Hi Reader,
I think almost every dog owner has experienced this at some point: you get a second dog, or maybe even your first, and somewhere in your head there’s a picture of who that dog is supposed to be. Easygoing. Biddable. Basically your first dog, but with a different name.
And then the actual dog shows up. And she is not that.
This happens with every breed, but I see it constantly with Maremma Sheepdogs and other livestock guardian dogs, because people expect them to behave like programmable equipment — stay in the fence, guard the stock, don’t bark, don’t dig, don’t chew the hoses, don’t ever act like a dog. But a Maremma Sheepdog is still a dog first. She has instincts, moods, a personality, and a teenage phase that can knock you sideways if you’re not ready for it.
I know this because I’m living it right now, with a girl named Lia.
Meet Lia, My Escape Artist Maremma Sheepdog
Lia is 20 months old — tall, athletic, gorgeous, sound in her hips and elbows, sweet with people, outstanding with livestock. On paper, she’s everything I breed for.
Her full name is Prancing Pony Jezelia — I name a lot of my animals after book and movie characters I love, and Jezelia comes from one of my all-time favorite series, The Remnant Chronicles. Like the book character, everyone just calls her Lia.
I didn’t think much about the connection when I named her. I do now: in the books, Lia is a princess who runs away from her own kingdom on her wedding day rather than marry the prince she’s promised to, and then spends the rest of the story living wildly and dangerously outside anyone’s plan for her.
Apparently, I named my dog after a runaway princess and then acted surprised when she started running away. 🤦🏻♀️
She is also, hands down, the most talented fence-climber I’ve ever owned.
Maremmas are generally easy to contain, but occasionally you’ll get an escape artist in the bunch. Usually, these are smaller girls who go through a phase around a year old, usually climbers rather than diggers, and most outgrow it once they mature. I’ve learned to expect it and manage it — a hot wire along the top of the fence stops nearly all of them cold.
It didn’t touch Lia. She climbed right over it or slid right under it, like it wasn’t even there.
The Fourth of July That Changed Everything
Fireworks season is always when escape artists are most at risk, so I did what I always do: trazodone, and a kennel with a solid roof and concrete floor where she truly could not get out. She was fine.
A couple of days later, I moved her back to her regular pasture, reinforced with fence panels, hot wire, the works. My son said it looked like I was building a fence to keep out The Walking Dead. (My second-favorite TV series.) It didn’t matter. She immediately went straight over the arena rail, under the hot wire, and off the property for the first time ever, headed toward the road.
We live on a busy road. We’ve lost multiple cats to that road, including my favorite 10-year-old barn cat, just a couple of weeks ago. 😢 My son buried our neighbor’s dog after it was hit there a while back. I had a dog hit by a car when I was a teenager, and it is, to this day, my worst nightmare. So when Lia bolted, I was not calm. I got her back that time, and again a few nights later when another loud bang sent her tearing through the orchard — this one required a 30-minute search with three vehicles and her GPS trackers (yes, she wears two trackers) before my husband finally caught up with her in the middle of the road at the next crossroad.
An Idea Born Out of Panic
After that second scare, something clicked. Every single time Lia got loose, she did the same thing: she ran. Full-out, joyful, greyhound-style running. She wasn’t trying to leave. She was trying to move.
So one evening, after catching her near the neighbor’s orchard, I clipped on her leash, got back into the golf cart, and drove down the orchard road with her trotting alongside. By the end, she was tired, happy, and lying flat out in the grass like she’d had the best day of her life.
That was a week ago. We’ve gone almost every evening since. She’s learning to pace herself, position herself alongside the cart, and read my speed. I’m 61 with arthritis and no business trying to keep up with a dog like her on foot — but side by side on the golf cart, she gets to run flat out, safely, on peaceful, country property, away from the road. Some days we bring Maremma puppies along in the cart too, so everybody gets exposure and exercise at once.
I know some LGDs get to run alongside their family’s tractor or mower right on the property — my client Dave’s boys, Bear and Chief, do it all the time on his 55 acres in Texas. We don’t have that kind of space, and we’re not fully fenced, so the golf cart has become our version of the same thing: a way for Lia to really run, without any risk of the road.
I never would have found this if Lia hadn’t forced my hand. I wasn’t looking for a solution to a problem I didn’t know I had — I was just trying to keep my dog alive.
What Lia Taught Me About Loving the Dog In Front of You
I could tell you this is a story about fencing. It’s really not.
Somewhere along the way, someone told me that if I ever walked my worst escape artist, Pax, off the property he’d learn there was a big world out there and become impossible to contain. Well, Pax got loose on his own one day anyway, with zero walking history, and was gone for 24 hours before he found his own way home. The walks were never the variable. The dog’s nature is. (Pax is Lia’s sire, btw. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 😆)
That’s the myth I want to leave you with: there are no universal rules for these dogs. Not “Maremmas can’t be pets.” Not “don’t walk your LGD.” Not “livestock guardian dogs can’t have fun.” A Maremma Sheepdog can absolutely have a job and a relationship with you — swim in the pond, roll in the grass, go for a run — the same way a person can have a demanding career and still come home to the people who love them.
That’s what I told Dave before he bought Bear and Chief, and they live that truth every day – meaningful work guarding 300 chickens and a small herd of cattle and a happy, fun life being adored by Dave and his wife, Susan. I hope all of my Maremma pups are lucky enough to find such wonderful homes.
What to do When Your Dog Isn’t Who You Expected
What actually works is looking at the dog in front of you — not the dog you expected, not the dog your first Maremma was, not the “perfect” puppy out of the pair you bought, not the dog some stranger on the internet insists she should be — and figuring out what she needs.
I didn’t want an expert escape artist. I definitely didn’t want three near-heart-attacks in one week. But I got a dog who needed to run, and now we have a ritual I genuinely look forward to every evening. If I’d spent all my energy being frustrated that Lia wasn’t easy, I’d have missed this completely. (And honestly — I probably should have seen it coming. I named her after a runaway princess. She’s just living up to the name.)
If you’ve got a young Maremma Sheepdog pushing every button you own right now, I promise — it’s usually a phase, not a life sentence. They all grow up eventually. And sometimes the thing that’s driving you crazy is pointing you straight at the thing your dog actually needs.
This is really the whole idea behind the DIAL Method® — the framework I recommend to my own puppy families. It’s not about training your dog to obey. It’s about understanding what’s actually driving their behavior so you can work with it instead of against it. If Lia’s story sounds familiar, it might be worth 40 minutes of your time — check out the DIAL Method® here.
 | $50.00 The Dial Method® – Understanding Your Livestock Guardian DogStop Guessing. Start Understanding Your Livestock Guardian Dog.
A 40-minute science-based program that helps you work… Read more |
And if you’re in the thick of a hard stretch with your own LGD and could use a second set of eyes, I offer one-on-one training consultations — schedule a call here.
I’d love to know — do you and your LGD do anything a little “non-traditional”? Something that breaks the unwritten rules of what a livestock guardian dog is “supposed” to do, but works beautifully for the two of you anyway? Hit reply and tell me about it. I read and respond to every reply, and I might just feature your story in a future email.
Talk soon,
Kim
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