What is the well known admonishment? You can't change someone's behavior, but you can change your reaction toward it? I'll be working on that today.
Henry had a late night of agitated barking. My calm as pie pup who had issued no howl or woof all day long, let it out starting at around 10, when once again there were comings and goings out in the hallway. It lasted until 12:30 -- the time the last person left an apartment across the way from mine.
I could tell that Henry was agitated. I'd turned out the lights already but he would not, could not settle down. And he kept coming to my bedside, putting his paws up on it, licking my hand -- not typical behavior for him at all. Was he looking for reassurance, or giving reassurance to me? I honestly can't tell. I was really tempted to let him come up on the bed (it is the one place where I do not allow him and he is scrupulous in following my rules here), so that I could stroke him, rub his tummy, calm him down. But I knew it would be a mistake. In the long run he'd stay with me in the bed but would not be reassured by it. Evening prowling out in the hallway puts him on alert and I doubt I can make that go away in one act or one day or even as the trainer said -- in the 6 months I am to be here still.
At the same time, I do have great sympathy for the innocent people in my building (even for my upstairs neighbors, who right on cue, resumed sex last night, though mercifully it was very brief, possibly because it had been so long...). People are allowed to leave late and talk quietly in the hallways. Henry's barks, on the other hand, are loud. They bother me and I love my dog! After a day of a blissfully silent dog, I had two hours of frazzled nerves -- his and mine.
This morning, I see myself as having three choices: the fist is an already scheduled consultation with the vet. I doubt that drugging Henry for my six Edge months is the answer, but maybe? The owner of the training school thinks this is what I should do, at least for the elevator people problem, but for this late night howling too I suppose. My second answer it to proactively move out before they kick me out of here. I have to assume that they would allow me to break the lease given the problem I'm having with his noise level, though it may be that they'd want me out, but keep my rent til the end of the lease anyway. That is of course a nonstarter. I don't have that kind of money to waste. The third option is for me to stay despite notices and warnings from management that I'm sure they're writing as we speak. It's very hard to actually evict a renter under the laws we have in the state. It would take months -- perhaps enough time for my lease to run out and for me to have a place to move to. Steffi's house is available midsummer. I'm needling the person who lives there to move out sooner, but he's got a good deal going and I can't see him giving it up voluntarily.
No, the fourth option of giving Henry up is not on the table. If Henry were at all aggressive, I'd reluctantly go that route. But I know him to be exactly the opposite: loving, kind, smart, making every effort to please. I love him, he loves me. It ends there.
Were I to move out, by force , or on my own initiative, where would I go? Having Henry makes a return to the farmhouse not only unlikely but impossible. What would happen to the cats there in the dead of winter? Too, Ed loves quiet. Pancake scratching Henry's eyes out would not be a quiet scene.
Henry and I could hang out in my daughter's basement, but for many many many reasons, I'd like not to have to do that. Yes I would go there rather than pack my belongings and live in the back seat of the car, but otherwise, I need to be on my own.
Another apartment? That's just plain silly. Henry is not an apartment boy. Rent a house? I actually looked at what's out there in my price range. I would positively HATE moving to someone's house rental in the dead of winter and for only 6 months. And of course, in Madison's tight housing market, there are slim pickings.
So where do I go with this? I return to the "change my attitude," because unless I get some miracle meds into my boy, I sure am not going to change Henry in a short period of time. I need to accept that this is him now. That his fear of the unknown is part of who he is. I need to find a way to get enough sleep anyway. I need to not fret endlessly about what the neighbors will say. There are other barking dogs in the building. Perhaps equally hated. Let the people complain. They have a right to do it. I will do my best to calm him, but that is all I will do.
Henry slept later this morning. I wouldn't say it was a total zonk out until the brunch hour, but it was a good solid hour behind his normal schedule. Not surprised -- he needs his sleep just as much as I need mine.
By the time we go out, the sun is out.
It is a bitter cold day. Highs in the single digits (so -13C maybe). Henry's paws are hurting so our walk is brief.
I haven't even given him breakfast and he goes straight to the couch to rest.
My poor, tired pup.
I eat as he snoozes...
And then I take stock. We'll need to walk, but not just yet. Henry continues to rest while I process in my head these two nights of a scared puppy. Big dog that he is, he's just a puppy, trying to understand his place in this world.
We go out for some exercise at Penni Klein dog park. Initially we are alone. He does run, but he also engages me in play -- of the type for which I am a poor candidate.
I am glad when suddenly two dogs show up. The chase is on.
My pup is tired afterwards. To be expected. I use the time to prepare dinner for the young family. Henry and I are over at their place, with my dinner. And it's great to let the dogs cavort without anyone being bothered by them. Oh, the luxury of a house!
Two of the three kids (including the one who had his hair cut to meet his own scissor work) are reading, one is pretending he is one of the dogs.
Somehow the dinner conversation worked it's way to music. And singing. (And yes, that's Henry, sitting patiently and wondering if someone would throw him some food.)
None of the kids are confident singers and unfortunately it has become a vicious self-fulfilling prophecy. They mostly do not like to sing. It turns out the parents haven't given up on them. My daughter has been sporadically teaching herself guitar and she is determined to someday have the family singing.
And then she says -- you know gaga plays the guitar... We should all sing with her on the guitar. I had to laugh. Two days ago Ed had finally disposed of my guitar on Craigslist. I hadn't touched it in years -- indeed ever since I figured out that the kids don't really like to sing. My daughter wasn't deterred. You can play mine!
To say I'm rusty is sort of like saying Henry only occasionally barks. Both are true, but they hide a bigger reality. Still, I put on my cap, the one that came in the mail for me today (it says "Resist Together' -- I figured I might like it during my forthcoming travels) and we sit down to sing. Songs of peace, songs for kids, silly ones, serious ones.
And the kids join in. And it is wonderful!
At home, I am prepared for a rerun of the past two nights, though perhaps some people are working tomorrow, so they wont keep such late hours. Henry, my darling love, you need your beauty rest! As do I...
with so much love...
