I posted this story, as a comment on a thread, several years ago. I thought I’d post it, for those that weren’t around back then, and as a tribute to our lil’ buddy that’s we lost earlier this week.
Gizmo was our Yorkshire Terrier. In his prime, he was all off five pounds, soaking wet, but he always thought he was a hundred and five.
I’m guessing that’s he was around four years old when the following “experiment” took place.
When he was younger, Gizmo had a barking problem (like most small house dogs). He would bark at absolutely everything. This high pitched, ear piercing bark, that you would never imagine could come from such a small critter. He would bark when you got out of the bed, when you got off of the couch, when you went out the door, etc. If someone moved, and he thought they were going somewhere without him, he barked. It was driving me crazy. He was a stubborn little sob and whipping, or scolding, him, just made him bark harder and louder, almost like he was cussing you for trying to shut him up.
At the time, I was working a job with an hour long commute that required me to get out of bed at 4:30 in the morning. Gizmo slept in the bed with us and quickly learned that when the alarm went off, I was about to get up. He’d usually be all the way at the bottom of the bed, under the blankets, at my wife’s feet. As soon as I started to move, to get out of bed, he came to life. He shoot out from under the blankets and commence to barking. Back then, I was the farthest thing from a morning person there was and loud, shrieking barking was the last thing I wanted to hear at 4:30 in the morning. I’d try to scold him and he’d bark louder. Some mornings I wanted to pick him up and throw him. I’d sit him down off the bed and he was good until I left for work. He knew my morning routine, and as soon as I headed toward the door he’d start barking again. I’d threaten to kick him like a soccer ball and he’d just run away, barking louder. We had a new baby at home and his barking waking her up in the mornings got old, fast. I’d had enough, and something had to happen.
So, one afternoon after work, I go strolling into Petsmart, looking for a solution. There hangs this tiny little bark activated shock collar. The little box on this thing doesn’t look big enough to put a correcting jolt into a ground squirrel, much less a five pound, fearless Yorkie. Regardless, it seemed worth a shot so I head home itching to try this thing out.
My wife is at home when I get there, and the baby’s awake, so we decide to give this contraption a “ test run”. Gizmo didn’t like anyone to leave, without taking him along, and would show his displeasure by barking, so we knew there should be no issue with testing this squirrel collar out.
So....I scan over the instructions, power up this collar, with this tiny little box, and strap it on. I honestly didn’t have high expectations. Boy, was I wrong.
My wife is sitting on the couch and Gizmo is in her lap. Once everything is set, I stand up and head toward the door, as if I am going to leave. Gizmo naturally perks his ear up and you can tell he’s antsy, thinking he’s about to be left behind. I’m watching him, over my shoulder, as I’m walking and waiting for him to pop out that first bark. About the time my hand hits the doorknob on the front door, there it was. He barked. The next, what seemed like five minutes, but in reality was probably 45 seconds were a blur. Before our eyes, a five pound Yorkie turned into a Tazmanian devil! The shock, from the collar when he barked, caused him to yelp which, in turn, caused another shock which then turned into another yelp and another and another. Every time he yelped, the collar shocked him, so he yelped again, and then was shocked again. You get the picture. My wife, while still trying to hold this now five pound monster, is freaking out and yelling for me to turn it off. At this point, she’s soaking wet from dog piss and is holding him straight out in front of her, with her arms extended. I’m not sure if she was trying to avoid being shocked or if she was trying to avoid the shower of piss that he was still spraying straight out. The combination of her holding him with her arms extended and moving side to side, and him spraying piss from the end of them, made them resemble a human/dog lawn sprinkler, sitting on our living room couch. By now, my wife is screaming crying thinking we’ve killed the dog. She was probably a little upset about the piss, as well, and the Yorkie turd that he’d laid in her lap. Finally, she decided to put him down and he hit the ground running. I took off in pursuit, and by the time I finally caught him and got the collar off, he had also laid out a running trail of dog chit halfway across the house. To this day, I’m still not sure where a five pound dog had all that piss and dog chit stored. At the time, we weren’t sure if he’d ever bark again, but his insides were as clean as a whistle.
It took a few days, but he eventually started to bark again. From then on, he still barked, just as much as he always had, but I could pull that collar out of the drawer, or my pocket and show it to him, and he’d chit were he was standing. He hated that collar, as did my wife.
To this day, the collar is still in the drawer. I threatened several times, over the years, but we never had to put it on him again. In all honesty, it would’ve probably caused a divorce had I tried.
RIP, buddy.
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