We've had vague discussions about getting another dog, we debate a bit about the sort of dog, usually it's agreed that it would be a big dog, a golden retriever or a lab, something more easy and independent, something that would be a nice calm friend to Tigger. Inevitably the conversation ends with us both agreeing that Tigger likes being an only dog, he's not lonely and he doesn't really care for other dogs as it is.
And yet as I type, there is another dog in our house. Not a lab, not a golden, nothing big and peaceful. And, I wish I knew how it happened, I wish I could blame someone or tell a good story about a dog showing up on the doorstep. I wish I could say it was a spontaneous decision, made in haste. But it wasn't really.
I saw her on petfinder.com and was drawn to her because she looks just like Tigger. Not because of her breed characteristics, not because she seemed like she'd fit well in our home. It was nothing more complex than the rather large ears and very curly tail. I went to see her on Boxing Day (who would have thought the shelter would be open on a stat holiday?), talked to the people at the shelter, heard about her 'issues'. She was dumped somewhere and then lived on the streets in Richmond for a while. I heard how it took two seasoned animal control officers to contain her (I remembered hearing it but clearly that comment was not fully absorbed into my psyche). Then we talked about how she looks like Tigger. Next day took Tigger back to meet her. He was disinterested, everyone took that as a good sign.
Took her home, tried to take her collar off, almost got my hand ripped off. Scott tried to take her collar off (he's a 'dog person' and somehow thought he had a 'bite-exemption'), then spent several minutes trying to stop the bleeding from the many open wounds on his hand. Tigger mostly just looked annoyed at the interloper.
After several days of trauma and drama and Tigger being extremely stressed and needy, I was willing to admit defeat. Little Holly in her undersized fleece coat that she would not allow to be removed, looked like a skittish racehorse with the ferocity of a deranged pit bull. I felt like I'd made a colossal mistake, a poorly thought out decision that was ruining my vacation time and damaging poor Tigger. I called the shelter and said it wasn't working out, I told them I couldn't keep her, I was afraid of her and Tigger was upset and I'd made a mistake. They told me to bring her back. I put her ugly little bed and holey blanket on the couch and went to get her papers. When I came back to get her she was curled up in the bed, a tiny little five pound bundle of innocence. She looked up at me with her sad eyes and I felt like she was asking me for another chance, I reached down to pat her head, she bared her teeth and snapped at me again. Defeated I sat on the couch not knowing what to do. Called to tell Scott she was going back to the shelter, he encouraged me to give her another chance, a few more days and he was certain she'd get better.
Here we are a week later, she still scares me but she's not wearing the horse coat anymore and she will let me put her collar on. Tigger is getting used to her, she digs her nose in his ears and likes to lick his eyes. He growls at her if she goes to far, like attempting cirque de soleil moves by trying to stand on his back as he walks by 'her' couch. Just this morning, I thought I'd try putting a sweater on her, she let me put it over her head I praised her, gave her a treat, and then she told me that I'd gone too far by biting me when I tried to get her legs in the holes. 1/2hour later she's still mad, I sit down beside her and she wrinkles up her nose, then raises her lip to show me her sharp teeth. I'm still learning.
