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My Saint Bernard X Mastiff x Great Dane was an ex-security/service dog.
He was bred and trained especially for assisting and protecting his charge.

But as he failed at the aggressive behaviour part of the training {basically, his aggression levels were 0}, he was given up to the shelter.

But he's an excellent service dog. We apply it to everyday life. He taught my daughter to walk, actually.

My door has a glass panel at about hip height, and when someone walks up the driveway {it's gravel, so you can hear it crunch}, Meatloaf stands up, presses his nose to the glass and warning-growls.
Because the glass pushes his jowls up, and makes his snout all wrinkled, he looks like he's at the point of attack.
Plus the drool smeared across the glass....I've had delivery men try to poke the doorbell with a long stick before, instead of risking getting any closer to the door.

I assume they think his head might burst out of the glass and he'll go for them, Cujo style. 

I hate to say it...but I really think you should consider adoption if you're planning a family.
The half puppy/half babies may feel a little too....unique once they get to school and realise that their friend's parents are both human.

I just found out prong collars are illegal in my state.

What else can I do?

*Jaws theme*

Today was a disaster. We're both in shame.

We were walking down the road, this being Shanty and I, and I saw a man leading a black German Shepard across the road. I thought hey, cool, that's fine, he's over there.
Well he sees us, waves, and crosses over.
Shanty leaps towards him, barking and snarling, and I'm trying to rein her in, with as much success as a toddler trying to reel in a whale.

The Halti/Gentle leader is digging into her face and neck but she's ignoring it like it isn't even there. Worst thing is, the guy keeps on walking towards us, smiling and waving, and boy am I ready to kill him.

After a minute the Halti/Leader breaks....yes. ..snaps...and she's off and running towards him.
This is the time he decides to turn around go back the way he came, fat little legs peddling, his Shep running as fat as it can with it's tail between it's legs.
Too late, she's running in circles around him, barking and snapping at the Shep.
We know she's not attacked yet, and probably never will, and all she does is run and bark, and does 'play' poses, but it always looks so fierce that the other owner gets terrified.

We eventually got away from him.

Should I resort to a choke chain collar?

As soon as she sees another dog she's like this, and she's a tall and hefty dog that I just cannot hold once she's going crazy.
h*ll, I don't know anyone who could hold her in check.
The Halti was useless once she saw that Shep, and it's the same with every other dog **except Meatloaf** that she sees.

what can I do?

I just came home from an 11-hour, crappy day at work. You can't know how much I needed that laugh. What a great story.

One question, though - what the heck is a pinching yabbie?

a yabby is like a small lobster looking thing.
They pinch with their...well.. ..pinchers...a nd it HURTS because they hang on, and drag themselves backwards.

That was funny and I can tell you if I had been that man, I wouldnt have been horrified.  I would have been on the ground myself, laughing till I peed myself.
Im glad that you are booth ok though.
Thanks again for the laugh!

Well I've seen that guy before and his dog is always very yappy and excitable, so the fact that it was cowering in it's master's arms, completely silent, was a credit to how nutty we did look

So, we were out for a walk, the great big speckled idiot and I, and we saw a lake.

Great, says I, I can rest in the shade of that there tree.

Suddenly, a duck appears on the opposite side of the lake.
Shanty's ears go up, her head snaps up, and she starts whining deep in her throat.

Uh-oh, says I.
Looks like Ducky better fly away fast!

Nope. Ducky starts paddling towards us {like, seriously, what kind of dumb-@ss duck DOES that?!} and Shanty backs up a few steps, then gives a heave, yanks the lead out of my hands and takes off at a lolloping gallop straight at the lakeshore.
When she gets to the edge, which is about half a metre above the waterline, going still full-pace, she crunches down into a ball, then launches herself towards the lake.

Duck: "Dogs can't swim. I'm safe"
Shanty: *singing* "I believe I can fly...."

Yep, she leaped straight into the damned lake.

You know how you see footage of skydivers from above, where their arms and legs are stretched out? That's what she did. Ears and jowls flapping in the wind, mouth open, tail streaming out behind.

And sploosh!

Straight in, over her head.
She resurfaced a second later, blew water out her mouth, then made a beeline for the duck, checking over her shoulder to make sure I wasn't following.

What she hadn't figured on was a owner who was raised on a horse farm, and used to swim in dams that were infested in pinching yabbies, and regulary used to have to rescue foals from the depths of the murky black water.

So with a yell of assorted cursewords and flailing limbs, I launched myself into the lake, got Shanty into a strangehold and started hauling her back to shore.

Halfway there, she decides that it's all every exciting and she's very glad to see me, so she turns around, links her paws around my neck and starts kissing me, with me batting her snout away and yelling "Stop it, you bloody great wuffer! I'll drown you, I swear to god!", which seems to directly translate in her head as "Good girl, Shanty! More! More!"

So I get up and out onto a rock, and begin heaving her out of the lake, first by the collar, then by the chest, then the hind legs {which is very difficult because she now knows she's in trouble, so she keeps trying to get back in the lake} until she's standing on the rock with me, and shakes. IN MY FACE.
Then turns around, and wags her wet tail. IN MY FACE.


So with the force of that blow, I fall backwards off the rock onto a bed of grass clippings, covering my wet clothing in hay.
Shanty of course thinks she's forgiven and that I'm starting a wrestling match, so she launches off the rock onto me.

By the time I get up, I'm sopping wet, covered in hay, my non-waterproof makeup is smeared down my face, I have muddy pawprints on my chest and face and my carefully washed hair is like a blackbird's nest.

I start brushing myself off, which Shanty sees as: "come here!", so she runs at me, tries to stop, loses traction on the wet hay, skids, and crashes into my knees from behind.

Down I go like a sack of bricks, straight into....

the lake.

Shanty: "Gee golly! It must be playtime AGAIN!"

By the time we're out *again*, clean and calmed down *again*, I notice a man standing on the opposite pavement, holding a Jack Russel in his arms, looking like he expects us to lunge at him any second.
He's obviously witnessed the whole thing and thinks we're as mad as hatters.


So, whoever didn't smile while imagining this, you have no sense of humour.