Silly Shepherds · About a 7-minute read
Some days, you have plans.
And life has other plans.
Thursday, September 3. 5:15 p.m. I’m ready to go for a walk. Odin and Zara are already waiting at the door.
Then the door next to our house opens.
And a Belgian Malinois leaps into my arms.
Loose. No collar. Nothing.
That was how day 34 began.
🐾 The Lost Malinois
A female. In heat. Nervous, but showing no aggression toward me. A good-looking dog who moved well.
I still had Odin’s familiar rope leash within reach—yes, the rope from day one—and used it to secure her.
My own dogs went into the backyard.
First, get this dog somewhere safe.
I checked two houses on our street where I knew people had Malinois. Nobody recognized her.
A message in the neighborhood app. A post on Facebook. A call to the Dutch animal welfare service.
Nine callers ahead of you.
Twenty minutes later, I finally got to explain what had happened.
They would come, but it could take an hour. And if an emergency came up in the meantime…
This is where I have to pause.
Because this is the Netherlands in 2026. From where I was standing, we seemed able to find money for all kinds of things, yet the people helping animals were stretched so thin that a lost dog could mean a long wait.
I found that infuriating. Those people need the resources to do their work properly.
I’ll leave it there, because this still makes me angry.
Fortunately, someone I knew farther up the street had already called the police. Through her daughter, who works with the Maastricht police, two officers headed our way.
Wonderful people.
They didn’t have a microchip scanner with them, but a dog-unit team was also on the way.
The first scanner didn’t work. The second, newer one did.
And before the officer could look up the owner’s details, a man walked into the street.
The dog clearly recognized him.
Owner found. Details exchanged. Officers back on their way.
Two friendly, helpful people doing their job with care.
Thank you to both of them.
Two hours had passed.
My own dogs still hadn’t had their walk.
🐾 What Odin Did—and Why I’m Proud
While all this was happening, Odin and Zara were in the backyard.
Later, I briefly introduced them to the Malinois.
Odin approached a little too eagerly and got a warning snap.
He backed off.
No snapping back. No escalation.
Just: Okay. Message received.
But the best part of that day was something else.
When I finally took my own dogs to the woods—two hours later than planned—Odin hadn’t pooped in the backyard.
For weeks, that had been his habit. It had also been allowed at his previous home.
This time, he waited.
Three hours.
That felt like a real change for a dog who had arrived only weeks earlier with a rope for a leash and so much still to learn.
🐾 What Else Happened This Week
Days 31 and 32 — Odin is no longer constantly seeking Garry out. He seems to be learning that Garry wants some space.
Instead, much of his energy goes toward Zara. I still have to slow that down because roughhousing isn’t her thing.
But when they pick up a stick together?
They play.
That is progress.
Day 33 — In the woods, I let him off-leash briefly on a straight stretch of trail. Odin and Zara played well together with sticks.
Those moments—just two dogs running and playing together—are what you hope for.
Day 35 — We met a man at the dog field who has also had German Shepherds for years.
Zara immediately gave him an enthusiastic welcome.
Odin kept his distance, but seemed less afraid than last time.
A small step.
Also day 35 — Picking Stella up from school. Odin hadn’t gone to the bathroom during our stop in the industrial area.
That caught me off guard. We’re still figuring out his bathroom routine and which places he feels comfortable using.
Day 35—the downpour — I thought I was being clever by heading out before the worst of the rain.
We walked in the woods for more than an hour.
Then the sky emptied itself on us.
This wasn’t a shower. It was a waterfall.
Absolutely soaked. Even the dogs had stopped enjoying themselves.
Sheltering under the pine trees barely helped, and the heaviest rain was still to come.
We picked up the pace toward the car.
Another twenty minutes away.
Back home, out came the dog dryer.
Zara: Wonderful. Keep going.
Odin: stayed put, but would clearly have preferred to be somewhere else.
Day 36 — We did our 3-kilometer hill route twice—about 1.9 miles each time.
On straight sections, I let Odin off-leash. He sniffed calmly and stayed out of trouble.
That is the Odin we’re working toward.
Day 37 — The off-leash area in Landgraaf.
Running. Sticks. Trying to get Zara to play.
Then baths for both of them.
Odin still pees on his own front legs, and by now the smell seemed to have spread to the rest of him.
Zara loves water, so naturally she joined in too.
🐾 Playing—Still a Work in Progress
This deserves its own section.
Odin plays too roughly.
Too much force. Too much enthusiasm.
Other dogs snap at him. Zara comes and stands against me.
And I have to step in.
He still has a lot to learn about comfortable social play. He doesn’t always respond to another dog’s signals or recognize when his approach is too much.
When he charges toward another dog, it may look playful to him—or at least that is how I have sometimes interpreted it. The other dog may experience it very differently.
That is the part I need to manage.
A warning snap tells me an interaction has already become uncomfortable. I want to get better at interrupting earlier, giving the dogs space, and helping Odin settle before things reach that point.
When I ask him to slow down and he responds, we have something to build on.
Patience.
Repetition.
Time.
🐾 Five Weeks In—Where We Stand
Five weeks ago: a rope for a leash, an explosive reaction to a Labrador, and no basic commands.
Now: waiting three hours without pooping in the backyard while an unfamiliar dog disrupted our afternoon.
Backing off after a Malinois warned him.
An incident-free visit to the dog field.
Playing with Zara.
We’re moving in the right direction.
Progress is gradual. Some days are hard work.
But there is progress.
And for this week, that is enough.
Follow Odin’s diary on the website—and find us on YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook.
🐕 No Wikipedia. Just Us.
This isn’t a training guide. It’s our honest diary of a dog who deserves a second chance—and an owner who won’t give up. Week by week. Step by step.
