America’s sweetheart.

Baby dog Izzy was a total menace to society as a puppy. 

It was something most parents and probably most dog owners go through -- the kid is acting like a lunatic and seems bent on growing up to be a psychopath. He won't listen, or he just doesn't care. You wonder what it's going to take to get through to the little crazy person. Sometimes they never grow out of it -- you can only hope that they become sane enough to focus their insanity toward useful goals, like professional demolition, MMA fighting, or terrorist elimination. 

But most of the time, a change will come over the little beast, and you have something more normal, something less feral, something that responds to kindly instruction and doesn't go berserk at the slightest thing. 

We had our doubts about Izzy. Very strong doubts. 

The Menace at rest

We kept wondering if he was ever going to stop doing exactly the wrong and most destructive thing at every turn. We kept wondering if he was going to remember anything he'd learned for longer than it took to swallow the treat. We kept wondering if he was going to stop biting us. Was going to stop trying to grab food off the table, off the counters, or even off the stove. (He managed to light a stovetop burner once, which requires pushing in and twisting the knob -- childproof knob covers appeared shortly thereafter.) 

Maybe when his baby teeth are out. Maybe after he gets fixed. Maybe after his first birthday. Maybe when he's past pup puberty. Maybe never. My wife loved and loves him so much, yet she got madder at the little jerk on at least two occasions than she had ever gotten mad at previous puppies Nipper and Fazzy. She got madder at this puppy than she'd ever gotten at me, and I'm not joking. 

And then? Suddenly Izzy seemed to connect. It was like a Man's Best Friend switch got thrown, and he was no longer a wild animal that was tolerating confinement. Suddenly he was a sweet and playful dog, and has remained so ever since. He's not only sweeter than our earlier beloved boys; he's the sweetest, most friendly dog either of us has ever known. 

Don't just take my word for it. The lady who sometimes does the mail route pulled over one day, yelling about what a cutie he is, and as he sat politely, she gave him a Milk-Bone. The UPS man pulled over to say hi. The Amazon driver went out of his way to make friends with him. If delivery people are so in love with our dog, that says a lot. 

He's even polite with other dogs. Sure, if it's one he already knows, he'll strain the leash to go say hi. But he doesn't bark. If it's a dog he doesn't know, he'll wait quietly to get a chance to greet. Kids will come running, asking if they can pet him. He loves to meet people.

All this is why I started calling him America's Sweetheart.

We taught him some important commands, of course, but mostly we did our best with patience and love, and now I see that reflected in his behavior. And I guess that's my thought for the day. Patience and love can accomplish things you don't expect, if you're consistent -- even when you give up hope. I sure am glad now that we have this swell little dude. I certainly did not expect to say that thirty months ago.