Oh my goodness, Rabbit, you hit Quinn's demeanor on the nail!
Gewehr, a Spitz/Chow cross? Wow. I used to raise Spitzes. They're 25 pound Maverick missles with faulty guidance systems. You know they're going to go off- you just never know when or where.
She won't walk a straight line on her leash. She's constantly hunting or looking for something, and running everywhere, we thought she was just dyslexic or even autistic. Even in our back yard with Big Bernie as her playmate, her travels resemble the flight of the bumblebee. She has exceptional hearing and one heck of a nose. A new scent brings on a full-stop, and a new track to find out what it is. Small creatures bring a full-steam chase, she almost retrieved a mallard duck not long ago, but had the tail feathers to present Mom and Dad. If she doesn't catch the mouse/mole/rabbit/bird, then she vocalizes loudly about her disappointment. Same goes if she's not allowed to chase a given furry little creature, she'll let you know she's displeased with your holding her back.
Now add the Chow-Chow component, which means she trusts nobody. If you're not a member of the family wolfpack, you're either an enemy, food, or something in-between. She's indifferent to other people as long as they're not in her "zone" or messing with members of her pack. Her favorite spot during the day is sitting in the front bedroom, on #2 stepson's bed, nose poking through the vertical blinds watching the front yard and street. She scares the living bejeezus out of a certain red-headed fat kid each day as he walks by on the sidewalk coming home from school, waiting for him to be nearest her window when she lets loose with the growling and barking. I noticed this Christmas that UPS leaves packages on the driveway, they won't get any closer to the house.
I've got the house posted "Beware of Dog", she has a stout lead each time she's outside with us, and I shield people from her when they come over for a visit. To some degree I consider her a liability, and do my utmost to prevent contact between her and non-family people, as well as other dogs. That's a double-edged sword, because socialization early on would probably have helped her tremendously. Mrs. G-98 and I found her as a little black butterball at the Humane Society, stuck in the dark corner of a steel cage, and brought her home, along with Berndoggie, the 100-pound dufus. Both were tiny little things, here's Quinn shortly after we brought her home:
Now she's a muscular, all-black (including the tongue) 44-pound machine, fast as greased lightning, with a hunter-killer instinct. Even when she's just walking on the soccer field, she fairly ripples:
Here she is, giving Bernie a piece of her mind:
Even now, with Bernie weighing a solid 100 pounds, Quinn has no trouble terrorizing him. When she's had enough of his shenanigans, she bites his testicles and hind legs, forcing him to sit abruptly.
She'd probably have been put to sleep at the Humane Society had I not brought her home that day, so Mrs. G-98 and myself are quite aware that we're the ones keeping Teufelhund alive and happy, she's our baby, problem child though she is. I have noticed, as she approaches her 3rd birthday, that she seems to be mellowing out, and is more affectionate to family members and Bernie. She's particularly attached to Stepson #2, he's the one that can take her to the vet without a muzzle. Maybe that's a good sign.
Norton, she's darned good at finding and dispatching moles. But the nose is just the first part of the hunt. You should see the trenches dug in my front and back yards where she went for the intercept and kill. I'll have to film a .mpeg file, there's dirt flying everywhere and she inserts her nose into the trench all the way up to her eyes for a fresh sniff before resuming digging. We used to think it was funny to point to the ground and yell "Quinn, there's one!" before we realized we were only hastening the roto-tilling of our yard.
