Four months ago, we drove half a day to adopt our companion dog, Tess. These are the first pictures we saw of her, that convinced us she belonged in our family:
She looked so scared, and the description confirmed she was desperately shy and afraid, clearly the victim of mistreatment. But I knew that meant she was sensitive, and her eyes showed a watchful intelligence that immediately caught our attention. She was definitely the girl for us.
So we planned our trip, and drove across state lines. We were both nervous and excited, but when we first met her, it was clear her anxiety rivaled ours. She'd obviously never (or rarely) been in a car, and went rigid as we all tried to help her in. And then she sat in the backseat, huddled and trembling, as we began the long drive home.
We'd known it would take time and consistency, and that was ok. She eventually fell asleep as we drove, and after awhile, we pulled over at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. She was able to go to the bathroom with the help of a borrowed leash and collar, and seemed to be ok walking around. Still scared, of course, but it appeared she was gradually adjusting to our presence and the realization we wouldn't hurt her.
Then, panic hit. As we approached an enclosed picnic area, she got incredibly spooked by the bars--and frantically twisted and turned until the leash flew out of my hand.
Yanked to my knees in the struggle, I watched in dismay as my husband sprinted across the parking lot after her...but she was so much faster than we could ever hope to be. I thought it was hopeless, to be perfectly honest. I thought she was gone, just as soon as we got her. But thankfully she darted toward a small cluster of people, the only others nearby, and an older woman was able to grab the leash for us. Tess dove under some bushes and immediately curled up, shaking all over, and we sat and spoke to her until I was able to pick her up and carry her back to the car.
It was devastating. I was terrified it might happen again, and the moment we passed through a town we purchased a "no pull" harness and industrial strength collar and leash set. Even so, we were still shaken. We had a long drive to go, and obviously needed to let her out to go to the bathroom. What if she bolted again...?
It turned out we didn't have to worry. Our suspicion that she was smart was a correct one--she adapted like gangbusters, and showed more confidence with every stop we made. By the halfway mark, she was walking on the leash with little difficulty, only startled if there was an unexpected noise. Fortunately, the harness definitely did the trick, and made both of us feel more secure. We were even able to take her to an enclosed (and fortunately empty) dog park. Sure, she hid under a picnic table for most of it--but by the end she was trotting around, pleased with all the praise she was receiving.
I wish I had more footage of her behavior from that first week, but she progressed faster than either of us could have anticipated. I just didn't realize how quickly her fear would dissolve. By all rights, she had every reason to stay afraid--but once the trip was over, she immediately grew comfortable in our home. When we went outside she often walked in a squat with her tail hung low, but she was still able to find security indoors, with her bed and toys.
And we hadn't seen anything yet.
Pretty soon she began acting like the puppy she is, wrestling with her kong and demanding playtime and affection. Within a few short weeks she transformed from a timid, slinking animal to a rambunctious companion who was clearly invigorated by her new situation. Her confidence soared, and we were able to begin training much sooner than we expected. Thankfully, her fear of enclosures seemed to have vanished, and she quickly adapted to her crate/den (not to mention any challenges we threw her way).
She's currently sleeping soundly on the couch behind me, and even as I write this, it's hard to really recall what she was like when we first met her. She's changed so much in these past months. Now she lives for her daily walks, nap and cuddle time, wrestling and playing "tag" with my husband and I, and her own special version of fetch (which is mostly her tossing the ball to herself, then kicking it like a soccer player--whatever works!).
I can't explain how grateful I am that we found her, and that we didn't lose her on that day at the rest stop. I've teased her about it since--"Oh, spoiled girl. Remember when you RAN AWAY from us??" -- as she squirms around, scratching her back on the carpet, or chases us with a ferocious gleam in her eye. But that time is long past. Really, the proof of her devotion is obvious; one of her favorite parts of the day is meeting my husband as he comes home from work. The moment she spots him in the distance, she'll start tugging and rushing and urging me forward as fast as she can, occasionally giving a long excited howl. And the moment he's near, we all collapse into a pile of hugs and kisses. I wouldn't be surprised if we were notorious in our neighborhood. Her enthusiasm knows no bounds.
I can only imagine how she will change and grow over the next year, and I know there will be a lot of laughter as she gets into new mischief and figures out new things. And no matter what's going on in our hectic human lives or our crazy human world, she will still find things to be happy about, every single day.
I'm sure all you animal lovers know what I mean. They simply make life more complete.
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