Toby became Tobyas in our home. After all, he is a fine fellow – and a fine fellow deserves a fine name. Sometimes we also call him “His Lordship, Toby”. He earned that title, among other things, by initially refusing to go into the woods when it rained. His paws might have got dirty, after all. Maya and I were regularly less than impressed by such refinement.
But before Tobyas became a fine gentleman, travel companion, paddleboarder and occasional renovation obstructer, he had already been through quite a lot.
From Bucharest to Home
Tobyas first lived as a stray in Romania. Later, a family took him in but eventually no longer wanted to keep him. He ended up in a foster home and was brought to Germany through the charity Licht für Schattenhunde e. V.
He was described as a calm and gentle dog. That sounded like exactly the right fit for us: If we were going to bring a second dog into the home with our then eleven-year-old Princess Maya, it certainly should not be a young whirlwind who would constantly get on her nerves.
On 26 October 2024, Tobyas arrived after a journey of more than 30 hours in a transport van from Bucharest. The day before, I had been told to bring a dog crate when I collected him. He was extremely stressed and would need to be placed directly into the crate inside the van so that nothing could happen on the final leg of the journey.
I did not own a suitable crate, so at short notice I borrowed one from Bailey, my friend Bianca’s slightly smaller dog. As I had only a rough idea of Tobyas’s actual size, I was afraid it might be too small.
That concern proved unfounded. Tobyas was so thin and poorly muscled that he curled himself into a tiny ball inside it. At the time, it felt as though he could have fitted into the crate ten times over.
Once home, we first carried the crate into our home gym. That was where he could arrive in peace – separated from Maya and without any expectations. When I opened the crate, I briefly wondered whether they had really delivered a dog: He was smaller than expected, black and white like a skunk, and smelled every bit as impressive.
I placed food and water in front of the open crate, sat down some distance away with my laptop and left it up to him whether and when he wanted to come out. After about three hours, he cautiously ventured outside. He drank, approached me and allowed me to stroke him gently. After that, he never returned to the crate.
Trust Does Not Grow Overnight
During the first few days, even short walks were almost impossible. Tobyas did not dare to leave the house. On the rare occasions when we managed a few steps, the sight of a person in the distance was enough to send him into a panic. All he wanted was to get back home as quickly as possible.
Introducing him to Maya also went very differently from what we had hoped. At first, they were more like enemies than friends, and there were several serious confrontations. I sought help from a dog trainer at the Martin Rütter dog school in Wiesbaden. For a while, it genuinely looked as though we might not be able to keep Tobyas. I did not want Maya to spend her final years unhappy in her own home.
Both dogs were gradually accustomed to wearing muzzles. Maya was already familiar with one, but it was new to Tobyas. We began taking our first walks together with both dogs wearing muzzles – and that was when something started to change. The walks remained peaceful, and Maya gave Tobyas the confidence outdoors that he still lacked. She was not afraid of people, noises or unfamiliar situations. At her side, he too became braver with every outing.
At the same time, I made sure to continue spending time with each dog individually. Maya should never feel that she had suddenly become less important. Little by little, they accepted each other as members of the same pack.
From First Steps to Great Adventures
Just two months after Tobyas arrived, we spent our first holiday together in a log cabin in the Vosges. We went on many hikes there. The dog who had barely dared to step outside the front door was gradually becoming a curious and dependable companion.
In June 2025, we travelled to Finland together. The journey included a 31-hour ferry crossing. Maya already knew this kind of travel and moved around the ship with practised ease. That helped Tobyas: The noisy route through the vehicle decks, rattling chains, unfamiliar sounds, slippery floors and strong gusts of wind on the outdoor deck – he handled all of it without panicking.
At the water, too, he took his cues from Maya. At first, he was deeply suspicious of the wet element. But he saw how much she enjoyed being in and around the water and gradually grew braver. Once, he even jumped off the jetty into the water to join me and swam while I guided him back to shore.
Deep water still does not entirely appeal to him. That does not stop him from paddleboarding, though. He likes to sit on the board like the king of the lake, gazing into the distance – often even more patiently than Maya, who never enjoyed sitting still for very long.
Maya and Tobyas
Maya and Tobyas never became inseparable best friends. But they did more than simply learn to live with each other. They developed a relationship with rules of its own, mutual respect and, apparently, a remarkably precise understanding of each other’s weaknesses.
We humans probably only rarely understood exactly how they communicated with each other. They gave us one particularly memorable glimpse of it in Finland.
When we are in Finland, we humans eat liquorice by the kilo – after all, they make the best in the world there. One day, an empty bag landed unnoticed on the living-room floor. Tobyas discovered it first and began sniffing it with interest. Maya watched with obvious displeasure. Clearly, she would have preferred to get to the bag first.
After a brief pause for thought, she suddenly turned towards the hallway and front door and barked three times, as though she had heard something. Tobyas abandoned the bag at once and raced past her, barking, to investigate.
Meanwhile, Maya calmly turned her attention to the liquorice bag.
Tobyas stopped the moment he realised that he had been tricked. The expressions on their faces were priceless. Even more impressive, however, was the realisation of just how shrewdly Maya had observed and assessed her housemate.
Most of the time, Tobyas was restrained around her and allowed her to go first. In many situations, he was the more confident of the two, but he knew exactly when it was wiser to step back and avoid starting a fight.
At the same time, they complemented each other: Maya gave Tobyas confidence around people and in unfamiliar situations. Tobyas, in turn, was very assured when meeting other dogs. It was only through him that I realised how uncertain Maya sometimes was when communicating with other dogs. In those moments, she took her cues from him.
Towards the end of Maya’s life, the two of them often lay close together. I only realised how much of a bond had grown between them after her death.
We had agonised for a long time over whether we should take the seriously ill and barely mobile Maya to Spain at all. But my gut said yes – and once there, thanks to her medication, the warmth and the sunny surroundings by the sea, she truly blossomed again. Both dogs enjoyed this time together. At the same time, our close contact with the veterinary clinics treating her meant that we knew her condition could deteriorate very quickly at any time because of the aggressive tumour. When that happened, we had to let Maya go to spare her further suffering – even though we were nowhere near ready to let her go. In Spain, she was not allowed to be put to sleep at home and could only be euthanised at a veterinary clinic. Tobyas remained alone at the house – and we returned to him without Maya.
He did not understand why she had disappeared. For several weeks, he searched for her and seemed unsettled and sad. Apparently, their difficult relationship had become much more than we humans had realised.
Maya had not only helped Tobyas to feel safer outdoors, to travel and to overcome his fear of water. She had become a permanent part of his new life. And Tobyas, in his own way, had also given her support.
His Lordship, Toby
Today, very little remains of the frightened, skinny dog who tried to make himself as small as possible inside a borrowed transport crate. Tobyas hikes, travels, goes paddleboarding and accompanies me almost everywhere.
“Accompanying” can also mean watching me attentively while I sleep in the morning. Whether he finds me as adorable asleep as I find him is rather doubtful.
Sometimes it also means lying down in the middle of our renovations, directly in front of a freshly wallpapered wall – on his back, all four legs in the air and exactly where I need to continue working.
Once the work is done, he is certainly an expert at calling it a day. He lies on the sofa with his legs stretched far out and his head tipped back like an exhausted lord of the manor. All that is missing is an order to bring him a beer.
A Flat-Coated Retriever – Almost
Tobyas was introduced to us as a Flat-Coated Retriever mix. That sounded perfect, because Flat-Coated Retrievers are among my favourite breeds, and I had long dreamed of having one.
However, I soon noticed that apart from his appearance, Tobyas had surprisingly little in common with a Retriever. A DNA test confirmed my suspicions: He is a mix of, among other breeds, Taigan, Long-haired Dachshund, Pomeranian, Caucasian Shepherd Dog, Tatra Shepherd Dog, Anatolian Shepherd Dog and Broholmer – but no Retriever.
So we did not get a Flat-Coated Retriever. Instead, we got Tobyas: a cautious observer, brave travel companion, regal paddleboarder, renovation roadblock and fine gentleman with entirely his own ideas about how dirty a dog’s paws should reasonably be allowed to get.
And he is exactly right just as he is.