Street Dog from Mexico. I’d bet my paycheck on it. She walked, talked, and kept her distance as a good street Dog would. She had slant eyes from too much sun and low-slung hips from lots of cowering. She trotted like a Coyote – slow, steady and straight ahead. I loved her. Could not touch her, could not make eye contact, could only let her sniff the back of my neck when I sat perfectly still on the corner of "HER" couch in "HER" home. So maybe it was not love-love, but it was definitely something. She carried her life’s history in her frame and in her not-so-friendly actions and her massive shedding.
Here is how our encounters went:
10:00am – I arrived to begin 48 hours of pet sitting and she made it clear this was "HER" domain, barking and claiming both ends of the couch by walking from one end to the other marking a 10’ boundary I was told not to cross or she would take her leave.
8:00pm – Ten hours later. Licked my hand. Once. One lick.
Next day @ 2:00pm was the second lick. One. 28 hours later.
4:00pm – Jumped right up on my side of the couch and put her paw on my hand. Briefly. Once. Maybe it was to ask for dinner. I don’t care. It was communication.
5:00pm fed and @ 5:30pm – Came up right in front of me, paused, looked me in the eye as if to say “thanks for dinner” and let me stroke her under the chin and a tiny bit on her chest. 31+ hours later. Who’s counting?
Then I left to join friends for dinner. Gone less than 2 hours, I returned to see everything intact. PHEW.
Wait. Huh?
Is that my pink shoe? One of my Crocs? Don’t remember leaving it out in the living room. Huh? Maybe I did. There is the other one. Hmmm, I must have.
Is that my pillow on the floor? No chew marks on anything. No slobbers. Wait. Is that another pillow from my bed? On the couch? The third blue and white pattern stood out clearly on the brown couch. Her brown couch. The three pillows and my Crocs were all dry. Not chewed. Not dirty. No idea how she could have even dragged them all through the house without getting them dirty or slobbery, finally coming to rest on her couch.
The clear and present evidence assured me our relationship was destined for great things. She loved me. We were not kissy, huggy. Yet. But definitely closer. I did not push anything. Put the pillows back on my bed. Put the Crocs on my feet. Settled in for a few hours of TV.
Later on, told her I was going to bed and I’d see her in the morning. An hour later, she jumped up on my bed and settled snugly at my side. She stayed all night. Next morning, she nudged me awake and let me rest my hand on her shoulder with only the slightest twinge. Then her belly, back, legs, body and face for a full 10 minutes. I stopped before I was asked to.
FROM THIS 
TO THIS 
What an honor. Like I was initiated into a secret world. Maybe I was. What else would we call it? When I see her again; we can pick up where we left off. Maybe I’ll bring her three pillows and a pair of Crocs. Just like she did for me. What a gift.
Progress is guaranteed. May not be on 'your' schedule... so (why not?) let them CHOOSE YOU in their own time!!
- COURAGE & TRUST - is the
go-to for any personalities like this! Ferals, 'fraidy Cats, shy Dogs, and flighty Equines TRUST us on this - we have helped 1,000's of these Type A's! B's! & C's! ;-) Ellie Laks from The Gentle Barn re-named this Remedy for us when she saw the progress with her slaughterhouse rescues: Pigs, Turkeys, veal Calves, orphaned Horses and adults rescued from 'pharmaceutical factories'. Tnx Ellie & Jay !
Comment from Judy of PetLovers Publications: Love this blog !! and I have the same findings with my Rescue Snoodle, Chance…. Last year I thought of calling him “Fang.” This year he’s turning into a lovable happy clown with only occasional “pouts."