'My Last Dog' Syndrome stunts our perception of our current pets and can exacerbate behavior problems
It's been ten months since my 15 year-old St. Bernard/shepherd mix Gretchen died, and though it sounds clichéd, I can say with complete confidence that she was a delight to everyone that she came into contact with, even those not terribly fond of dogs. Despite coming home with me much earlier than she should have—Gretchen was 5 weeks of age, and in a situation no dog should have been in—she was a joy to unfold from house training and learning cues to understanding what was cool and what wasn't in terms of how she behaved. It was a challenge at times, but what puppyhood-into-adulthood isn't, right? She was a major chewer as her second set of teeth came in and I would get lax about ensuring her chew toys were at her disposal, so I lost a pair of shoes and other things, but lesson learned! She developed a brief penchant for digging, which we got under control easily by working together, but her love of rummaging through any trash can could not be tamed. In the latter c...