a fateful meeting between two individuals who shared a deep love for dogs, the Work, and each other. I think also that the reader will begin to see the dog from a whole different perspective.

Mike McConnery

To my children, in whom my future is certain. May they enjoy this deeper look into how their father learned not only to accept his faults and shortcomings in life, but also to communicate in a deep understanding with a creature unique from all others.

Also, to the three Barneys and four Heidis, Larko, Bear, Chantele, Mugs, Antis, and last but not least, Cody, who had the heart to track when everyone said she did not.

Most of all I dedicate this book to Guenther, a true Dogman, by whose patience I was taught to accept those mysteries of life as the gifts they are meant to be. Through him I learned that with faith the size of a mustard seed, one will experience the best of both the physical and spiritual aspects of life.

Contents

A s the dog is the only creature that bonds with mankind in such a deep and giving manner,
we too are the only creatures upon this earth that bond in such a way with the dog.
From this most unusual kinship flow many truths.

The Meeting

I n the late 1960s, I was going to a party in Niagara-on-the-Lake with some friends. On our way to the place where the party was to be held, I noticed a house with two German Shepherds Dogs on the front lawn. They were beautiful dogs. Little did I know at the time that this place I was passing would later play such a large role in my life.

The year was 1972. I was just married and driving taxi for a living. I was sitting alone, drinking, a habit that had become very much a part of my life. For whatever reason, I thought I should get a dog. Perhaps I thought it would keep me company in my miserable existence. Perhaps it was fate. What came to mind was the house with the dogs from those years past.

I was working afternoons, so I decided to go in the morning to see if they had dogs for sale. I drove out to the house I remembered from the past. Once again the dogs were there, only this time there were four of them. I pulled my old pickup into the driveway and got out. The dogs did not bark. In fact, they seemed to automatically separate and almost flank me. One of them went ahead to the door. The others moved with me, watching me as I walked. When I got to the door, three of the dogs sat behind me as if to block my retreat. The fourth sat to my right as I opened the outside door and used the brass doorknocker to announce my arrival.

Within a minute, a tall, lean, older man with graying blonde hair and the bluest eyes I have ever seen answered the door. This was my first meeting with Guenther. He looked deep into my eyes and simply asked, Yes? I paused and told him I noticed he had dogs, and I was looking for a pup. I asked if he had any.

Did I advertise pups for sale?

No, I answered.

Did I ask you to come here?

No, I again answered.

Then go away!

Then he said something in German to his dogs and slammed the door in my face. The dogs escorted me back to my truck, and the embarrassment I felt soon turned into anger.

All that afternoon and night as I drove, I thought only about this arrogant man and how he had treated me. And I did what I always did; I drank. I drank and decided I would go back in the morning and punch this guy in the nose. Dogs or no dogs, I was going to teach him a lesson. It seemed I was always fighting back then. I was discontent with my life and very willing to take it out on anyone who got in my way.

The next morning I once again drove out to the red brick house with the gardens; once again the dogs met me, and once again they flanked me. Only this time the dog that went to the door barked, first at the door then at me. I noticed that the bark she gave me was a different tone. She seemed to be warning me to stay where I was. Soon the tall lean man came to the door.

You!

I was too far back to hit him, but I was open-mouthed and ready to tell him a thing or two when he abruptly stated, If you want to learn about the dogs, be here in the morning. Before I could say a single word, he once more slammed the door in my face.

Damn, I thought, hes done it again. This time as the dogs escorted me, they seemed to almost want a piece of me. They were crowding me, leaving a pathway open only to my truck. I took the hint and left. To hell with him, I thought. I probably know more about dogs than he does.

Later that afternoon, as I drove in my taxi, I found that I could not get that place, the man, or the dogs off my mind. I would be stupid to return, I thought. The nut would just slam the door again. What, I wondered, did he mean when he asked if I wanted to learn about dogs? Was he offering me a job or was he trying to make a buck off me? No matter what, I was not going back.

I did not sleep much that night, but that was not unusual in those days. Sleep, it seemed, was an elusive ally and when I did find it, it was usually fevered and short. I tossed and turned with thoughts of that place, the man, and his dogs.

Early the next morning I was on my way back to see what punishment awaited me. As I pulled up, the man stood in front of a block building at the end of the driveway. Six German Shepherds Dogs surrounded him. They did not run up to my truck. Instead, they stayed by his side. When I stopped and opened my door, four of them approached me. Again I was outflanked. I was starting to get an uneasy feeling that there was more going on here than met the eye.

I walked up to the fellow escorted by the dogs. When I was about three feet away, the two dogs that had remained by his side moved in front of him and growled at me showing their teeth to back up the threat. I stopped in my tracks. Once again I heard him speak to the dogs in German. And when he did, their mannerisms changed immediately and they relaxed. Now they appeared to be different dogs entirely. They did not approach me in any way. They did not sniff or touch their noses to me. They remained calm, elusive, but very aware of my being there.

Your name? His words were short and direct. It was as if he said only what was necessary and no more.

Mike is my name, I replied. I was cautious and still unsure of what I was doing there.

Do you train dogs? I asked.

I am Guenther, he said, totally ignoring my question. You will not drink when you are here.

I dont drink, I replied.

You should not lie about your weaknesses. You should face them.

What a bastard, I thought.

I do not mean you must not drink only here. You must not drink at all.

Who the hell was this guy?

Now go take three days to think about what I have said.

This guy stunned me.

Then come back and tell me your decision. Now go.

Guenther turned away with his four-legged bodyguards.

I stood alone once again, having been told to leave by a man I was convinced was quite mad. Three days, I thought. More like three years, asshole. That was it; I was out of there. No more for me. Who was this guy?

During the days that followed I was full of questions as to what this was really all about. Why would anyone think they could dictate my life to me? This guy says to stop drinking or I cant come there. Why would I want to go there in the first place? Whats in it for me? What the hell does this guy want from me?