Oh that dog of mine! Many steps forward, a couple back. That's great progress, even if at times I have a hard time restraining myself from insisting that he continue forward. As a parent, you know to be gentle with any regression. That there is usually a reason for it. That your child can't help it. That she may be scared or uncertain. Patience is the best tool for you. A calm shrug rather than a push is so much more effective. And kind.
Why didn't I remember this with Henry?
He woke again just shy of 7. He knows I like him to hang back in the elevator. He hung back. 7 seems to be a popular time to walk your dog. He encountered two this morning. He did not bark.
Such a good boy!
I always like to finish up my morning routines before I feed him and sit down to my own breakfast. Today those routines were elongated because I had to deal with my wound (in addition to the usual shower, tidying, getting clothed -- you know the drill). The wound from my surgery is, by the way, quite impressive! Hard to believe that a small spot would require cutting my face wide open!
Henry waits.
Finally I feed the pup, myself...
I snuggle with him...
And then I have an appointment at the vet's for his flu booster.
Henry knows the clinic by now. The first time we were there he was terrified, but by the second time he accepted the staff, and thought nothing of even stepping on the scale for me.
Today, however, he got scared. He doesn't bark or growl when he is scared. He sits by the door shaking. And he cannot be budged.
Eventually, after lots of coaxing, and some subterfuge, plus a whole cup of baby food, the staff got him behind the counter, gave him his shot and handed him back to me. Great, now let me weigh him!
I am really curious about his weight. I want to know if he is growing, if I'm feeding him the right amount, if he is going to be an even bigger pooch!
Henry would not step on the scale. I tried, with treats, with baby food, with myself stepping on it. I would not give up! I used commands, persuasion, all of it. Henry just dug in. The staff moved a carpet onto the scale to make it seem like just part of the room. Nope. No go. They told me - come back another time, when he is not also getting a shot. I explained that the shot doesn't bother him, he's just scared of the place. Of being forced to do something that he doesn't quite understand. Besides, I live far away.
So I kept trying. I hoped someone would volunteer to pick him up. No one did. More coaxing on my part. Nope. He sat by the door putting all his weight into that position.
By being so insistent, I am sure I made things so much worse for him (to say nothing of the staff who were by now wishing very much that I would go away). Most likely he'll now hesitate about entering the clinic, period.
I'm not a total idiot. I did not scold or reprimand him. I was smiling and calm. Showering him with treats and praise. But my god, what got into me? Henry did not trust the scale today. Who cares that he was confident just a few weeks back? It wasn't going to work today anyway. Why not just shrug and let it go?
We went straight to doggie day care afterwards. All his favorite staff members were there. The door to the outdoor playground was wide open, because the sun was out and it is still quite the warm day (43F/6C). Typically, Henry bounds to the daycare door. Today, he went forward, but he hesitated, looking at me, wondering if there was more uncertainty ahead.
Totally my fault. I feel like the parent who blamed her child for something that wasn't really their doing. For insisting that the kid sing in the choir even though they can't carry a tune. Or swim across the pool when they're just learning to feel comfortable in deep water. Oh, I can think of too many examples of how we mismanage our expectations! What can I say -- even at 72 I am capable of making upbringing mistakes.
I spent the rest of the morning tidying the apartment because today is the day of my monthly professional cleaning. By far the biggest challenge was sweeping up the mess out on the balcony. I didn't do a perfect job, but at least I made a solid effort!
And then comes the bit of luxury -- the cleaning crew washes, dusts, vacuums, I sit at a cafe listening to the buzz around me, enjoying this moment of peace.
(Return to my apartment: now doesn't it just sparkle??)
Friday is "just Snowdrop" day. The girl no longer rushes to the car with a solid grin on her face. Nor is she eager to plunge into the details of her day. And still, rare is the day that when asked, she doesn't give me an "it was fine" answer. Sometimes I get a "great" or "good." Would she tell me were it otherwise? Maybe. Maybe not. With kids, I know not to push.
I pick up Henry at doggie daycare. He, too, appears to have had a "good" day (I'm told). As always, he is thrilled to see me. And as always, he is overexcited to be going home. He barks at a kind pet parent there to pick up her dog. He barks at the management at the Edge -- same two that made him "Pet of the Month" in December, and covered for him when he barked his head off in the first week when I left him alone. Henry, you're doing okay. I understand.
Home at last. He gives me his soppy look, eyes pleading for the love that hasn't been his to know until he came home with me.
Cabbage soup tonight. And a Henry by my side. I tell him -- I know you were scared this morning. I'm sorry. I'll do better.
with so much love...
