Dog of my dreams, bane of my existence

This is Wally, my big, goofy dog.

My mom says he reminds her of Marmaduke.
He's tall and gangly and highly food-motivated.

This should make him easy to train; unfortunately, his owners weren't disciplined enough to teach him much more than sit, lie down, roll over and "No!" (The latter only works sometimes, depending on how sincere Wally believes the request to be)

We got Wally from the local rescue league when he was 3 1/2 months old. His first two years were challenging, to say the least. He regularly chewed through $60 or more of dog toys a month, grabbed toys, tv remotes or anything of interest and ran, emptied waste baskets (I can't count the number of times I've had to pry his mouth open to remove soggy, dirty kleenex), and required more than 5 miles of walking a day, just to be manageable. The only thing that kept me from returning him was the lesson in responsibility I wanted to teach my children.

And that goofy face.

In the intervening 8 years, Wally has eaten his way through thousands of dollars in vet bills. Like the time several years ago when Wendy's restaurants were giving away free Frosties. The six of us piled into the car and headed out for our freebies, stopping at not one, but two Wendy's and Krispy Creme for free donuts. It wasn't until we returned home that we realized Wally's newly filled prednisone prescription bottle was emtpy and Wally didn't look so good. What followed was a 3-hour ordeal, involving an after-hours vet visit, charcoal and stomach pumping.

And a bill of more than $300.

But the Frosties were good.

We can't leave any food item within reach, or Wally will grab it and eat to excess. He's consumed a dozen Krispy Cremes, cookies, several boxes of Raisin Bran (that one was fun), two boxes of chocolate covered cherries, and innumerable other unattended food items. There was also the time he got into my daughter's rabbit cage and ate hay and poop. We found out about it when he vomited the partially digested sludge onto my youngest daughter.

Then there was the time he stepped on something sharp (a stick) and cut his leg. This required, in addition to several staples, twice daily soaks in Epsom salts. How do you coax a 75 pound dog into soaking his paw for 20 minutes twice a day? Prepare the soaking water in the bathtub, place dog in water and spread peanut butter around the inner edge of the tub. It actually does take about 20 minutes to lick a layer of peanut butter from around a bathtub.

Most recently, Wally sneaked into the basement. (Actually, we know the cat let him down there) He used to be afraid of the basement steps until tornado warnings earlier this summer taught him the basement wasn't such a bad place. Anyway, he got into the plastic storage container of dog food and ate until he could hold no more. What followed was 5 days of diarrhea and a special diet of boiled hamburger and white rice.

A dear friend of mine has suggested that perhaps the principles of unschooling as applied to Wally's food choices might be something to try. In other words, allow him free access to his food and he'll learn to regulate himself.
She, however, has never cleaned up dog vomit at 2 in the morning, nor had to remove dog diarrhea from her family room couches.

So, why do we keep this troublesome mutt?

No one loves us as unconditionally as Wally and there isn't anyone in the world who demonstrates the power of unwavering optimism as he does. We are his pack and he is our Wally-dolly.

We don't know what we'd do without him.

Though it would be nice to be able to leave grapes on the table...