New Beginnings

Where to begin? Gotta start somewhere right? I guess I’ll start with the mutt. I went on vacation in early June with the rest of the family. We had all joked around for the last few months that this would probably be the last trip for the dog and we’d have to do a Viking burial at sea or something.

I guess in a way you could say, we saw the future. I had to do the most humane thing possible at the time and had a nice remote vet come and put the dog down 2 days after our return.

Lilly the rescued pitbull… I feel it important to mention I didn’t give her that name. She came along with it. I got Lilly IIRC the last week of May of 2007 from the rescue. At the time, the vets thought she was about a year old. We bonded immediately at the shelter and I drove her home same day.

Sure she had some scars, and one really big one, but I could handle her I thought. Heh… 2 weeks in I didn’t have a fence yet, but didn’t want her sitting inside alone in a strange new house while I was working outside in the yard on the lawn mower. So my brilliant self got her leash and brought her out to check out her new yard. I didn’t trust her not to run off yet, so I figured I’d just attach a long line to her collar and stake her down next to me. Yeah, that was a bad idea.

It’s debatable which one of us won that fight. Strange, she had no problems with a leash, but a long lead was out of the question no matter what. It took me some time, but I eventually put 2 and 2 together, the fear of being staked down with a long rope and the scars all over… That was the only time she ever attacked me or anyone else.

Fast forward a few years and picture dog drool flying down the highway at 55mph while she happily hung her head out the side of the FrankenJeep much to the irritation of the poor souls behind us.

All you ever had to do to see that dog jump around like a jackrabbit on meth was say the word: “Jeep”. Good luck getting between her and the front door, or beating her to the shotgun seat. That was Lilly the dog.

Born, unknown circa 2006…ish. Died cracked out on treats in her bed June 17, 2019.

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That brings me to the name of this site. DireKing. There’s a reason for that name. I’ve always been kind of partial to German Shepherds for a while. I figured if I ever found myself in a situation looking for a new dog, I’d want something along the lines of a Shepherd. A number of years back I learned of King and Shiloh Shepherds. The two are arguably different breeds, but both have similar appearance and features. They’re both considerably larger than a GSD, but just as smart and have a slightly more laid back/gentle disposition.

I know some are going to verbally flog me for not going to a rescue and bringing home another poor, needy pup. It’s cheaper they say, because shelters only charge for the adoption and breeders are expensive. The rescues need a home too they say. Well, I’ve been that route before. I loved my last dog…so much so that I bought $90/25lb bag food for the thing twice per month. There’s an argument to be made either way. I spent a good deal of time and money at the vet with my rescue due to her history and health issues from it. So no, a rescue/adoption isn’t always cheaper. This go around I’m trying something different. I have my deposit down and I am on a waiting list for a King Shepherd from a reputable breeder.

The King Shepherd males average between 29-34″ in height at the shoulders and 120-150lbs in weight. I mentioned the size in passing to a friend a while back and they chimed in: “Oh, so you mean like a Dire Wolf on Game of Thrones?”

Funny they mentioned that. In short, they’re as big, if not bigger in some cases than an actual prehistoric Dire Wolf. So, DireKing it is.

And the wait for the new furball begins…