When Max, a bouncy German Shepherd puppy, first came home, the Johnson family was overjoyed. His ears were too big for his head, and he had a clumsy way of running that made everyone laugh. But as the weeks turned into months, Max’s energy turned into chaos—chewed shoes, shredded pillows, nonstop barking, and a stubborn refusal to listen.
The Johnsons were exhausted. Max wasn’t the cuddly, obedient dog they had imagined. He was smart—too smart—but wild. They even considered returning him, like so many others had before them.
But then came summer.
One hot afternoon, Max jumped straight into the backyard pool, chasing after a floating toy. He paddled with confidence, his tongue out, his eyes bright. For the first time, the Johnsons saw past the mayhem and into the heart of a dog just trying to figure out the world.
That became their ritual—Max in the water, kids laughing, chaos replaced by connection. Training got easier. Max started to listen. And the Johnsons began to understand: he wasn’t a bad dog. He was just a puppy.
Now, whenever someone asks if German Shepherds are hard puppies, Mr. Johnson just smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “But they’re worth every minute.”
And Max? He still swims every day—his first year long behind him, and his forever home firmly ahead.
