Looking back, I understand her decision much better now, but at the time, I resented her for it. At least we found a compromise: I was allowed to take care of dogs during their owners’ vacations, under the strict condition that I would be 100% responsible for them. So, we regularly looked after dogs, and even as a child, I considered myself a true expert (or at least I thought so). When we didn’t have a guest dog at home, I would take the neighborhood dogs for walks.
That time taught me so much about dogs.
The mother of my best school friend bred Basset Hounds, and I was allowed to be there for every litter and every stage of raising them. I spent every free minute at their house. Later, they also started breeding Bloodhounds—so basically, long-eared dogs with an incredible sense of smell. That’s when my fascination with canine noses truly began, a fascination that still amazes me to this day. I am convinced that we have only scratched the surface of understanding what a dog’s nose is truly capable of.
And then there was Jeff—a Golden Retriever we regularly looked after. He had a habit of destroying half our furniture whenever we left him alone. At the time, I had no idea that separation anxiety was even a behaviour of dogs. I just couldn’t understand why he chewed up all the couch cushions and tore apart everything else in sight when we weren’t home.
Then there was the funny little Beagle. His owner gave me strict instructions never to let him off the leash. But of course, little Mümmeli (as I was called back then) thought, “Oh, come on, I know dogs! He’ll come back when I call him.” Four hours later, he did—eventually. When I got home, my mom casually remarked that it had been an awfully long walk. When Beagle-boy was still panting heavily an hour later, she started questioning what had happened. That was when I sheepishly admitted that I had, in fact, let him off the leash. That moment taught me a very important lesson: some dogs are hunters, and they don’t always take recall commands too seriously.
And then there was Boris—the funniest, most stubborn Wirehaired Dachshund ever, who stayed with us over Christmas. Naturally, I wanted to give Boris a present, so I carefully wrapped a Cervelat sausage and placed it under the Christmas tree among the other gifts. Since Boris wasn’t familiar with human traditions, he didn’t realize that presents were supposed to be opened after dinner. So, in the middle of the afternoon, he helped himself. My grandmother found him under the tree, attempting to retrieve the sausage from the wrapping paper. She tried to explain to sweet little Boris that presents were for later and attempted to take it from him. And just like so many times in history, the classic Dachshund-versus-food scenario played out once again—my dear grandma ended up with a bitten hand. Boris gave me my first lesson in resource guarding.
Beyond my dog-sitting business, I knew every single dog in the village and was allowed to walk several of them. But my greatest teacher was Asta, a German Shepherd. I was always accompanied by her owner and learned an incredible amount from her. Asta was—true to her breed—perfectly trained and, to be honest, very easy for me to handle.
Of course, I could go on with many more stories. The Golden Retriever eventually stopped coming because it became too expensive. Boris passed away not long after. The Beagle stopped visiting too, because my parents had a falling out with his owners (and I swear, I had nothing to do with it!). But I never stopped walking dogs, and to this day, I cherish every minute spent with our four-legged friends.
