Samone may not think so, given her opinion of meal options here at the B&B, but she is to me, a small example of Fate. Sometimes we end up in the same place, regardless of what path we choose to take.
Last week was an exercise in failed attempts, foiled plans, and dashed expectations. Back in January Alexis at the Penny Foundation put word out that she was ready to get four or five little dogs from LA to emigrate to Canada. Christy and Katya were on board with the plan, but it had to be put off until they came back from their scheduled vacations. Once they returned, the machine of Saving Dogs came to life. Katya lined up dogs, Christy lined up fosters, and Alexis lined up plane tickets and transports on her end.
The first email I received was on Wednesday. Samone was one of the first pups pulled to head to Canada and was in a foster home, but it wasn't working out. The foster said Samone wasn't getting along with her other dog. Samone also was recuperating from kennel cough and had a tooth infection.
I admit it: I'm gun shy now when it comes to animals with ailments. One trauma was enough for my entire lifetime, and I just can't deal with going through that again. Emotional issues: not a problem. I'll take scared, terrified, dog-hating, people-fearing, don't-give-a-crap-what-you're-telling-me-to-do kind of dogs any day. But a dog that is ill... I just can't do it without a 100% guarantee of complete recovery. Christy assured me Samone was fine and would recover, and was just about done with her meds. So I said yes, but that I'd be gone all day Sunday so I'd need a dog sitter for the day.
Thursday morning Christy emailed me to say that her co-worker would be taking Samone Friday night, since fostering a dog that has already been in a home is a little easier than right out of the shelter, and she wanted to leave me open for that scenario.
Thursday afternoon, I got that scenario. A Lhasa Apso at East Valley needed to be picked up and fostered. I said yes, again (even though in all honesty, I'm not a big fan of the breed. They always appear pissed off to me, but I'm willing to give the dog a chance). The shelter closed at 4 that day, so plans couldn't be made to pick her up immediately, but since she was headed to a different foster, Christy had that foster also pick her up. Again, no dog for Stephanie.
Friday: I get an email asking if I would be willing to take a slightly larger dog. Of course; I'm not size-ist. As long as they fit in my passenger seat, I'll take whomever. There was a Golden Retriever at East Valley that Alexis thought she could get a home for in a heartbeat. Alexis called first thing Saturday morning, and found out another rescue already had dibs on her.
So, with no one left and all dogs accounted for, I spent Sunday drinking to my heart's content and watching the game. And of course, holding my friend's little long-haired Chihuahua on my lap, since with all the talk of dogs, I was craving a little canine time.
Monday morning I got yet another email: Samone had been at her new foster home for only two days before they came to the conclusion that the foster's husband was allergic to her. They had had other foster dogs, so no one's sure why this one in particular caused issues. I assume it's what an allergist once told me: Most people aren't allergic to dogs; they're allergic to whatever the dog has rolled in.
And Samone likes to roll in stuff. She's the kind of dog that finds that teeny tiny morsel of something extravagant (ant hill, drop of dog pee, particularly fragrant blade of grass), and dives into it head first, like a cartoon animal diving into an eight ounce glass of water. I did notice she had was particularly fragrant herself, and would have given her a bath except for her trust issues.
I said I didn't mind emotionally messed up dogs, so I guess this is what the Fates decreed for me. Granted when you're only a foot tall and weigh in at twelve pounds, you probably should be a bit cautious around new creatures: human, dog, squirrel, etc. But Samone takes it a bit too far. I noticed her haunches had some mats in the fur, and was going to relieve her of those, but she disagreed with a yip, a lunge, and a pull back. That's proper etiquette, so I couldn't condemn her for that. She didn't bite me; she let me know she would if I pursued any further. So didn’t.
I had used the harness on her (the harness I had used for Harry fit her perfectly--I didn't even need to adjust it) in the car without a problem and put it on her a few times to take walks. But Tuesday evening, she had had enough and warned me of such. I thought maybe I had gotten a tuft of fur caught in the clip when I snapped it, but checked it and hadn't. When we returned from our evening walk, she had an all out freak-out attack when I tried to unbuckle the harness. I asked her where it hurt, and started feeling around, but I couldn't find anything wrong. I gently touched her foot.
"Does that hurt?"
Without looking at me, she yipped again. Really?
I call Bullshit.
Dogs of this size have two ways to go when they don't trust the world around them: get a Napoleon complex, or play the victim and hope their attacker has a conscience. Samone took the latter approach. It took a good fifteen minutes of her lying on her side trying to sneak away while groaning and yipping as if I was slowly killing her in order for me to unclasp the harness.
Yesterday I took back up the harness and sat next to her. I just clipped and unclipped it, allowing it to make the noise, and she ever so subtly slunk away from me. She wouldn't even look at it. When I placed her on my lap, forcing her to watch the clip make the noise, she squirmed away.
Much like my belief that step one in training a dog is to get the dog to care what you actually think of him, step one to a peaceful and easy relationship with a dog is gaining trust. She trusts me to some extent. She'll easily pass out next to me, leaning on my leg. She even trusts that I'll return if I walk out the door and doesn't make a big deal about me leaving, but is happy to see me come back. But she doesn't yet trust that if she does something wrong that I won't hurt her. And that makes me sad. How could anyone beat this frail little dog? What kind of soulless creature could harm this delicate being on purpose?
I had put her on the bed the first night and she slept easily next me. Not at the end of the bed, or even up by the pillow, just next to my leg, using my thigh like the back of a couch. So Wednesday night, when I was preparing for bed time, I wasn't surprised that she knew what I was doing, but I was surprised by her enthusiasm about it.
Before I even had time for the thought to cross my mind as a possibility, Samone leapt up and scaled the side of the bed, landing three feet above the floor. Had a human achieved such a proportional leap, they would be a superhero. Samone is not a superhero, or even that hearty and sturdy of a dog. So I rushed over to her, not so much to admonish her (but kind of) but to tell her to not do that again because I didn't want her to fall and crack her head open. However, before I could even get those words out, she assumed I was going to crack her head open, and cowered on the bed, rolled over, and looked apologetic. Poor kid.
But she's learning to trust; or, perhaps, I'm earning her trust. Yesterday morning when I got out of the shower, I looked over on the couch, assuming that was where she would be, only to find the living room empty. I stuck my head in the bedroom to discover that she had again leapt a large bed in a single bound and was curled up next to my pillow (in the small one foot by one foot area NOT covered by the dog blanket of course). She certainly is making herself quite at home here.
Samone will be taking off to Canada on Saturday morning, probably just in time for me to have fully earned her trust. Six hours after I leave her, she will land in a whole different country, meet many new people, and have to go through this all over again. I feel bad that she has to do that. The more relaxed she gets with me, the more I am enamored of this little stubborn girl. Her picky palette, her groaning every time I blow my nose (I acquired not just Samone, but a cold this week), and her yawns that she feels the need to vocalize in a crescendo are all endearing. She probably has good reason to be fearful of the world around her. She lives in a world of giants. But once you earn her trust, you finally get to know Samone, a giant of a personality, in an extra-long low rider princess body.
Whatever home Miss Samone ends up in, I have no doubt it will be exactly where she's supposed to be. False starts, bad timing, delayed flights won't matter; any path she takes will lead right where the Fates need her to be.
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