Five days after I got Charlie, the Humane Society called to say that they had captured Nell in a live trap. She had been gone for three months. She was as terrified of humans as ever but no fear-biter. She had a nasty uterine infection, a blessing in disguise, because she was pregnant. I immediately took her to the vet for spaying, which cured the infection. The good news was that out on her own, she had proved to be quite the enterprising dog, gaining almost 30 pounds so she was at a normal weight of 65 pounds.

Nell, raising money for the local Humane Society at its 'Mutt 'n' Strut' walk/run.

Nell, eyeing Toggle' birthday cake.
'So when do we eat?'
(This cake was baked from the recipe from the Bad To the Bone Cookbook, which can be ordered from ATRA (Airedale Terrier Rescue & Adoption)

The first month I had them both was h*ll. Nell was terrified of me, terrified of Charlie, who tried to attack her every time she got close to me, and even terrified of the cat. Apparently, she'd spent her life in a pen with 15 or so other dogs competing for food and with little or no human contact. Or feline contact, for that matter. When the cat would purr, she'd run out of the room.

Charlie, helping himself to Toggle's 'tribble', while Nell looks on.

She would not take food from me, either. The worst part was that she could hold her urine and feces for up to two days. I would take her out a dozen times a day and she would not go on the leash. I could not let her out unleashed because she'd try to escape. I had to keep a potty chart because I was afraid she'd burst. It is the first time that I have ever been grateful when a dog had an accident in the house. She was terrified at night and tried to scratch her way out of my doors but when I tried to crate her, she got tremendously claustrophobic, crying all night.

She quickly housebroke herself, though, and I trained her to take food from my hand over the next month (my former special educator skills came in handy). In a couple of months, I was able to take her for walks off the leash by the river using treats to get her to come to me. She was still dealing with Charlie, who would periodically attack her, however. In fact, by that summer, she was totally fed up with him and didn't want much to do with him.

Toggle & Nell, visiting their friend Lilah.
(That's Mary; Lilah is the dog second from the right - ad)

Meanwhile, Charlie kept getting into fights on the street with unattended dogs, which was really scary to me. One time I was knocked over in the process and all the gnashing of teeth and chomping of skin was taking place about six inches from my head.

Nell kept having these fantasies of dominance, however, and appeared to be making further study of the subject. She was learning to mark her territory on walks and lifted her leg to go on trees. Our turning point with Charlie came when I strongly corrected him after he attacked her, and rather than running away, she watched. You could see the light bulb go on when she realized that I was dominant over him. After that she got braver around him and interacted more. She taught him to play. She was the dog expert, having lived in a pack environment and he was the unsocialized one, having spent his first nine months in a cage. So she taught him to share his toys more and to play rather than fight. And when we went out to the woods she taught him how to 'hunt' critters, i.e., chase madly after them. Charlie has deformed back feet and at 75 pounds, is not as fast as she is but he's developed a real zeal for that terrier 'going to earth' business.

He is still the quintessential suburban boy. He loves all kinds of foods, plays fetch pretty well, and was crate-trained from the start. He adores his crates so much that I now have three for him - his day crate, a crate in my office and a crate in my bedroom where he sleeps at night. And that's one thing he taught Nell. It took us a year to get her ready for a crate. She would watch him hang out in his. Then last Christmas I ordered her one. The first time I had to shove her into it. But she discovered that she got a treat every time she went in and a chewy that she could have to herself when she was in there. Now she also hangs out in her crate with the door open sometimes and goes in voluntarily when I have to leave.

The first several months I had Nell, she completely excavated my yard. Charlie, who was so meticulous he refused to drink from mud puddles and insisted I vacuum his crate whenever he saw dirt in it, was appalled. Now she has taught him to dig. Although she has pretty well given it up, he recently appears to be majoring in archeology.

And she was the sneak thief. All the regular Airedale stuff and then some. Toilet paper. Kleenex® from wastepaper baskets. Food wrappers and junk mail. I'd leave the dog door open sometimes so she could go out into the fenced yard while I was gone if she liked. Of course, whenever something disappeared, I had a pretty good idea of where I could find it. One time I came home after dark and woke up the next morning to find the following in my yard: my gym shorts, gym bra, one sneaker, one slipper, a Cuisinart® bowl, a Cuisinart® blade with the plastic piece chewed, an assortment of silverware and a toilet paper roll, unraveled as though the yard had been t-p'd. It looked like there had been a garage sale in my absence and, for all I know, there could have been. She has now pretty well given that up, with the occasional slipper taken outside when she thinks she is not getting enough attention (like when I've been out of town). She has also stopped chewing on my stuff, sticking to her own, except when she gets really nervous.