Tuxedo became a part of our family just a little over a year ago when we found him on the street. My family fostered him at our home for a brief time while "looking for the owners," and quickly decided there was no way we could let him go. We adopted him and began integrating him into the family with patience and consistent training. We believe Tuxedo to have come from an abusive family judging from his initial wariness of men and his dramatic fear of children. We also worked through some severe separation anxiety with him (after he bent his metal crate out of shape like The Hulk), and taught him that it was unacceptable to bust through screen doors on a regular basis. He was completely antisocial with other dogs, but over several months of desensitization the crying, spinning, shaking and lunging fits ceased. He is a giant marshmallow of a dog and loves the cats in the house. He plays regularly with his best buddy, Buck:
Henry seems indifferent to Tuxedo's presence and while Moose would never call himself "friends" with Tux, he will tolerate him with evasive maneuvers. Fidget, however, is almost obsessed with Tuxedo, particularly when he is sleeping. While Tuxedo is a very loving dog, our family has learned this lesson: Let. The. Sleeping. Dog. Lie. For some reason, if Tuxedo is bothered or bumped while in deep sleep, he will wake up startled, barking, growling or even snapping. We think this is a latent fear tactic from his past, as though his previous family may have shaken or scared him awake. He doesn't aim to bite, only to seriously warn. Fidget finds this behavioral pattern fascinating; he will routinely put himself on Death's doorstep just for the chance to push Tux's buttons. We call it "Seek-and-Destroy Fidg." On more than one occasion, I have seen FattyPants army crawl up to the sleeping Tuxedo and quickly prod his tender nose with claws extended. This, of course, sends Tuxedo into a flailing fit of self-defense, to which Fidget's response is to run like hell. FidgHead will also try to drink out of the water bowl simultaneously with a Tuxedo, resulting in quitely shining teeth and a low warning growl. Fidget's response to this? Play stupid. He will sit down and stare at the giant dog with a look of confusion and hurt, as if to say, "What, you don't want to share with me? Wow, that really hurts, Sir." In short, Fidget is a manipulative little fuzzball and Tuxedo is not buying it.
I wonder if Fidget views the Rottie as a daunting challenge--like the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest for cats. Maybe he thinks, "If I could only dominate *that,* the rest of the world would be a piece of cake! Ooh, cake sounds good..."
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