It All Started …

There are three stories to tell about the start of my life. The American Kennel Club would tell you that my name really is Bruce BatDog Lane and that I was born on November 3, 2010 in Pilot Point, Texas. My sire was Duke Night Train Lane. My Dam was Daisy Duke Lane. My pedigree isn’t particularly prestigious; however, I do have some direct bloodline relatives with super abilities of their own, with competition titles respectfully attached to their names.

I was originally called “Little Duke” by my breeder, Chad, and two little girls who were truly my “first” Mama’s — Sadie Jean and Brooke. Because I was sick a couple of times, I was bottle fed and became friends with the vet early on. They literally kept me alive and naturally were extremely attached to me. My first home nearly included my having to live with a cat that wasn’t particularly impressed with my “cuteness” and I was returned to the nest. Sadie Jean effectively launched a highly successful campaign to recruit “Pops” to keep me in the family. My handler (a/k/a Mom that thinks her grandkids nor me can never do anything wrong) believes that all the love and affection I received as a tiny pup is what gives me my true super powers — the unconditional love I share with her and my loving nature toward children and people.

And last, when Pops brought me home to Mom (a/k/a woman who’d never had a big dog living in her house and wasn’t so sure this was going to work), she and I began training at What A Great Dog! in Prosper, Texas with Maureen Patin, CPDT-KA. My mom was going through an emotional and stressful time caring for her father who was in a nursing home in Frisco. The hour we’d be in training class and the time we’d spend practicing were difficult to fit in, but they were the perfect distraction for her, became a link to the outside world and gave us both joy. My first field trips were to the nursing home to show off my new skills. Her Dad would tell all the staff about how smart I was and how I had to travel around in the Batmobile (he couldn’t remember that Mom actually called her Nissan Cube the BatCube), and we christened his room, the Bat Cave. Many hours passed while he asked about my training, discussed how he thought dogs should be trained, and sharing stories about the other dogs in my classes. Naturally, after he was gone, my Mom had to reenter life and get used to having more time on her hands, she had to grieve, and find new purpose … we’ve been together every step of the way in that journey.

(But as for the man of the house … he’ll tell you he got a new dog and Mom stole it.)

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