Schön the wunder puppy

Back in about 1991, my wife brought home a puppy. She didn’t discuss it with me first, she didn’t do any research, she didn’t put a lot of thought into it, she just brought home a puppy. A mixed breed mutt of unknown origins. It was a backyard bred mutt that the owners didn’t even know who the sire was. She named her Murphy. “You take care of her.” I said

Within weeks, we had a problem. The dog nipped at the kids and showed no potential for obeying commands. She took her to a local dog training school to try to train her. Then she nipped my daughter hard. Didn’t draw blood, but hurt. One evening I had Murphy in the cab of my Chevy pickup on the way home from the shop. I stopped for gas, and when I tried to get back into the cab, she bit into my arm. Robin took Murphy to the training school again and after class let out, she approached the head trainer. Before Robin could utter a word, the trainer looked at her and said “You have a problem dog. She will never be a good dog. You need to have her destroyed before she hurts someone.”. Robin cried.

I made Robin take her to the pound. She sat in the truck for an hour crying before she could bring herself to take her in.

After recovering from that experience, I did some research. I had a client that owned German Shepherds and he educated me. We found a family in Bloomington that had bred their purebred girl with a champion stud out of Peoria. We went over and played with the puppies, and I picked the one that was the least bashful and seemed interested in socializing.

We took the new puppy home, and got him settled in his crate, then we went to dinner. I stopped at a used book store on the way and bought a German-Englich dictionary. Through dinner I looked for names. The name Schön popped out at me, meaning “fine or handsome”. Robin started taking him to training and he learned eagerly. He was over 50 pounds at his first vet exam.

When Schön was about a year and a half old, we decided that he needed a friend. We started looking around. We found Hildegarde. She was a black and silver full shepherd.

At 2 years, Schön was about 120 pounds and stood as tall as a man when he stood on his hind legs. When we would wrestle, he could take me down until I told him “enough”. He knew a lot of commands. “Hold” “Drop it” “Faas!” “Platz” “Stay” “Sit” to name a few.

Part 1.

The state and local police all knew us, and knew that I was always at the shop on the weekends at all hours either cleaning up or working on projects. One Saturday afternoon I got a call about a couple in a Chevy that was broken down a bit North of Lexington, about 25 miles away. “Can you look at it?” the trooper asked. I didn’t mince words with the trooper, “Do they look OK?”. “Yes” I was told. “Call Southtown and bring them in.” I said.

About an hour later the trooper shows up with them in the back of his car, followed closely by Bill from Southtown, and the car on the hook. He backed it into the shop and dropped it in the center aisle. It took about 5 minutes to diagnose it as a no spark condition. It took a few more minutes to diagnose that the main coil pack had failed. I went up to the front office to call for parts from the auto parts store across the street. The had the part on the shelf and he gave me a price. I gave the guy the price for parts and labor and he said “Ok”. I wrote up a ticket and had him sign it. I called across the street and told them to bring it over. The couple left to go across the street to Wendy’s for an hour.

An hour later, we had the coil pack installed and everything buttoned back up. The car fired up and ran smooth. We even put it on the scope to make sure that there were no trouble codes. We pulled it up to the door and waited for them to come back.

They came back, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook to pay with. I pointed at the sign that said “Cash Only”. He asked if I’d take a credit card and I said I would. As he handed me the credit card, Schön started growling low with his paws on the gate. “Excuse me” I said and told Schön to guard office and I walked across the shop to my office. Once inside I closed the door and called the number on the back of the card. Finally getting through to a person, I read the card number and waited. “Sir, that card is stolen. Please call the local police” the rep said. “Great” I thought, more drama. I hung up and dialed 911 and waited. I walked back out to the office and said “So, my dog doesn’t like your credit card, he thinks its stolen.” The guy just stared at me. Over his shoulder I could see the Normal police car pulling into the driveway. They took him away. Another officer came, and I asked him what to do about the car. He ran the plates and VIN and the car was stolen too. They took it to impound.

I had less than $300 in the car overall, so I wrote it off to my not asking for proof of ownership before working on it. Lesson learned.

Part 2.

One late Saturday afternoon a state trooper brought a couple in. His look was of a barely contained lunatic. She was dressed in what amounted to lingerie. Their Porsche was stranded about 15 miles North of town the trooper explained. A Southtown tow truck had been dispatched and would be here in about 30 minutes. I told them they could wait over at the Wendy’s across the street and I would call the payphone when I had news. They could have sat in the waiting area, but the guy was creeping me out. To add to matters, Schön was sitting at the gate growling low in his throat. The couple left.

The car arrived in about 30 minutes, hauled in by Bill. He backed it into the shop and we pushed it onto the #2 lift, in the middle. It took about 10 minutes to determine the failure; the clutch slave cylinder had failed. I was on good terms with John who owned the local import auto parts store. I called him and asked if he could sell me some pats on a late Saturday afternoon after hours. He said sure. I told him what I needed and he said he’d be over in half an hour and quoted me the cost. I told him that I would call him back in five minutes.

I called the Wendy’s payphone and the guy answered. I told him the diagnosis and what it would take to fix and exactly how much parts and labor were.  He said that was fine. I called John back and we waited for parts.

John arrived with the parts, and we had at it. An hour later we were done. I wrote up a proper bill and called the Wendy’s. 10 minutes later, the couple showed up. I slid the bill across the counter to him. “That’s not how much you told me.” He screamed. I looked him square in the eye and said “Look, I’m not real keen on bullshit, so pay your bill and get out” I said. The growl in Schön’s throat got even louder, and Hilde was standing right behind him.

Allison was standing to my right at the desk, and I looked at her and said “Call 911.”. “Put down the phone” the tweaker said, and he reached for his back and came out with a .45, aiming it at my face not 4’ away.

“Schön! Fass!” I said loudly, and as if shot out of a cannon Schön cleared the swing door and had the man by his Right arm, taking him down to the ground. “Hold” I told him and looked at Allison and said “Ok, now call 911, tell them there is a robbery in progress at 1408 S. Main, Livingston Automotive.”.  She did.

We had a half dozen squad cars in front of the shop within 5 minutes. The cops marveled at Schön and the job he’d done. The idiot tried to tell them that Schön attacked him and they just laughed at him. They called an ambulance for him. I looked at the woman and asked “are you going to pay for the car?”. She said no. I told her to tell him it was $25 a day storage until it was paid for in cash. After a day in the hospital, he spent 5 days in jail. I got a call from lockup telling me that they were sending him over in a cab, so I asked for an officer to meet me here. He came in, paid his bill plus the storage in cash and left. Further reason why I don’t work on Porsches. The cars are nice, the engineering is great, the owners are assholes.

Part 3.

When we lived in Desplaines, we were in a garden apartment. The windows were at ground level and we always left them open in Spring and Summer. The three of us slept with our bedroom doors open.

At about 2am I was awoken by something. I looked and Schön wasn’t on the floor next to me as was usual. I gave it no notice and went back to sleep.

About an hour later, I was awakened by what sounded like whining. I found my glasses and put on my robe. I headed out towards the living room which was pitch dark. I turned on the hallway light, which lit the living room somewhat, and saw something in the far corner of the room up on the back of the couch. I went further into the living room and turned on the lights. Up on the back of the couch was a man in his mid-twenties with Schön attached to his leg. The screen to the window had been knocked out. “Schön hold” I told him, like I needed to. I went back to the bedroom to get my cell phone off my night stand to call the sheriff’s department as we were unincorporated. I stayed on the phone with them until they got to the door and let them in.

The sheriffs that came were impressed. We couldn’t figure out how long Schön had held him there, but he’d done so without mauling him. He had however wet himself.

Part 4.

The shop on Main Street had large roll up doors front and back. The front door was right up on the driveway and only about 20’ from the sidewalk. The shop floor was painted grey and there was a yellow stripe painted across the border between the shop floor and the driveway delineating the boundary.

One afternoon, while everyone was busy, Schön came bounding down the stairs where he stayed perched and came to a skidding stop at the front door. An unkempt man was standing about 4’ from the doorway. Marvin, one of my mechanics stopped what he was doing and walked towards the door. The man stepped closer. “I wouldn’t step any closer if I was you.” He said. The man mumbled something under his breath and stepped closer to the line. Schön started growling when the man was about 2’ away. Marvin again told him to stop. The man took two more steps towards the line, mere inches away. Schön barked at him. He took another step forward, his foot now on the line. Schön came up on his hind legs, put his front paws on the man’s shoulders and took his Left shoulder in his mouth and pushed back. The man stumbled back and landed on his butt. Schön stood over him daring him to get up. Allison called the police.

When the police got there a few minutes later it was the Normal K-9 unit. The first thing the officer did was praise Schön for guarding his property. He asked the man for ID and he couldn’t produce it. The officer asked what he was doing trying to walk into the shop uninvited and the man said he wanted to use the bathroom. The cop asked him if maybe he should have asked first and got a blank stare. He asked me if I wanted to press charges and I said no. The man said he wanted to press charges for being attacked by the dog. The officer told him that if the dog had attacked him, he’d be missing body parts. The officer invited him to leave the premises.

Part 5.

It was late December, after Christmas, and I was heading North on I55 at about Joliet Rd. It was ten below zero at about ten o’clock. About a mile North of the Joliet exit, the power steering went out and all the dash lights came on red. I limped the last mile and made my way into the truck stop just off the exit. It didn’t take long to see that the serpentine belt was shredded. I was screwed. I called up to 501 Pfingsten for reinforcements. We need picked up please, me and the dogs, I told my mother. There was a Christmas party going on at the moment, so she said that she’d send my younger brother. I told her that I’d be in the diner having a cup of coffee.

About 45 minutes later, my brother comes running into the diner, freaking out, babbling something about Schön and the side window of the van. I ran outside and found the 4’ by 2’ side glass laying on the ground outside the van, unbroken. My brother told me that he had found the van after he parked and was knocking on the glass when Schön literally blew through the window blowing the four mounting points that held the glass in. He didn’t go out, he just sat there in the van looking a bit dazed and waiting for further instructions. That’s what happens when 120 pounds of German Shepherd hits the window.

Part 6.

When I worked for my father, I was tasked with redesigning one of the products. How to make the components lighter, smaller and less expensive to produce. I worked with the model shop to make prototypes. I brought the dogs into the plant with me on Saturdays when it was quiet. I was working on a part called a rocker that morning. There was an engineer there named David George that was about 6’4” and mean as a snake. He would bad mouth my father, the owner of the company to whomever would listen. I was a frequent target of his ire. He hated that the designs I’d come up with worked when I had no formal engineering training. “Hack” is one of the more pleasant things he’d call me.

On this morning I was sitting at my bench, focusing on my project, when I hear the front office door slam open. I look up and here he comes, with a baseball bat in hand. “How dare you fuck with my designs” he bellows. “I’m going to crush your skull.” He says. Now there are a few people on the floor, and they’re all scared shitless. I notice that Schön, who has been laying down under my stool, is up and alert. I stand up from the bench and move a couple steps forward. Schön takes his position to my Right. David George crosses the distance, bellowing at me. I’m not sure how to get out of this as obviously discussion isn’t going to work.

When he gets about two steps from me, he brings the bat up and back in a swing stance. He takes another step towards me and is in range. “Faas!” I say quietly and Schön launches himself like a black and tan missile. He takes his arm with the bat and hits him in his chest with all 120 pounds. He goes down backwards and Schön still has his arm in his mouth. I reach down and take the bat.

Schön, drop it” I tell him, and he does. “I’ll sue you” he says. “You come in here to attack me with a baseball bat and you’re gonna sue me?”. I say as he gets up. He turns to leave, saying “Next time I’ll bring my gun.”.

Epilogue.

Schön lived to be 17 years old. He was so stubborn that he wouldn’t die. He couldn’t move his back legs, and he hovered over his food and water bowls maintaining himself and growling at anyone that came near. I was trying to give him a sponge bath one day when I found out how ulcerated his skin was. I know he was nearly blind, identifying people by smell only. At one point he stopped eating and drinking. A close friend who was a vet came to the house one night and while he lay in my lap, she gave him the injections to send him off to sleep. I cried for months, having lost my best friend of 17 years. A picture of he and Hilde hangs in my office to this day.