The rarest of the “Dog Series” of Barbies, SchH Barbie frequently must be imported from Germany, Belgium, or the Czech Republic. Although the European countries will give you a quote on the cost of shipping SchH Barbie to the US, you can reasonably expect the cost upon arrival to be roughly 30-60% higher. It may be cheaper to fly to Eurpoe and bring SchH Barbie back yourself.

Unlike most Barbies, SchH Barbie will only have from 6-9 complete fingers from baiting dogs while in high prey drive. From doing agitation, SchH Barbie will also have amazing biceps and callouses on her hands & the small of her back from repeated long line burns. All SchH Barbies come with USA or DVG rule book, maps & directions to every verein

within 500 miles, leather gloves, tracking lines, tie-out lines, stainless steel fursaver collar, pinch collar, agitation collar, jute roll, 87 tennis balls on different lengths of nylon cord, and a year’s supply of liver. Additionally, SchH Barbie will come with a soft sleeve, dumbbells, and an expression that asks, “How did I ever get sucked into this?”. SchH 2 Barbie comes with a hard sleeve, dumbbells, Ray Allen dog harness, and the sheer will to suck it up and go for the 3. SchH 3 Barbie has a smug, self-satisfied grin along with all of the previously mentioned equipment. Do not be surprised by the thick skin, especially on the back of the neck, of the SchH Barbies. This is from Training Director Ken breathing hot air down the back of her neck. Some SchH Barbies (especially the SchH 1 and 2s) may also burst into tears spontaneously at the sight of Training Director Ken and/or pull out chunks of their hair. SchH Barbie comes with your choice of dog: GSD, Rottie, Dobe, Malinois, or Giant Schnauzer. Other breeds are available but SchH Barbie will never win anything with them. Strong nerve is extra.

At the time of purchase, please request English, or German SchH Barbie. Other languages occasionally available. A-Frame, jump, and blinds must be purchased separately. Seiger, HIT, FH, AD, and V-ratings much, much extra and not always available, no matter how badly she wants it.

By Martha Burton. Martha trains with the St. Croix Valley SchH Verein in Wisconsin, where she works her 18 month dobe, Gunther.

Children As Pets — The Cat Years

I just realized that while children are dogs — loyal and affectionate — teenagers are cats.

It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around. It puts it’s head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.

Then around age 13, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside, it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your doorsteps, it disappears. You won’t see it again until it gets hungry — then it pauses on its sprint through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving.

When you reach out to ruffle its head, in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where it has seen you before. You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It won’t go on family outings.

Since you’re the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave. Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it, and it runs away. Tell it to sit, and it jumps on the counter. The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away.

Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door, and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too. Sit still, and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.

One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.”

Then you’ll realize your cat is a dog again.

From an email message dated 8/17/99 5:10:40 PM Pacific Daylight Time by


I love my master;
Thus I perfume myself with
This long-rotten squirrel.

I lie belly-up
In the sunshine, happier than
You ever will be.

Today I sniffed
Many dog butts — I celebrate
By kissing your face.

I sound the alarm!
Paperboy — come to kill us all —
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!
I lift my leg and
Wiz on each bush. Hello, Spot —
Sniff this and weep.

How do I love thee?
The ways are numberless as
My hairs on the rug.

My human is home!
I am so ecstatic I have
Made a puddle.

The cat is not all
Bad — she fills the litter box
With Tootsie Rolls.
Sleeping here, my chin
On your foot — no greater bliss — well,
Maybe catching cats.

Look in my eyes and
Deny it. No human could
Love you as much I do.

Dig under fence — why?
Because it’s there. Because it’s
There. Because it’s there.

I am your best friend,
Now, always, and especially
When you are eating. >
You may call them fleas,
But they are far more — I call
Them a vocation.

My owners’ mood is
Romantic — I lie near their
Feet. I blow a big one.

I hate my choke chain —
Look, world, they strangle me! Ack
Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack!

Cat Haiku

You never feed me.
Perhaps I’ll sleep on your face.
That will sure show you.

You *must* scratch me there!
Yes, above my tail!
Behold, elevator butt.

The rule for today:
Touch my tail, I shred your hand.
New rule tomorrow.

Grace personified.
I leap into the window.
I meant to do that.
Blur of motion, then —
Silence, me, a paper bag.
What is so funny?

You’re always typing.
Well, let’s see you ignore my
sitting on your hands.

My small cardboard box.
You cannot see me if I
Can just hide my head.

Terrible battle.
I fought for hours. Come and see!
What’s a ‘term paper?’
Small brave carnivores
Kill pine cones and mosquitoes
Fear vacuum cleaner.

I want to be close
to you. Can I fit my head
inside your armpit?

Wanna go outside.
Oh, crap! Help! I got outside!
Let me back inside!

Oh no! Big One
has been trapped by newspaper!
Cat to the rescue!

Humans are so strange.
Mine lies still in bed, then screams.
My claws are not that sharp.

Cats meow out of angst
“Thumbs! If only we had thumbs!
We could break so much!”

The Big Ones snore now
Every room is dark and cold
Time for “Cup Hockey.”

In deep sleep hear sound
Cat vomit hair ball somewhere
Will find in morning.

We’re almost equals
I purr to show I love you.
Want to smell my butt?


A nursery school teacher was delivering a station wagon full of kids home one day when a fire truck zoomed past. Sitting in the front seat of the fire truck was a Dalmatian dog.
  The children fell to discussing the dog’s duties.

“They use him to keep crowds back,” said one youngster.
  “No,” said another, “he’s just for good luck.”
  A third child brought the argument to a close.
  “They use the dogs,” she said firmly, “to find the fire hydrant!”

Blonde Joke

A blonde returns home in the afternoon to find her house has been broken into and the place ransacked.

She calls the cops — and is standing on the front porch, wringing her hands, when a K9 officer arrives with his dog.

“Now I KNOW this is the worst day of my life!” she wails. “First my house is burglarized and then they send me a BLIND cop!”

A Talking Dog Story

A guy toddles into the bar with his mutt at his side and says to the barkeep, “My dog here is the smartest dog ever was, and he can talk!”

The bartender says, “Getoutahere…dogs can’t talk.”

The guys says, “I’ll prove it to you for a drink.”

“OK, you’re on.”, says the man behind the bar.

The guy looks down at the dog….”What grows under a tree?”


The guy says, “There you have it! Give me that drink.”

“Not so fast”, says the barkeep…”that’s just a dog making sounds…he ain’t talkin’.”

“OK…How’s about this then….”, looks down at the dog again and says, “What’s over a house?”


There’s steam startin’ to come out of the bartender’s ears and he says, “Don’t get me mad…you are taking advantage of my good nature.”

“Allright…allright”, says the drunk, “don’t get upset…give me one more chance to prove to you how smart my dog is and show you he can talk.” “OK, dog…”, says the drunk. “who was the greatest ballplayer of all-time?”


With that the bartender grabs the drunk by the seat of the pants and tosses him and the dog right out the door and into the gutter. The drunk is brushing off the dust when his dog looks up at him and says, “DiMaggio?”.

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