BLASCO'S DOC HOLLIDAY (PEDIGREE)
IDCR# IDC1283M; NKC# NKC14-900468350
HEIGHT AT WITHERS: 27 1/2"
WEIGHT: 115 LBS.

Here at 13-weeks, Doc is looking up at the window above. Note the thick, protruding brisket, straight, solidly developed pasterns, the tight toes, the difinitive stop right before his eyes and the already developing cheek muscles. This is going to be a well put together dog - what they used to call, "well knit."

Fellow American Bulldog breeders, Mastiff and Bullmastiff breeders, when was the last time you saw such a robust 13-week old puppy?

American Bulldogs are natural protection dogs, just treat them right...

At 13-weeks, he stood up to calmly guard his sleepy-head brother. I told him, "good boy, Doc dog," soft and gentle, always with a calm voice. People will take a young dog like this and stress, teaze and agitate him, trying to "raise his aggression." They may end up with a dog that will protect them (maybe wherever they're selling crack), but if he cannot trust you, his master, he will never be trustworthy. I'm talking to some of you here, so listen up.

It's a simple formula: Treat the dog like a baby bunny for about 18-months teaching peace, calm and love. Google nurture, find the longest definition and DO THAT. Teach him obedience, but be gentle; he's a baby. Play tug and teach him to release whatever is in his mouth on command. Your dog will defend the peace you've taught him. He will protect you using that same confidence you've taught him with your gentleness. If he cannot be confident around you, he cannot be confident for you. With a confident, young adult dog, begin protection work if that is your desire. Now you'll have a fearless, happy and stable friend, not just a biting machine.

A Good Growth Diet

This is Doc at about 16-months. He's a little fat here, only a little as you really can't make Doc fat even trying to. I like all our dogs with obvious extra weight on them for the first two years, ensuring available calories for growth spurts. Vets often disagree. People who follow my advice on my dogs tend to see bigger, healthier, more robust and vibrant dogs than those who choose the Vet's more random advice instead. We feed them 50% dry, 27% protein dog food and 50% unslated, non-greasy people food, with lots of heavy whipping cream aka table cream (not whipped cream). The dog's ribs should have a nice flesh cover, with bellies not distended, but also not well tucked. Our dogs have much better legs than most Mastiffs, thus joints are not at risk. Unsalted, HEALTHY and non-greasy human food, along with cream, presents no risk of hypoglycemia or diabetes. A healthy, active dog has no risk of developing heart problems do to heavier feeding in the first two years of life. Our dogs have won this debate repeatedly and yours will too if you believe me. Feed your dog... a lot.

This is Doc under two years old. Doc is a very lovely boy who only ever aims to please.

Doc is now 115 pounds, 27.5" at the shoulders, 23" head; straight feet and toes; perfectly balanced, square and highly athletic.

An American Bulldog is a defender of the weak; he cares most for the small and the defenseless - like lambs, puppies, baby chicks, my wife... like our kids.

Lilly and Doc tend to puppies, neither of them being the parents. They are standing in for Bella as she takes a break from having her nipples chewed on by little needle-sharp teeth. Never having had puppies herself at this point, Lilly nonetheless produced milk and did not simply dry-nurse Bella's puppies. Doc arrived just moments later to assume his position guarding Lilly and the puppies while Bella was gone. He stood there like that for over three hours without moving. When Bella again returned, Doc walked away with his own nipples bleeding from dozens of puppy bites. Not himself producing milk, the puppies tried extra hard to get it - way harder than they would have otherwise. Doc paid it no mind. This is what you can expect from our dogs, unusual acts of selflessness and loyalty to the pack - the pack being everyone in the household, humans most especially.

Doc is like a big piece of Silly-Putty™ to my kids. He just doesn't care what they do to him for fun, as long as they're having fun and he's involved. Here, Doc under a year old doing what he loves best: Playing with the kids. Sorry for the camera glare giving him that other-worldly-look. For those who need the assurance, my dog is not in fact looking into the deepest recesses of your soul... though he does fly and spew poison gas if you feed him left over Mexican food. Don't do that.

Here's the first of three pics of Doc taken from outside his yard. Doc and Mambo work in shifts, taking turns guarding the back door and windows.

In these three shots, Doc is standing on his dog house, looking over the fence out into the large park behind our house. Doc likes to watch the people passing by.

...And Doc watches some folks a little closer than others. Here, as I'm taking the pictures, some men were walking through the park behind me. When they turned to come a little closer to me, they received Doc's narrowed gaze.

Doc is calm, confident, highly proactive in his human relationships, not typically under foot, but always there and active in our day-to-day lives - a gentleman companion. Doc has a complexity of relationships, interacting with each person or pet differently. With strangers Doc is consistent and it's purely situational. Meet him on his driveway and get too close to his people, he'll threaten you in memorable fashion. Meet him while we're at PetSmart, you could walk up and pet him. Try to perform violence anywhere and Doc will send better parts of you home in a plastic bag. Doc is a stable, safe in public, protection dog, the real deal, just like his daddy, just like his grand daddy - a dog with an opinion you will adhere to. Beware of dog.

For those who have asked to see a little bit of the working side of Doc, well, you're sure to enjoy these...

What you're going to see if you watch his face and body language is Doc's instantaneous morphology into and out of protection mode. Not pictured are friend Bob and his photographer daughter, Jessica. For these shots Jessica stood in front of Doc shooting pictures while Bob stood behind Jessica making motions as if to abduct her. Doc, never having met Bob or Jessica automatically seeks to protect Jessica.

Here Doc approaches Bob and Jessica. He's happy to meet them.

Now Doc sees Bob behind Jessica beginning to act in a mildly threatening manner at a distance. Doc notes this and watches Bob closely.

Bob has stepped a bit closer to Jessica and Doc begins to alert her, "hey, there's a big guy creeping up behind you, little girl! Hey big guy, I see you stalking her!"

Now Bob is right behind Jessica continuing his "sneaky" behavior and Doc goes on full alert. He's not pulling hard, just a slight tug at the leash, but he wants to get between the young girl and the ominous man. He's saying, "You better back off, buddy; you're not getting her on my watch!"

Bob disobeys Doc's warning and Doc seeks to drive himself between man and girl. If he was off leash at this point, he'd have pushed Bob 10-15 feet back, he'd be on his back legs in Bob's face and if Bob so much as twitched in a threatening manner, Doc would instantly snatch him and drive him into the ground. On leash he's leaning into it a bit, but I can easily hold him with one hand - though Doc can easily drag me like a rag doll. Doc respects my leash, but he's conflicted because until I tell him otherwise, he's also got a job to do.

Now Bob has actually grabbed Jessica and Doc has decided this human needs to be upside down screaming for help. Doc is charging against the leash because Bob is a confirmed threat and he's committed to put him down. Off leash the position Doc is in here would be immediately followed by Doc flying through the air, grabbing Bob by the neck, shoulder, leg or groin and smashing him into the ground, to be followed by a good shaking if Bob did anything more aggressive than laying there in full submission, hands open, empty and in sight. Doc really wants a piece of Bob right now. Looks pretty angry, huh?

Here's Doc about one second after I recalled him, Bob still behaving threateningly towards Jessica, the "danger" still present, Doc still watching with detached interest as one human seems about to kill another. Get it? That's the off switch, the recall. When I called him back he was no longer conflicted. He knows I accept Bob's threatening behavior so he accepts it too. In maybe 30 more seconds you could put a stethoscope on him to listen to his heart, and you'd find the Doc-dog totally at rest.

And here's the only reward necessary. Good boy, Doc.

Blasco's Doc Holliday, the beautiful Doc-dog, died unexpectedly November 28, 2013, Thanksgiving Day. Doc was 6 1/2 years old, healthy as a horse, and died, victim of a dental related stroke. He had a previously unknown abscess that had channeled upward into his brain. His breath had been stinking for weeks, and I blame myself for not checking his gums more closely - maybe if I'd pressed hard I'd have found some tenderness. Watch for such things in your dogs. They rarely complain.

Our son, John, found Doc out in the yard when he went out to feed the dogs. He came into my office tearfully, yet bravely contained and under control, to tell me our Doc-dog was dead. John is thorough and sure in his dog assessments, never making such mistakes, so it was true for me from the moment I heard my little boy's words. I was immediately crushed by the loss, and could barely speak. I knelt there holding John for a time, as we realized together that our unreserved tears were the correct manly response for such family tragedy. We went out together, John and I, and I found my Doc laying peacefully in the snow under a tree. His sister, belly-mate and best dog-friend, Lilly sat by his side, as broken hearted as a dog can be. When I arrived, she pawed at Doc helplessly, nosed him and looked at me imploringly - wanting me to fix him, but he was gone.

For his entire life Doc was our favorite. Some of the warmest and happiest dog memories Maria, Abi, Kat and John have, came from time spent playing and goofing around with Doc. My kids grew up learning about the depth of relationship possible between humans and dogs, from Doc. He played with them for hours on end, tolerating all forms of little kid abuse happily. Doc loved the kids dearly. He was their focused, ever watchful and overwhelmingly fierce protector, their friend, and playmate.

A stranger trying to touch one of the kids was sure to find his elbow in Doc's mouth, ready to be snapped should they choose not to comply with the obvious. Yet Doc was gentle like few big dogs are able to manage, and ever ready and willing to play - even when Maria would wake him from a dead sleep, for a sudden game of bite n' fight. When we adopted Maria, Doc was the first dog to accept her, and he saw her from day one as one of our kids. He specifically commanded all the other dogs to instantly accept her as well, and they obeyed him. That was sort of a big deal. We have a few dogs that won't accept anyone outside their family, yet Doc set the tone, and there was no issue whatsoever bringing Maria into our pack.

Doc was that ancient dichotomy of working Mastiff bred dogs - warrior, fearing not man, nor beast, nor devil from hell, yet sweet and gentle to family and friends, even tolerant of many strangers. It was easy to forget he was a tornado of horror against an aggressor.

To the left, that's Doc just being playful, in his last ever game of bite 'n fight with Maria just a week or so before Thanksgiving. She teased him until he chased her up onto the roof of my truck, then keeps her there, daring her to climb down. When she does, he'd never harm her, all just a game between friends.

For Rebecca, Doc was ever vigilent, and assumed the role of "dog husband" whenever I was out of town. He would sleep, laying as a blockade in the master bedroom doorway, allowing him a direct view of the front door and the stairs, guarding Rebecca as she slept. He would patrol the house, checking windows and doors, and if Rebecca heard a bump in the night and got a little nervous, Doc never needed to be called, but was always there with her, proactive, loyal and committed to protect, and to reassure her.

Doc was ready 24/7 for come-what-may, good or bad - a game of chase with the kids, a sudden protection scenerio with strangers acting as "home invaders," or to ride shotgun providing real life protection when someone went to the store - whatever. Doc was always happy and filled with joy, just to be included.

To me, Doc was my buddy, my top dog, and the dog I loved most, who I would often lay with in the morning petting as I woke up. Anytime I was home and Doc was in the house, he could be found within a few feet of me, half asleep, half awake and watchful. In all his life, there was never - not one single time, a visitor that Doc didn't know had arrived before they reached the door, never a time he didn't want to play, never a grumpy growl or impatient sigh, never one time I needed to call him twice... and a gentle, tolerant pack leader of small puppies.

In his life, Doc and his sister Lilly once confronted a full grown young lion at our back door, and chased it off, the lion running in terror, the dogs close on his heels.

Doc protected humans twice in two real life encounters with human aggressors. On one occasion, a man became violent in his dealings with me, and Doc drove him instantly to his back on the pavement, 115 pounds of white lightning slammed like a war hammer into his chest from above, leaving the man dazed, confused, in terror and newly conformed, to more acceptable social standards. Yet Doc did not leave a tooth or claw mark on the man, just a bit of drool, and a cut on the back of his head, where the fellow had landed.

On another occasion, Doc cordoned off an area of about 60 feet, from a group of eight young adult gangbangers I confronted one night, painting graffiti on the next door neighbor's fence. They approached me confidently making threats when challenged, and Doc was like a blur and a roaring fury as he drove them back, stumbling over their own feet to get away, and crying out fearfully, "Mister, get your dog! Please get your dog!" They never tagged that fence again, and they called me "sir" from that day on, never laughing too loud, or acting too proud, when walking by my house for the rest of the time we lived there. I certainly didn't require that of them, I guess it was just their natural response having met Doc.

Our Doc-dog was the perfect canine family guardian, and the quintessential American Bulldog. We loved him more deeply than words can convey. If you have never loved a dog as we did Doc, you're missing something in life. He was a loyal and selfless sentry, friend of man, dutiful caretaker and protector of the weak, and he has earned his medals if God awards such things. We bid our baby Doc-dog good bye for a time, and we know that heaven is a more interesting place now that he's home, waiting faithfully by the gates for us... and likely pissing on something he's not supposed to.

We love you Doc-dog. Sorry you didn't get the rib cage from this year's turkey. Your boy Nacho looked pretty darned confused when we gave it to him instead.

Blasco's Doc Holliday is survived by his son, Blasco's Nacho Libre, and three litters of puppies. One litter was to a friend's Dogue de Bordeaux female, and we believe all of those dogs (following the more popular politically correct silliness of our time) were fixed and made unbreedable by their owners. What a loss... Another litter, as of December 11, 2013, is nursing off their mother in my living room. Their mother, Rena, is half Dogue de Bordeaux, and half Doc's mother, Blasco's Kay Bella, making the puppies 3/4 hybrid type American Bulldog, and 1/4 Dogue de Bordeaux. Rena's sister and belly-mate Sarah Belle, owned by our friend Nick Sickinger is also pregnant with Doc puppies. We have high hopes for all of them. Rena's puppies are all looking big and meaty, with lots of energy and drive, but of course there's no hope of ever truly getting a replacement for Doc. When a good dog dies, he leaves a hole in your life, and there is no salve or human remedy to heal the wound, but the faith and the hope that you'll see him again, touch his face, and have him nuzzle your hand. So goes Blasco's Doc Holliday, onward to wherever God takes true dogs of valor and gentle spirits. May it be our own final destination as well.

Good boy, Doc. We will always love you.