This blog feature amusing and heartwarming stories about our late Leonberger dog Bronco, as well as other Leonbergers. It also has a lot of information about the Leonberger breed, the history, care, training, Leonberger organizations, etc. I also wrote a Leonberger book, which I am featuring in the sidebar.
Category: The Adventures of Bronco and Dog Friends
This category is for posts featuring the many crazy and funny stories (100+) that Bronco our Leonberger gave us.
Our Leonberger Bronco (Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle) had an issue with recurring squamous cell carcinoma in his toes requiring surgery. Each time Bronco had toe surgery, he needed to wear a so-called cone of shame to prevent him from licking the site of the amputation. In the beginning, we used a standard hard plastic see-through cone. They are very practical and work well, but they don’t seem comfortable. Then we tried a Comfy Cone and a pillow cone. A Comfy Cone is shaped like a standard cone of shame, but it’s made of a soft material that’s comfortable to lean your head on. A pillow cone is an inflatable ring-shaped pillow that you put around a dog’s neck. In terms of comfort, this was probably the best solution. But in Bronco’s case, it wasn’t practical. He was just too big, and he could reach around even the largest size available. For him the best solution was the Comfy Cone.
The Comfy Cone came in the extra-large size that Bronco needed. However, the large size of the cone came with its own issues. As Bronco walked around the house his very large Comfy Cone was swinging back and forth knocking things over. Another problem was that the big swinging cone scared the living day lights out of our mini-Australian Shepherd. To him Bronco probably looked like a Dilophosaurus or Triceratops with a giant frill. However, they loved each other. See Rollo lick Bronco’s face in the picture below.
When Bronco wore his Comfy Cone, he sometimes accidentally cleared the coffee table as he walked by.
Bronco was getting old, and he was having issues with his toes, and I believe that is why he also became a bit clingy. He often followed me around the house, and he did not want to be alone. When I went to the bathroom, I closed the door on him, and he waited for me outside the bathroom. I took the photo below after opening the bathroom door and he just barged in, cone and all.
Bronco barging into the bathroom with cone and all after I opened the bathroom door.Our mini-Australian Shepherd licking Bronco’s face. They loved each other.
Finally, in this post I also would like to highlight the Dawn of Humanity series written by Jacqui Murray. This captivating series is about the adventures of a group of pre-historic humans who live 1.8 million years. The books also include a pre-historic canine called Ump. He is affectionate, loyal, brave, and big, just like our Bronco was, which was another endearing aspect of these books. I highly recommend this series. Below I am posting some information about the series.
The coyote (Canis latrans) is a close relative of the wolf (Canis lupus) and the dog (Canis lupus familiaris). Coyotes live in every US state except Hawaii. It is estimated that there are between one million and ten million coyotes. Coyotes kill a lot of cats and dogs as well as livestock including 135,000 sheep per year (see this link). A lot of coyotes roam the neighborhoods in Dallas. I see them all the time and I’ve had close encounters with them while walking the dogs. Recently a two-year-old in Dallas was injured by a coyote attack (see the video below).
This means that dog owners need to pay attention to the coyotes. Don’t leave small dogs and cats outside if you don’t have a fence that coyotes cannot get through. When walking small dogs, you may want to bring maze or bear spray with you. I admit, I don’t, but it is an option worth thinking about.
Photo of a coyote taken on our younger son’s class trip to YellowstoneIf you want to see wildlife photos from the Yellowstone/Grand Teton class trip click on the image. I was there too. It is a website that I created a long time ago. The trip was led by the math teacher (Frank Jordan).
This informational video was created by a local news organization after the coyote attack on the two-year-old boy. DFW stands for Dallas Forth Worth.
Below I am including an excerpt from my book about a close coyote encounter while walking the dogs.
Our neighborhood is generously populated with coyotes as well as rabbits. Bronco (our Leonberger) used to bark at them, so they never got close to us. I assume they were afraid of him, but they certainly weren’t afraid of Daisy (Pug) or Ryu (Japanese Chin).
One day I saw a coyote coming around the corner at the end of our street as I was walking Daisy and Ryu. He saw us and proceeded straight toward us without hesitation and with no sign of fear. He wasn’t running, but coyotes have long legs, and he was sort of trotting along and moving pretty fast. I wasn’t worried for myself—an adult human can easily handle a lone coyote. I was worried for Daisy and Ryu. I didn’t want them to be the coyote’s dinner.
As the coyote came closer, I stopped and stared at him. When he was around fifteen feet away, he stopped and stared back at me. Ryu and Daisy were staring at the coyote, too. I could see that they were frightened, but they didn’t bark.
Meanwhile, I was calculating how best I could fight the animal. It wasn’t practical to lift both dogs in my arms and try to fight at the same time. So I had to let the dogs stay on the ground.
Before I could strategize further, though, the coyote continued on his way and disappeared behind some houses farther down the road.
Coyotes are pretty common almost everywhere in the United States, so if you need another reason to avoid letting your cats and small dogs run loose, remind yourself of this story.
I don’t think there are any pet strollers that could accommodate a grown Leonberger, but there are certainly pet strollers that accommodate pugs and mini-Australian shepherds. We bought a stroller, for our old pug Daisy. She’s got arthritis and in addition she easily get tired. Our mini-Australian shepherd Rollo frequently wants to sit in the stroller too but not because he is tired, its because he heard a strange sound and feels safer in the stroller.
Left: Wolf who is not sitting in a stroller. Right: Rollo sitting in Daisy’s stroller.
This morning our stroller broke. The front wheel suddenly caved, and the stroller took a nosedive with Daisy in it. Daisy slid from the back of the stroller to the front but luckily, she did not fall out. She was fine. Rollo, who was watching the misadventure, was not fine. Seeing the stroller capsizing with Daisy in it really scared him and he let out a scream, eeeeek!
Daisy in her stroller at a time when the stroller was in better shape
I left the broken stroller on the sidewalk and walked home with the dogs, carrying Daisy part of the way. After I dropped off the dogs, I took my car and returned to where I left the stroller to pick it up. However, it was gone. Who would steal a broken stroller? I had been gone for maybe 15 minutes. I had also left a bag of dog feces in the stroller basket. I always pick up after my dogs. So, I don’t think the stroller thief got a good deal.
Daisy and Rollo both like to sit in the stroller, but the stroller is really for Daisy.
Our Labrador Baylor was a stealthy, opportunist and quick food thief. Food tended to disappear around him as if it never was there. Our German Shepherd on the other hand never stole food and took it upon herself to guard the entrance to the kitchen to the chagrin of Baylor. If she could have spoken, she would have said “you shall not pass”.
Baylor and Baby
Our Leonberger Bronco was our biggest dog, and he could eat a lot. Once we had prepared a big plate with five pounds of roast beef for a dinner party. Bronco finished those five pounds of roast beef with astonishing speed. I saw him do it, but I was not quick enough to stop him. Luckily, he thoughtfully left us the carrots, the broccoli and the dip, so the guests had something to eat. All our dogs were, and are, great dogs, but many dogs have this vice, food theft. I should say that Bronco often willingly shared his loot with other dogs. He was not selfish. Below I am including a few excerpts from my book concerning food theft.
Labrador food theft stories
Photo of our Labrador Baylor
In addition to his hatred for mailmen, Baylor had one more vice, and that was stealing food. He was always hungry, and he was pretty good at culinary theft. On one occasion, I was standing in the kitchen holding a sandwich in my hand. Suddenly the sandwich disappeared from my fingers as if it had been teleported. I didn’t feel a thing—no pull, no touch, no wet nose. It just vanished. I turned around, and behind me stood Baylor, swallowing something. He looked at me, wagging his tail. Was he innocent? Did Captain Kirk beam my sandwich to another dimension? How could I be mad at him when I didn’t have proof?
On another occasion, Baylor jumped up on top of the kitchen table using a chair as a step stool and cleared it of the desserts that Claudia’s grandmother had brought for the kids and the family. That’s how I learned that she had a swear-word vocabulary—and that it was substantial. Fortunately, the kids weren’t nearby. On yet another occasion, Baylor emptied a tray of baklava that had been sitting on the kitchen counter.
His most notable food raid was probably when he stole the Thanksgiving turkey and ran off with it. We salvaged most of it, but knowing that Baylor had been all over it, we decided not to eat what he left us. It wasn’t very appetizing.
Leonberger food theft stories
Our Leonberger Bronco is ready for dinner
I believe dogs have empathy, and sometimes they want to share, at least Bronco did. There was a time when we were in our home eating take-out food and Bronco stole one of our dinners, including meat, vegetables, and a baked potato. He started eating the meat, then he glanced at Daisy, who was sitting in the middle of the floor looking sad. Immediately he took the baked potato in his mouth and carried it over to her and dropped it right at her feet. I was going to get mad at him for stealing, but when I saw his kindhearted and unselfish act, I let it be.
On another occasion, Rachel made a gingerbread house and left it on the kitchen counter. I had forgotten to lock the kitchen gate, and the photograph above shows what greeted me when I got home. Guess who ate half the gingerbread house. I should say that Bronco shared some with Daisy. He was always very generous.
Bronco and our Pug Daisy sharing a gingerbread house
On yet another occasion, Bronco got hold of a box of chocolates in the shape of small gnomes. Each gnome was filled with liquor—some with gin, some with vodka, some with whiskey, and some with rum. It was a gift from Rachel, who had just come back from a visit to China. She had bought the present for us at the airport in Hong Kong. But Bronco ate the entire thing—tinfoil wrappers, chocolate, liquor, and all. We were afraid he might get very sick, and we carefully monitored him, ready to rush him to the emergency clinic if necessary. Fortunately, nothing happened, except he threw up a little bit of tinfoil. I guess he had a stomach of steel.
So, for this Thanksgiving watch your dogs so they don’t run off with your Turkey
October 2019 was a dark time for us and especially for our Leonberger Bronco. At the beginning of October, he had to amputate a toe due to a type of cancer called squamous cell carcinoma, then he developed large ulcerous sores that would not heal, perhaps related to the surgery. Then on October 20 an EF3 Tornado ravaged our neighborhood. Our chimney was smashed, our roof was damaged, and we needed a new roof, a new fence, garage door, wiring in the attic and a new grill and outdoor furniture. However, compared to many of our neighbors we were lucky. As you can see below our neighbor was not as lucky.
The damage to my neighbor’s house after the tornado of October 2019 was devastating. Her roof lay across the street.
We had no power for almost a week and due to the rubble it was very difficult to leave the house. We had no internet, no air conditioning, and it was hot. Perhaps because of this situation Bronco had a heart failure a week after the tornado, and it was bad. We thought that was the end of our 12-year-old Leonberger. However, as you will see in the extract below from my book, Bronco recovered miraculously. He still had eight more wonderful months to give us.
Bronco, who was not at his best in this picture, rests next to our tornado damaged fence. We put a plastic bag around his bandage when he went outside.
We don’t know if the heat had anything to do with it, but about a week after the tornado, Bronco developed congestive heart failure.
As a result, he could no longer walk. The veterinary cardiologist at the surgical center told us that Bronco was not in good shape, but we all agreed that we should give him a chance to recover.
We bought Help ’Em Up harnesses for him, but more often we used a smaller sling to help him stand up. We also treated his heart with various medications. Since our veterinarian’s office had been destroyed by the tornado, we took him to the veterinary surgical center (where he had his toe amputated) for bandage changes. After a few visits, the technicians suggested that we do it at home to save time and money. More important, it would be easier on Bronco. So they gave us instructions, and we started doing it at home.
But changing Bronco’s bandages wasn’t as easy as just rolling out some gauze and tape. First we had to clean the sores with chlorhexidine, an antiseptic solution. Then we had to apply a healing ointment, such as manuka honey or QuickDerm. This involved spreading it on an Adaptic pad (breathable and nonstick), then wrapping the pad with a Telfa pad (or gauze pad). After that came the soft bandage, then the outer bandage, then something sticky to hold it all together. The latter was necessary because bandages easily slip off dog hair.
I did most of the bandage changes, but Claudia and the children helped, and even Rollo, (our Australian Shepherd), helped. He was very curious: he stood by and watched everything I did as if he were checking to see that I didn’t forget anything. He loved Bronco’s bandage changes and seemed to think that they were very interesting. It was never a problem—except for the time he drank the chlorhexidine.
Rollo helps change one of Bronco’s bandages.
We called our veterinarian’s office, and the technicians told us that the chlorhexidine was probably not harmful to Rollo. Chlorhexidine is a type of salt, and unless it’s ingested in large quantities, it’s nontoxic—unlike peroxide.
During this period, we gave Bronco a lot of attention. We slept next to him at night and petted him a lot. He needed help to get up, and we were ready to do that at any time. Sometimes he just wanted to walk around. Sometimes he wanted water, and sometimes he wanted to go out in the backyard to pee or just lie in the grass.
In the beginning it was Claudia who did most of the caretaking. But I took early retirement in November, and I started taking over the night duty. Bronco came to expect constant company, which was okay with us, even though at times it was very tiring. For example, if I was petting him and stopped doing so, he would whine or bark and essentially order me to continue.
At the same time, taking care of him was an amazing experience for me. Bronco usually slept on his dog bed next to the sofa, and I slept on the sofa next to him. When he wanted something, he sat up and looked at me. He did not make a sound. I would wake up, probably because I could feel him staring at me. I would open my eyes, and there would be Bronco’s big beautiful face looking down at me, his gentle expression asking for help. I would get up and help him with whatever he needed.
Bronco was able to communicate what he wanted just by looking at me. It felt like I could understand what he was thinking and feeling even though he couldn’t speak. It almost felt as if he were becoming an extension of me, or maybe the other way around, I was becoming an extension of him. We were two very close buddies who understood each other. They say that a dog is man’s best friend, but for us it was not just a cute cliché. We were best friends.
The veterinarians advised us not to take Bronco out for walks until he was in better condition. But one day he lay at the front door, scratching it and whining. I could clearly see that he wanted to go out. So I took him on a very slow walk. We walked, then he rested; he sniffed his surroundings, and I brought water for him to drink. Along the way we met a woman who looked him and said, “What a beautiful dog.” You can see in the photo below, taken during that walk, that he was old and tired, but he was still beautiful.
You can see how happy Bronco was to be outside, even as his health was not the best.
This warmed my heart. The woman asked what kind of dog he was, and she appeared to be really interested and impressed. It was the first time Bronco had been out walking in perhaps a month, and after all we’d been through, I have to admit I needed the experience, and Bronco did, too. After that, we started taking short walks every now and then, and when we were finished, Claudia would pick us up in the car.
After a while, Bronco was able to get around on his own and even go to the bathroom on his own, and his sore got closer to healing. In fact, he recovered almost miraculously. We were extremely happy about this, and it made everyone’s lives easier.
We had been planning a big family vacation for several months, which Claudia and I had considered canceling. It was a one-week cruise along the Mississippi River, and it was scheduled for December of 2019. Because of Bronco’s improvement, we decided to go. But we had learned our lesson: while we were gone, a friend of ours lived in our house and watched our dogs. We showed her how to change Bronco’s bandage, and that arrangement worked out well.
Bronco had a tough October followed by a difficult but successful recovery. Taking into account his other health scares, including heatstroke and the freak accident with the metal rod when he was young, our veterinarian told us that Bronco must have nine lives, like a cat.
Our Leonberger Bronco (Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle) barked at mailmen but he did not hate them. He got along well with them when he met them. His sibling Baylor the Labrador was a different story. Even though Baylor was a friendly and sweet dog he was not friendly towards mailmen. Baylor stood in the window, he saw the mailman come, mess with our mailbox, and as Baylor barked frenetically, the mailman fled in his white squarish looking get a way car with blue letters. It happened every day! Baylor might have thought that he saved our lives every day.
Close up photo of Baylor our Labrador
I have an interesting fun fact about one of the prominent characters in the Leonberger community, Robert Beutelspacher. He was the Zuchtbuchführer (breed registrar) and later President of the DCLH (Deutsche Club für Leonberger Hunde), and was the one got the meticulous recording of Leonbergers started. Robert Beutelspacher was also a mailman and he had to deal with attacking dogs in his line of work. Hopefully no Leonbergers. He helped advertise a spray that harmlessly deterred attacking dogs, a pioneering product.
Baylor (Labrador, or Labrador mix) and Baby (German Shepherd).Bronco, three months old at the time the photo above was taken. He wouldn’t sit still with Baylor and Baby, so he got his own photo.
Below is a snippet from my book. Baylor went after a mailman, and it could have ended in disaster.
Well . . . Baylor wasn’t always friendly. There was one exception to his affability: the mailman, his only enemy. Baylor must have considered the daily act of putting mail in our mailbox a sign of aggression. Every time the mailman came, Baylor barked loudly and threateningly. Perhaps he thought he was saving us from grave potential danger.
One day while the mailman’s truck was stopped in front of our mailbox, I opened the front door—I don’t remember why. Like a bolt out of the blue, Baylor ran through the opening and charged the truck. I did not expect this to happen at all. The window of the truck was open, and, to my astonishment, Baylor jumped inside. I expected certain disaster to unfold before my eyes—injuries, expensive lawsuits, prison: maybe we would be banned from receiving mail ever again. This time it wasn’t the pit-bull-owning woman who was ashamed: it was I. (note: this is referring to another unrelated incident when we were attacked by an unleashed dog).
In a panic, I dashed toward the truck. But just as fast as he had jumped into it, Baylor jumped back out. He looked confused. He slowly walked back toward me, completely calm, and I realized that there was no one in the truck. Then I saw the mailman standing at my next-door neighbor’s house ringing the doorbell. Baylor hadn’t noticed him, and he hadn’t noticed Baylor. I quickly and carefully approached Baylor, grabbed his collar, and took him inside. No one but I had seen what had happened. No one but I knew how close we were to disaster.
I learned a lesson that day that I will never forget. I also developed an immense respect for letter carriers and the sacrifice they make every day to bring us mail.
Yesterday was Daisy’s 14th birthday. We did not get around to celebrating it until today. Without our Leonberger Bronco it might never have come to pass. That’s because he saved her life from an attacking unleashed German Shepherd a few years ago. Bronco got in between him and his little sister Daisy. In the process he got bit in the leg where he had just had surgery, but he saved her life, and here we are.
It is Daisy’s 14th birthday. Look at her princess crown.Daisy and Rollo (mini-Australian Shepherd). It is Daisy’s 14th birthday.Daisy and Rollo. It is Daisy’s 14th birthday.Daisy’s 10th birthday, four years ago. Bronco our Leonberger is celebrating with her. This was before we had Rollo.
Below is a snippet from the book that is about Daisy. I should add that at the time we did not have Rollo, but we had another small dog, Ryu, a Japanese Chin who loved both Bronco and Daisy.
All our children were allowed to choose a dog when they were growing up—but only when they were old enough to understand that it’s a big responsibility. Jacob picked Bronco, Rachel picked Ryu, and David, our middle child, picked Daisy, a pug. However, our dogs were never just birthday presents. We made sure everyone understood that getting a dog is a years-long commitment that cannot be reversed. We needed to make sure we could give each dog a good life before we would consider making this commitment.
For Daisy, it’s tongue-out Tuesday every day.
Daisy arrived the year after we got Ryu. Like Ryu, she was purchased at Petland (not good, see book). Daisy is now thirteen years old and in good health at the time of this writing. She’s an easygoing, funny dog with an unusually long tongue, and everyone loves her, dogs as well as people. When it comes to being liked, she doesn’t have to try—she’s a natural. Ryu and Daisy would become best friends, but they also got along well with our other dogs. Daisy loved to follow Ryu around, and together they often trailed Bronco wherever he went. Pugs are not very energetic or fast, but they have easygoing and cheerful personalities. When the other dogs were being annoying, she liked to hide under chairs and tables to avoid getting involved.
Daisy is a bit of couch potato—a very sweet couch potato. She sits on the sofa most of the day, watching TV or looking out the window. She barks at dogs on TV or passersby outside, but other than that she doesn’t move much. She likes to snuggle, sit in your lap, and sleep with her head resting on your leg or arm. What with our beds, the dog beds, the sofas, and our backyard, she sure has a lot of places to relax. The only thing missing is her glass of wine.
Daisy rests after an exhausting day on the bed and sofa, not quite finished doing nothing.
Ryu used to get jealous when other dogs gave Daisy attention, or so it seemed. For example, he would become hostile to any dog in the dog park who began playing with Daisy. What can I say? She’s Miss Congeniality.
Daisy is the only dog I’ve met who really enjoys sunbathing. Our backyard isn’t exactly Playa Grande, but she frequently goes outside and lies down on her back. While our other dogs easily get too hot outside, she just soaks up the sun.
When it’s hot outside, Daisy loves to sunbathe.When it’s cold, she sits in front of the heating vents.
Other than following Ryu out on an adventure a couple of times and running out to say hello to Lily, a pug mix who used to live across the street, Daisy will not wander off. On the few occasions she did, we just called her back. She likes being home; she likes the couch and the safety of our house. And while our other dogs sometimes ignored our commands, Daisy never does. Another thing that’s different about her is that she doesn’t like cheese.
Ryu, too, loved the security of the house. In fact every time we made preparations to travel, he and Daisy seemed to sense it. As soon as we so much as took out our suitcases, they knew what was going on. You could see it in their faces and in the way they behaved. They were a bit sad.
One time, as we were packing our bags, we turned around and saw the scene I captured in the photo on below. How would you interpret this? Was it a protest? Did they want to come with us? Maybe both.
Ryu and Daisy didn’t want us to leave for our trip.
In what may have been a sign of anxiety during our absence, we once came home from a brief family outing and Daisy greeted us at the front door with a tissue box over her head. While we had been gone, she had somehow gotten her head stuck in it and couldn’t get it off. She was still running around barking. We laughed because it was such a funny sight, but she probably didn’t enjoy the experience. We removed it quickly.
Does dog humor exist? Well, this article featuring Leonbergers claim that it likely does. Dogs think it is funny to be a bit mischievous and they special sounds while doing it. You can call it dog laughter. Well, if that is the case, then our Leonberger Bronco laughed on several occasions, for example the time he escaped the leash and had me chasing him around the neighborhood (see story below).
Regarding dog laughter, I am also wondering about Rollo, our mini-Australian Shepherd. He loves lying on his back and getting a belly rub. While you are doing it, he is kicking all four of his legs while turning his head back and forth with his mouth open. It looks like he is laughing, like a giggling baby getting tickled.
A couple of times, Bronco took advantage of the fact that the snap hook on his leash would come loose and detach from his collar. One day this became a big problem. Bronco ran off, and I chased him—across the street, across people’s lawns, across the street again, and back over neighboring lawns. When he ran in circles, I ran in circles right behind him, yelling at him. He would stop and wait for me, and then as soon as I got close, he would start running again. I even jumped to catch him a few times. But he dashed off both times, and I just landed flat on my belly.
Bronco had a lot of fun doing this. I imagined him laughing at me, and I got angry. Dogs can’t laugh, of course, but his tail was wagging in excitement, and it was obviously a game to him—a dangerous game.
Bronco as a teenager young and gangly.
So, I asked him, “Do you want to be lost? Bad things happen to dogs who get lost.” I don’t know how much of that he understood, but I had to tell him the truth. Then I turned around and started walking home. I figured I’d never catch him, so it was better for me to go back and get help. (It was 2008, and I didn’t have a cell phone.) Naturally, I worried that Bronco would get hit by a car. I was also worried about the damage an energetic 130-pound adolescent dog could do to the neighborhood.
As I stomped off, I turned around to look at Bronco. He stood still, around a hundred yards away, staring back at me. He seemed confused. I continued walking. After a while, I heard the soft slapping of big paws on the road behind me, accompanied by some distinctly noisy breathing. Then I saw Bronco walking next to me, so I carefully snapped the leash back onto his collar. He let me do it without protest. He was finished playing games. We walked home calmly, and the next day I bought a new and better leash.
Today it is Rollo’s 4th birthday. Our late Leonberger Bronco welcomed him into our family when Rollo was just a 9-week-old puppy. Rollo is a mini-Australian Shepherd. They became very good friends and Bronco was very patient with the rambunctious puppy who climbed all over him and played with his tail, even hung in it. Well, we no longer have Bronco, but we have Rollo and his 14-year-old pug sister.
Rollo did not like the hat, so he took it off right away.Rollo and Daisy. It is Rollo’s 4th birthday.Rollo’s 4th birthday.Bronco our Leonberger welcoming Rollo to our house.When Rollo was just a puppy.Another photo from when Rollo was just a puppy.Rollo playing with a ball.
Next, I am including a little snippet from the book. This snippet is about Rollo.
Rollo often pushed his luck with Bronco—climbing all over him, sitting on him, and stealing his possessions. Bronco was very patient and protective of little Rollo, but we were afraid he would lose patience with him one day when we were not present. Therefore, we put Rollo in a playpen whenever we left the house.
Rollo often played with our Leonberger Bronco’s tail. When he was a puppy he even hung and swung in it. Naturally, we stopped it as soon as we saw it.
The playpen had a door that swung open and could be locked. Soon he learned to go through the door on his own when we asked him to. We would say, “Rollo, playpen,” and he would march right in. We made sure that the playpen contained water and toys and that the door was locked behind him. Of course, we didn’t leave him there too long. Experts recommend a maximum of two hours when the puppy is two months old and a maximum of three hours when the puppy is three months old. Even when Rollo was older than that, we never left him in the playpen longer than four hours.
Rollo’s relationship with his playpen was interesting. When Daisy tried to walk in, Rollo would get angry. The playpen was Rollo’s, and no one else could enter. It was his little house within a house. Sometimes he would walk in even if we didn’t ask him to, and he would just sit there for a while, as if he needed some alone time.
This is the baby jail. When Rollo was in his playpen, we were sure he would be safe in case Bronco decided he had had enough of his younger sibling’s antics. To read more about Rollo click on the photo.
Our son David’s girlfriend, Meranda, came up with a great name for Rollo’s playpen: baby jail. So that’s what we called it, and Rollo seemed to like it. When we told Rollo, “Rollo, baby jail,” he would march right in, just as he did when we called it a playpen. Even though he didn’t seem to mind it, he was always eager to come back out when we got home. He would stand on his hind legs, jump up and down, and bark. Then we would rush to greet him and lift him out of his baby jail.
Bronco gave us many funny stories and great memories. The book I wrote “The Life and Times of Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle” feature several dozen stories. I’ve told a few of the stories here in my blog, but my recent visitors have not seen the early ones. Instead of telling too many stories from the book I’ve decided to rerun of the earlier stories including this one. It also an improvement because I am including images that were used in the book. In the first telling of this story back in March, I used an unfinished image. Anyway, this story is about our Leonberger Bronco finding run-away hamsters.
Bronco’s friendly face
Back when Bronco was young, the kids had pet hamsters—Moldova and Montenegro. The hamsters escaped from their cages sometimes, but Bronco usually helped us find them whenever they did. Claudia would tell him, “Bronco, find the hamsters,” and he would go around the house sniffing until he found them. One time he found them in the linen closet; another time he found them on a shelf in the living room.
On one occasion, a friend of David trusted us with his two hamsters while he and his family went on vacation. A couple of days later, Claudia noticed that the two hamsters were missing from their cage. The next thing she noticed was that Bronco’s cheeks looked puffy, so she said, “Bronco, drop it!” Out came the two hamsters, both unconscious.
Bronco’s puffy cheeks. Are there hamsters in there? Illustration by Naomi Rosenblatt.
In a panic, Claudia started performing CPR on the unconscious hamsters. She put one hamster at a time in her hand and gently compressed each tiny chest using the finger of the other hand. Fortunately, one hamster revived right away. The CPR didn’t seem to be working on the other hamster, but Claudia put both of them back in their cage, and soon the second hamster also woke up. We decided to keep the incident to ourselves. Hamsters don’t squeal.
Claudia performing CPR on Hamster. They came back alive. Illustration by Naomi Rosenblatt.
The question is, Did Bronco try to eat the hamsters? Or did he simply find them and pick them up, intending to alert us to their presence? I’ve asked several people this question, including some who know Leonbergers well. The answer they give is that he tried to save them from whatever danger he thought they might have been in. If he wanted to eat them, they say, he would have tried chewing them. But clearly, he didn’t.
The hamsters may have felt differently about the situation and may have fainted from the shock. Who knows? Bronco was a hero on many occasions, but this time, perhaps, he was a hamster superhero.
Eventually our own hamsters died, but that didn’t end Bronco’s interest in them. When the first hamster died, we held a funeral. We put the hamster in a shoe box, said goodbye, put some flowers in the box, and buried it in the backyard underneath some bushes. But when we turned our backs, Bronco was there, digging under the bushes. Perhaps he thought he could save the hamster. So, we called Bronco off and tried again: this time I dug a deeper hole and put a wide rock over the shoe box before covering it. Now Bronco couldn’t dig up the hamster. When the second hamster died, I had learned my lesson and did the same thing.
Leonberger Life 