Oh, she won’t have any separation anxiety. She’s very relaxed and will just wait by the door for you, the former-Dusty’s foster mom assured me. So why, after I went out to the backyard for literally a minute to scoop up Bessie-droppings, did I come back to find that fifty pounds of mutt had jumped from the floor to a chair to the top of her huge crate and then on up to my sewing table, and was looking anxiously out the window for me?
On the bright side, she made it through another night without an accident, and spent most of it in the (open) crate. I have a feeling she’s not a candidate for crating while I’m gone, but I can hope, and try. When I got up at 5:45 and then returned to bed, she started thumping her tail and whining for me, but I ignored her, and she did stop. But five minutes later, our day began nonetheless, with an immediate and successful visit to the back yard. She’s doing the steps much better now. When it suits her.
She wants to spend most of her time outside now, instead of under my bed. Today she seems happier all ’round: more playful and (for better or worse) more energetic.
You can still see her surgical scar. This is the first time that she fully exposed her belly to us.
She’s also getting a little more demanding of attention. She was quiet the first few days, but now she sometimes yelps or whimpers when she’s not getting it constantly enough. That has to stop. I’ve given her so much encouragement and love these last five days that she’s already getting spoiled. I can’t maintain this pace of constant reassurance, nor does she need it any more.
Now she’s asleep in the sandbox again.
Look at that BELLY and that goofy little face! How lovely to see her opening up more and more.
The incision, plus the healing teats, must still be uncomfortable. I bet the sand feels nice and cool against them.