Good dog Max?

A couple people have asked me why I call him Mad Max. There's two reasons:  (1) He's as good looking a dog as Mel Gibson was a man in the first couple movies of the Mad Max series. (That was before Mel Gibson exposed himself as a rabid, fundamentalist christian asshole, which rendered him permanently and irrevocably hideous); and (2) he's insane. He's not Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Nugent insane, but he's got issues. He's wrapped too tight, he's a bundle of nerves wrapped in a mass of anxiety, he's just not right.


I've had him on Prozac and that has helped. It has reduced the tail chasing and has greatly reduced the shrill screaming that he does when chasing his tail. But he's still fucking nuts and not really adoptable. Ochie is pretty high strung himself and the combination of him and Mad Max is not good. Max has taken to aggressively chasing Ochie, cornering him until Ochie fights back. Nothing physical has happened, it's just noise, but it really gets on my nerves and this morning I had had enough of it. I doubled Max's usual dose of Prozac and left him in a kennel by himself all day.


Late this afternoon I took him out on a hike and he was a different dog. The leash was usually fully extended between us, but it wasn't stretched tight.  He wasn't pulling, jerking, or trying to take off after every bird, bug, or noise that caught his attention. We had a pleasant walk. He was probably stoned out of his mind, but if that's what it takes to make him nearly normal, that's what we'll do.  I'm going to take him in and consult with a vet about a more appropriate dose, and perhaps to add a second anti-anxiety drug to his cocktail. I need to find something that works, and then I need to find him a home as a farm dog perhaps, where he won't be expected to behave too normally. 


I hope to stop calling him Mad Max someday, but "Good Dog Max" is probably a ways off still. Perhaps, Not-So-Mad Max? 

We did another 5 miles today!