He’s beautiful.

He’s got a brindle coat with orange eyes, looking like, as a friend of mine noticed, Halloween come to life.

It’s that sort of gorgeous that captures the eye immediately, and Maslow stopped my sister in her tracks amid scrolling through available rescues during our road trip back to Arkansas from Pennsylvania last summer.

She’s five years younger than me, one of the middle kids in our family of eight siblings, where I claim the spot of second oldest. On April 6, 2018, one of our youngest sisters, Margaret, died from a gunshot wound. She was 20 years old, and the shock and grief rippled through the rest of us. By the summertime, we were still processing, and I, on the east coast working on a farm as a dog trainer, was falling apart.

Grace had moved to Arkansas in the summer of 2016 with her son. His grandparents had moved back a few years before, and they’d invited her to stay with them for a spell.

A few months after Margaret’s death, Grace was approved for a mortgage loan, and it was either bad timing or a blessing because we were all still reeling from grief, but she found her dream home and made her decision. With a house of her own at age 27, the only next logical step was to bring home a dog.

Not just any dog, though.

I haven’t lived with family since I was 18, and I soon learned there was a lot about my younger sister that I just didn’t know. I hadn’t realized she’d started a dog walking service as a teenager until I saw her in a photo holding the leashes of two dogs I had never seen before. And I didn’t know the stories of the dogs she had been forced to give up, not until she shared that with me. Big dogs, with blocky heads.

So she looked at dog after dog available through shelters and websites, looking for the perfect one until she found him.

Maslow, a Cane Corso, came in large, with the blocky head and jowls to match.

I knew very little about Cane Corsos, so as my sister planned to bring him home, I researched the breed and asked my previous coworkers and fellow trainers what they knew. I’d met exactly one — a beautiful gray Corso named Storm who had been adopted. She loved people but didn’t like other dogs, and while her owner had two cats, they had to be kept upstairs because she had a strong prey drive. She was friendly and cuddly, having no issues letting me come into her home. Her behavior was manageable, and she was a sweetheart.

The feedback I received included comments on the highly protective nature of Corsos, with their high prey drive making walks a struggle. They added that Corsos were not good family dogs, due to their size and rough play.

Even with my limited experience with Storm, I’d known for a long time that knowing exactly one example of a breed wasn’t enough to represent the entire breed, and while my sister was already asking when she could take him home after meeting him at a CARE showing, I was taking in the comments made by much more seasoned trainers and hearing the stories of Maslow’s previous behavior with dread.

He wasn’t the typical sort of dog that CARE takes in. The rescue works with fosters and the Paws in Prison program, so any dog accepted into the program is out of shelters for good, but they have stringent criteria for the sorts of dogs they can take. A previous employee had simply fallen in love with him, arrested by those orange eyes, and pulled him from the shelter. I heard that had been his second stint in a shelter.

And then he was accepted into the Paws in Prison program. The program helps many dogs develop the skills they need to be adopted successfully, but it simply isn’t a good fit for some dogs. It was not a good fit for Maslow. He was surrounded by men, a demographic he doesn’t much care for without a lot of time and treats, and he was tethered at times, another situation that he does not handle well.

He failed out of the program, but fortunately ended up with a foster family that was able to manage his behavior. They knew he struggled with other dogs — or rather, other dogs struggled with him. He tended to “posture”, or what some might call “dominate”. Simply put, he had no regard for the personal space of others, and would often get right into other dogs’ faces, which is just rude in terms of canine behavior. It was his way of trying to incite play, and the other dogs would freak out. But he liked dogs. He liked children.

And then the adoption forms came in.

Maslow was adopted out twice and returned each time to his foster family. Once, the adopter had simply felt uncomfortable. The other time, Maslow dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night with his mouth.

That story frightened me the most.

I could make guesses, now, especially after a year of knowing Maslow. I could postulate that he wasn’t feeling well, because that happens often, and he needed to go to the bathroom. I could guess that perhaps there was an intruder and he was sounding the alarm. But, a year ago, I just didn’t know, and I was concerned.

And the feedback I received from dog professionals affirmed again and again that Cane Corsos are not good family dogs. They’re great for single, experienced owners.

Don’t get the dog.

But my sister had her heart set on him, and she brought him home.

So she believed in him, and I set the rules.

He was to be on a leash for the first few days. He wasn’t allowed to have the run of the house. Yes, it was a pain, but I made this rule for a few reasons. Because Maslow had failed out twice, there was going to be a time of settling in. I didn’t know how long this would be. For some dogs, it can be as long as three months. It’s a massive change and transition for dogs to be placed in a new house. I’ve heard some people say that dogs are just so grateful, they know you rescued them, they just want to please you. For some dogs, perhaps. But whether they do or not, whether they’re grateful or not, it’s most likely that they don’t understand what’s going on. Keeping them in certain areas of the house to start helps them get used to the new situation gradually, instead of overwhelming them. They have new people to get to know, new rules to understand, a new normal to settle into. Maybe they went to the bathroom five times a day in their previous situation, but now it’s three. There may be some accidents while they get used to that, or maybe they need to go out more often.

I saw everyone settled in that first day, and then I disappeared for an hour. When I came back, Maslow lunged at me.

Adding a deep-throated bark to the lunging created a ferocious show, and all of my fears were realized in that moment.

This was a mistake.

But my sister had kept to my rule — he was on a leash, so he couldn’t charge me, and that made all of the difference. He settled down, we were reintroduced, and then my sister had to leave the house, unable to take Maslow with her.

We spent the next few hours together, him on the leash, and me watching him warily from the other end. By the end of the day, we were fine, and he started presenting his belly for scratches, but the worry had started, and it would take a long time for me to trust him.

The second rule was that he wasn’t allowed to meet my dog for several days.

I have a 20-pound schnauzer, and Maslow was 83 pounds at the time. I knew it was likely he had a prey drive (he definitely does), and I wasn’t quite sure how good he was with other dogs. We introduced them slowly, first outside of the house, then in. Maslow did his usual, which included sticking his face in Jeeves’ face. And Jeeves did his usual, which was to posture right back and do a bit of barking.

They learned to tolerate one another, and I started calling them reluctant cousins. We figured out that Maslow’s biggest issues were with other male dogs, and he would claim territories, so the dog park was out of the question unless he had the run of it (besides Jeeves), or he entered after any other dogs.

I also realized that Maslow is also a big goof.

He will lay down on the floor and roll over, expecting belly rubs. Or he’ll stand there, patiently waiting, and once the pets begin, he’ll sink lower and lower until the person can’t quite reach, and then he’ll pop back up or rollover for some belly rubs. Once I started training him, and we got to know each other better, he started jogging over to me, throwing his big ol’ blocky head against my legs, so I could give him back rubs. And when he goes outside, he likes to get on his back and push himself down the hill, for optimal back scritches from the ground.

I started to relax. Just a little.

Until I realized that my nephew is only eight, and eight year olds don’t always have the best judgment. It started reasonably at first–my nephew would get down on the floor to play with him, but Maslow would play too rough. I created another rule: my nephew could not be on the floor or lying down near Maslow. And then I added that he couldn’t be alone with Maslow.

We settled into a routine, and I wish I could say that was the transition was easy, and once we had our rules and a routine, there were no more difficult parts of adopting this giant, beautiful dog.

But Maslow has stomach issues sometimes. And when he isn’t feeling well, he doesn’t like to be manhandled. We learned to figure out how to dissect what he was saying and what he needed. We set up a system to ask him instead of forcing him.

It’s been a long year of figuring out what works best for everyone. And a year and one month in, I think we’ve figured it out.

Now, he’ll bark if he needs to go outside. He’ll bark at Jeeves if Jeeves steals some of his food.

He got a large female friend, a Malinois/Shepherd mix named Sonar, who doesn’t care that he’s rude and can handle it if he plays rough.

And when he needs a bit of love, he’ll walk over to me, and clonk his head against me, and all these months later, I’m comfortable enough to reach down and hug him, because despite it all, with all the scares and difficulties, I’m glad my sister believed in him, and I made the rules.

—

See the companion article over at Telltail Dog Training. And I’m offering dog training through group classes at SoMa Animal Clinic and private lessons for in-home work. Also find Telltail Dog on Instagram and Facebook.