Will the real Slim-Roscoe please stand up?

For those of you who have not been formally introduced...this is Roscoe:

And the fact that he physically held still long enough for this picture to be taken is a freakin' miracle unto itself and speakes volumes as to the success of our, um..."training" with him recently. In fact, only a week or so ago I had another blog about some Roscoenian adventures with this lovely picture and my sister said, "That is a great picture of Roscoe! I can't believe he sat still long enough to take one!"  I had to come clean...it was not a picture of our Roscoe...it was one of some other apparently well-behaved Jagdterrier I found on Flickr, because the thought of our Roscoe holding still long enough to be captured by a high speed digital camera shutter? really? Hahahahahahahaha!!!!  So, yah...I faked it. And it was a pretty good fake, too. But, the darling little furball above is our actual little Roscoe.  Ta da! And no blood was shed in the taking of these pictures! 

Roscoe is a Jagdterrier, which apparently is some German bred hunting dog which requires much pleghm and a complete ignorance of the letter "J" to correctly pronounce the breed name. Roscoe joined out little family a few months ago as a "gift/payback" to Matt from some "guy he knows" in south Alabama who owed him some "favors" and apparently imported some of these love-ly critters from Croatia to breed.  I just don't ask questions...all I know is Matt came home with this adorable little furball who became Lola's little brother and new best friend!

Ok, to say that Roscoe is "high energy" would be like saying Brittney Spears is just a social drinker.  Dude...this dog is on FULL SPEED AHEAD like all the freakin' time.  We (and by "we" I mean "I", because Matt's idea of training is just to put him outside til he "grows out of it") have been working with him to chill the hell out and just be a "good boy."  And (dare I say this outloud...) we have actually made some progress.  For example, Roscoe now sits on command to get petted instead of just running at me at full speed and knocking the piss out of me.  He also is house-trained [insert choir of angels singing here...] and no longer views Lola's puppy-bed as his own personal crapper.  And, he is getting much, much better at just being inside the house without acting like he is on crack. 

Last weekend I let Roscoe in for most of the 48 hours and we had a long talk...a zen-like discussion of how he needed to just learn how to "be" and chill out. And, I think it may have worked! Just call me the puppy-zen-master! 

So, this morning, I let he and Lola inside and the just "being" began.  And he did great! I mean, we had some "minor" events, but in the grand scheme of things it was great! 

Like, I was sitting in the computer/sewing room doing some internet browsing and both pups were quietly in here with me just "being" and playing with their puppy-toys.  Then, I heard this noise...a loud "bang"...followed by some shuffling.  I look around and realize Roscoe has managed to sneak out of the room...quietly. This dog does nothing quietly...  I walk into the spare room (where the various bang, thump, shuffle, bang noises are coming from) and find this:

That would be Roscoe there on the left...the one that is not so subtly dragging off the poor, stuffed bunny (small furry bunnies wearing pink suspenders being the natural prey of Jagdterriers).  And the clock? I have no idea. The bunny had been on the spare bed and the clock on the nightstand, so I'm assuming that in his quest for Bunny, the clock became yet another casualty of the mighty Roscoe.  So,  I get the bunny from him and explain "bad dog" to him. Then I pick up the clock only to realize the back had come off of it and a battery falls out. Guess who grabs the battery? (apparently the other natural prey of Jagdterriers...) So, now I am chasing Roscoe around the house trying to get a AAA battery out of his jaws of death, because I am pretty sure that if he eats a battery it will be what we in the professional field call "not good." So, after much bribing with cat-food (it's like Kryptonite to my dogs) I retrieve the slobber-covered battery.  No harm, no foul. 

So, like after an hour or so later of perfectly behaved puppies, I decide to take a shower.  I brilliantly decide to leave the bathroom door open just in case any more "loud noises" should occur in the house.  Water on...shampoo on...rinsing hair... Aaaackckckckckcck!!!!What the hell is that on my leg?!?!?!  I swear, it's like giant furry tarantula is climbing up my calf! [Note: I HATE spiders!!!] In mid scream I wipe the shampoo out of my face, turn and find...

I have to laugh...hard.  And the poor guy looks absolutely terrified from my shrieking.  So, I stop laughing, tell him to "get out" and, miracle of miracle, he does! Of course, he is wet and takes out about 2-3 various shampoo/conditioner/soap bottles with him on his way out, but he did obey.  So, I chalk this one up to puppy shenanigans, laugh and finish my shower thinking to myself, "See, he's getting better!" Then I get out of the shower to find this:

Ok...so, it's a work in progress.

And I shit you not...as I was just wrapping up this blog I heard an odd chewing sound and went to investigate...I have just returned from about 5 minutes of chasing Roscoe through the house trying to retrieve a pair of my panties from his mouth...Nice...