Yup, 5:55 is apparently the designated hour for Bessie to announce that she’s awake and that I should be as well. It goes like this: I hear the dreaded sound of her standing up and shaking, her dewlaps and ears flapping and her collar jangling, and then the determined footfalls as she makes her way directly to my bedside. There, she takes a jubilant leap in an attempt to get to me. I push her back down gently by the chest. She jumps back up. I push her back down. I get up. At that hour, I don’t greet her or otherwise reward her for waking me up, but we just go quietly down the back till she does her business. This morning she really had to, and luckily did so efficiently so I was back in bed for a one-and-a-half more z’s.
You can tell there’s a spoiled baby in the house. Look at all her loot.
I called back Metro Dog, that daycare place to which I’d sent an application. The owner, an expert in dog behavior who is struggling to keep her business alive in this pandemic, said that as much as she’d like to have me as a customer, she wants to wait till Bessie is more settled. She had concerns about the shyness and trauma I’d described in the paperwork, and even though Bessie is doing better now, the recommendation was to give it a couple more weeks. I thought that sounded wise. So I won’t get to doggy- and temperament-test her before the trial is up, which is too bad.
Bessie super-needs a bath, and a nail-clipping, but I canceled her grooming session for next week. Thinking about what the Metro Dog person told me about adjustment periods, I decided it would be too traumatic to take Bessie in the car and leave her with a strange man who will torment her and then crate her till she dries. I’ll see what she thinks of the backyard hose in two days (on my birthday), when her stitches should be healed. Her first separation from me will come when I take her to the vet on June 8.
I don’t know what I’ll decide about Bessie. She has her behavioral challenges but she’s a sweetie in a lot of ways. On my application form I’d said that separation anxiety would be a deal-breaker. But I still want to give her a chance. I hope it’ll work out. She deserves someone better than me!
I feel that she, however, has already made up her mind. A contented pup
! Imagine that separation anxiety can be dealt with, with time, as the Metro lady implies. Everything is very new to her, at this point.
Who in the world could be better than you? Seriously.
Thank you, Small and Lila.
Wow! It has been 8 days! Bessie is quite the communicator.
Time, time, time, honey needs time.
She’s so cute!
That sounds wise about the groomer and daycare things. Perhaps you could try washing her yourself, three square inches per day.
I love her little ears, still!
Happy birthday, Ginna of the journal!
I found the picture of you standing behind me with a holstered Ruger revolver — on your own blog!
That’s Exhibit A in the commitment hearing, if you ever want to retire to the Purple Haze Rest Home. (We’ll save you a rocker on the front porch, where we listen to The Rolling Stones and play Qwirkle till the stars set.