Got up to walk him. the room thick with rescue doggy smell. still foggy out. he doesn't pee and i can see from his point of view that outside, inside, it all has hard floors and noise, just one's a little colder and, what's that? his ears perk and he looks up. Birds. Okay, one has birds.
Tail down, we walk. the patch of succulents under my tree, the place that other dogs find so tempting and that infuriates me when a leaf is broken off, the redwood chips scattered onto the street and sidewalk - i now lead him too it. Poop! Pee! kick the redwood chips! he does none of this, doesn't seem to think it's anyting special.
He paces the room From window to door and I see it his life suddenly life a series of boxes for, this room to that room to th back porch tooth estreet. All ages until he saw insider
Mthat he was free
How to housetrain a damaged dog? Who cowers and runs at a sharp sound a sudden move toward him. For awhile I give up. Let him pee. It's clean-up-ble. I feel something release inside me. I'm a neat freak, i like eveything in order, but now the house smells like old dog, there is a Yellow drip on bed leg. Who cares. It washes. The room smells like scared dog. How quickly my own boundaries change never thinning that the porch qualified as outside but now praising him as he lands a poop. Then cries a little as he shuffles around trying to get rid of it all. Upset stomach clearly and I hovering nearby unsure, weighing praise with his propriety that apologetic look all animals have when they are pooping even humans.
I scare him by trying to pet him and he snaps just a little - the reaching for him or touching him scared him. I just want to love y I say burying my face into his neck scratching him there hoping he sees it that way too and not just as a human way too close too near.
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