Tobie is approximately 3 years old now. He came home with me in May 2021 at a very roughly estimated age of six months. We have gone through changes – I won’t quite label him a hell puppy but he did have issues, and I’m a grumpy old man with my own issues, mostly involving pain, and I wasn’t always as patient as he needed me to be. Our relationship is a lot less rocky than it sometimes was in ’21 and early ’22, when I never knew from day to day whether I would have as many intact possessions in the evening as I had in the morning.
But he’s approaching maturity – at least physically he seems to have grown as much as he’s going to. Emotionally we may still have bridges to cross but he’s a lot less spazzy than he used to be. We get along better now.
I tried to get him to stretch out into his normal walking gait so you could get a better idea of his final proportions but, as often happens when I point the box at him, he became less than totally cooperative. But you get the idea.
He has less Anatolian influence than I expected him to end up with. It really only shows in his face and that curly tail. He’s too skinny, and his coat is more like a Golden.
Nowhere near as big as Little Bear got in any dimension, especially width. He’s leggy, with a nice deep chest. I’ll bet he’d be quite a runner if I didn’t keep him on a strict leash.
My frequent impatience with misbehavior didn’t help with the trust issue but we’re getting past that. Tobie loves to invite me to play with his toys, goes through Velcro Dog moods, and (almost unique among previous dogs) he loves to be brushed. When I bring out the trash can and his undercoat rake I don’t even have to say anything – he just walks up to the can and stretches out. Not quite as patient with nail clipping but I’ve never met a dog that enjoyed that.