The scaredy dog does quite well on a leash. If you don't know that his behavior is a result of insecurity, it looks as though I have a very well behaved shepherd heeling beautifully on a loose leash. Unless he sees a person (including children) or he's surprised by a loud noise. Then the jig is up as he flies to the end of the leash in an attempt to escape the killer human.
Initially if he was not at my side during walks, he would go forward, end up perpendicular to me, realize that he was creating a collision with me and circle around back of me. I think part of his problem is not realizing how big he is and having generally poor body awareness. He may be intentionally blocking me at times out of a desire to make me turn around and go home. However, a lot of the time, when he moves forward, it's more like he suddenly realizes he's put himself outside of his comfort zone, wants to come back toward me but is only able to do so (in his mind) by coming over into my path of movement and then realizes that creates a problem and in his momentary mental quandary doesn't know what to do with his body to get out of the way. Thankfully this is improving.
On a more positive note, when he does confuse himself and ends up more on my right side than my left (the heeling side), he circles back around to my left with such consistency and certainty once he starts that course that I suspect he had some obedience training somewhere during his puppyhood. I see no reason why he would do that otherwise.
His size has garnered a couple of interesting reactions. One couple seemed to decide to take their toddler off the porch and inside when they saw me coming. A woman seemed to have told her daughter to go to the storm door to see the big dog. Upon catching sight of him, one boy of about 9 years said, "Whoooa!" Another woman picked up her barking chihuahua and now, like the couple with the toddler, puts him in and goes in herself, when she sees us coming down the street.
Nelson (or Rufus Dufus--I still haven't decided) has been fine with other dogs approaching him thus far. He's not particularly afraid of them or interested in them. However, since he's pack oriented, a lot of barking by dogs in the yards we pass makes him edgy. I avoid the worst part of the neighborhood for that sort of ruckus.
I'm pleased that he seems to enjoy the walks even if he isn't completely relaxed on them. He needs them for exercise as well as exposure to the world. He was frightened of the squeaky door of my mailbox only once. Some day I hope he will be able to let the 9 year old boy above pet him. The boy saw us another time and asked if my dog bites. Once he spoke, Rufus Dufus (you see how this name sometimes fits) was sprawling wildly toward the opposite side of the road. With scaredy shepherd straining away, I told the boy that he doesn't bite but is afraid and to give us a couple of months and then maybe he will be able to pet him. He seemed to be a dog-wise kid and nodded.
I'm also grateful to the kids at the house opposite of mine. One afternoon, I took him out. It was clear indoors that he wanted to go for a walk. But once on the porch, he saw the children of the house opposite rounding the corner of the house at a run. From the porch it only spooked him a little, but it really unsettled him as we were going down the driveway toward them as they came around once again. I allowed him to go back up on the porch to absorb the activity but saw that the kids had stopped. They seemed to have realized that their behavior was freaking out my dog. So I was able to get him off the porch and on the road with only minimal additional drama on his part.
Knowing that spring break was coming up made me anxious to introduce him to my pet-sitter because I wanted to visit my parents in Tennessee for a couple of days and wasn't sure whether it would be possible. I'll describe our attempts to get him acclimated to another person in the next episode.
Monday, March 26, 2018
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Dog stories: Frights
I was told when I first met this big shepherd that he had not been beaten but he had spent his whole life in a fairly small outdoor kennel with other dogs and with only room to run on the weekends. His people were away too often to socialize their dogs and obviously didn't believe in having house dogs. However, I think something must have happened to make this dog afraid of people to the extent he is. He was alarmed by the sound of people's voices on my computer when I played videos. He was not just surprised that the people seemed to inhabit a little black box, he was afraid when he heard voices and ran from the room. He also shot out of the room when I used a stapler.
Unfortunately on only the second or third time he was out in the fenced area behind my house, my neighbors were working on a garage they're progressively building. He was uneasy about them but when they ran a machine that made a rapid staccato noise, he completely panicked. He rammed the fence to get away and actually bowed it outward when he did this, making me worry that he would damage it and actually escape. The outdoor area for my dogs is fairly small, not a full yard, but it has six foot fencing. Thankfully it didn't occur to him to go over it. He came scrabbling up on the back door and even seemed to try to get in the window beside it. When I opened the door, I saw that he had peed on it--not to mark it but out of fear.
Once indoors, he felt safe and wasn't panicky but it took him a while to settle down. As a result of this scare, getting him to go outside to do his business became a trial. I could haul him out and did for a few days but realized I was creating an expectation that that was the method for going out the door. He braced himself and I took ahold of a choke chain and pulled until he moved. I have tendinitis in my hands, so that was not working in that regard and seemed to be reinforcing his freezing in front of the door. So I decided to make him go out the door without me in front of him by using a walking stick like a shepherd. So, yes, I shepherded the shepherd. Oddly it worked better the first time I did it. The second time, he showed some resistance and I was a less than gentle shepherd bopping his rear end. But he did comply and after those two times, I was able to herd without the stick or I could step out on the stoop and he would follow and then I would go back inside.
His fear of the mere sound of human voices and of sharp staccato sounds makes me wonder if the people who owned him had neighbors who enjoyed shooting guns that freaked him out. Or maybe the two fears are separate and it was noise of hail on a tin roof that was the first fright that cemented his fear of that sound.
The issue of naming him remains. At one time I thought Levi (short for Leviathan) would be great. Then I ended up saying Heel Levi and realized that the sounds get mushed together, making it a poor choice. Since he has a lot of black guard hairs and a black face, I thought to call him Shady Brady or Shady Grady. Those were close. My pet-sitter, Leah, wanted to call him Boris, which is not bad but to me it has a somewhat negative (Boris and Natasha), even if comical, association. I want to downplay anyone's wariness of him as a big dog and give him a fairly unintimidating name.
Somehow Brady and Grady weren't sticking for me. While away at my parents' place, I thought of Rufus because his legs and undercoat are quite red. That has potential. I could easily see calling him Rufus Dufus. However, when I came home from the visit to my parents, I was struck again by his essential nervousness and found myself saying to him, "you're such a nervous Nelly," because he seemed uncertain about how to behave now that I was back. Though a feminist, I'm not going to flout convention in this arena of my life by calling a male dog Nelly. But the name Nelson immediately suggested itself as a male alternative. It has a little dignity without too much and doesn't strike me as likely to reinforce anyone's assumptions about his viciousness. I like it so that's what I'll call him for now. Don't be surprised if it morphs again.
Back to the door incident and Nelson's reluctance to go through it. It can be hard at times to determine when he's being fearful and when he's being stubborn. The two may be melded in his mind or he may not be sure when he's acting from, "I just don't want to do that," or "I'm afraid and so don't want to do that." I certainly understand that the first few times he was asked to go back out after his terror, it was fear making him reluctant. But after a couple of days, it seemed to be a stubbornness routine. (If anyone wonders why I didn't use treats, he's not a food-motivated dog. When stressed, he doesn't instantly respond to food. Later, when he became more accustomed to the routines of the house, he would respond to treats but not initially.)
Take another example, when confronted with steps, he would put on the brakes. For people who've raised puppies, this may bring to mind a stage at about five months when they balk at steps. Yet here's a year-old dog who likes to figure out how to pick locks. So why would figuring out how to walk up stairs be an utter NO? He would freeze and only force would get him to tackle the problem, however awkwardly. It was clear that he didn't know what to do with his legs. He's pretty much got it figured out now, mostly from watching the other dogs. He still prefers to take the four back steps in one big, though easy for him, leap.
But his NOs aren't always refusals of a puppyish, "I don't get it and I don't want to get it," sort of stubbornness. He also freezes, or what some people now call "shutting down." He goes still. This is a sign of fear and stress. Sometimes, I think he freezes because he doesn't know what to do with his big body. He'll be halfway through turning around in a tight space and freeze. If too much is going on in a small space, he freezes. When I take him for a walk, he may go a bit ahead of me and start to cross in front of me and then freeze. I've been bumping into him or push him to get him moving again. His freezing episodes are usually very short-lived, but they're definitely symptomatic of anxiety and uncertainty. I'm optimistic that he will someday get over them but I also expect it will take years and that it will always be how he responds to anxiety or stress.
Next time, more on our walks.
Unfortunately on only the second or third time he was out in the fenced area behind my house, my neighbors were working on a garage they're progressively building. He was uneasy about them but when they ran a machine that made a rapid staccato noise, he completely panicked. He rammed the fence to get away and actually bowed it outward when he did this, making me worry that he would damage it and actually escape. The outdoor area for my dogs is fairly small, not a full yard, but it has six foot fencing. Thankfully it didn't occur to him to go over it. He came scrabbling up on the back door and even seemed to try to get in the window beside it. When I opened the door, I saw that he had peed on it--not to mark it but out of fear.
Once indoors, he felt safe and wasn't panicky but it took him a while to settle down. As a result of this scare, getting him to go outside to do his business became a trial. I could haul him out and did for a few days but realized I was creating an expectation that that was the method for going out the door. He braced himself and I took ahold of a choke chain and pulled until he moved. I have tendinitis in my hands, so that was not working in that regard and seemed to be reinforcing his freezing in front of the door. So I decided to make him go out the door without me in front of him by using a walking stick like a shepherd. So, yes, I shepherded the shepherd. Oddly it worked better the first time I did it. The second time, he showed some resistance and I was a less than gentle shepherd bopping his rear end. But he did comply and after those two times, I was able to herd without the stick or I could step out on the stoop and he would follow and then I would go back inside.
His fear of the mere sound of human voices and of sharp staccato sounds makes me wonder if the people who owned him had neighbors who enjoyed shooting guns that freaked him out. Or maybe the two fears are separate and it was noise of hail on a tin roof that was the first fright that cemented his fear of that sound.
The issue of naming him remains. At one time I thought Levi (short for Leviathan) would be great. Then I ended up saying Heel Levi and realized that the sounds get mushed together, making it a poor choice. Since he has a lot of black guard hairs and a black face, I thought to call him Shady Brady or Shady Grady. Those were close. My pet-sitter, Leah, wanted to call him Boris, which is not bad but to me it has a somewhat negative (Boris and Natasha), even if comical, association. I want to downplay anyone's wariness of him as a big dog and give him a fairly unintimidating name.
Somehow Brady and Grady weren't sticking for me. While away at my parents' place, I thought of Rufus because his legs and undercoat are quite red. That has potential. I could easily see calling him Rufus Dufus. However, when I came home from the visit to my parents, I was struck again by his essential nervousness and found myself saying to him, "you're such a nervous Nelly," because he seemed uncertain about how to behave now that I was back. Though a feminist, I'm not going to flout convention in this arena of my life by calling a male dog Nelly. But the name Nelson immediately suggested itself as a male alternative. It has a little dignity without too much and doesn't strike me as likely to reinforce anyone's assumptions about his viciousness. I like it so that's what I'll call him for now. Don't be surprised if it morphs again.
Back to the door incident and Nelson's reluctance to go through it. It can be hard at times to determine when he's being fearful and when he's being stubborn. The two may be melded in his mind or he may not be sure when he's acting from, "I just don't want to do that," or "I'm afraid and so don't want to do that." I certainly understand that the first few times he was asked to go back out after his terror, it was fear making him reluctant. But after a couple of days, it seemed to be a stubbornness routine. (If anyone wonders why I didn't use treats, he's not a food-motivated dog. When stressed, he doesn't instantly respond to food. Later, when he became more accustomed to the routines of the house, he would respond to treats but not initially.)
Take another example, when confronted with steps, he would put on the brakes. For people who've raised puppies, this may bring to mind a stage at about five months when they balk at steps. Yet here's a year-old dog who likes to figure out how to pick locks. So why would figuring out how to walk up stairs be an utter NO? He would freeze and only force would get him to tackle the problem, however awkwardly. It was clear that he didn't know what to do with his legs. He's pretty much got it figured out now, mostly from watching the other dogs. He still prefers to take the four back steps in one big, though easy for him, leap.
But his NOs aren't always refusals of a puppyish, "I don't get it and I don't want to get it," sort of stubbornness. He also freezes, or what some people now call "shutting down." He goes still. This is a sign of fear and stress. Sometimes, I think he freezes because he doesn't know what to do with his big body. He'll be halfway through turning around in a tight space and freeze. If too much is going on in a small space, he freezes. When I take him for a walk, he may go a bit ahead of me and start to cross in front of me and then freeze. I've been bumping into him or push him to get him moving again. His freezing episodes are usually very short-lived, but they're definitely symptomatic of anxiety and uncertainty. I'm optimistic that he will someday get over them but I also expect it will take years and that it will always be how he responds to anxiety or stress.
Next time, more on our walks.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Collaging in Tennessee
The past few days have been spent with my parents and my sister. I took some collage material up with me because My sister wanted to do some collaging. Here are the results. Sorry that the pics are not very good. So she first took to putting animal heads on people--and then an animal tongue intruded to great hilarity.
And finally I did some dedicated to animals.
And then she got very fancy.
I decided to play with some stray pieces. I'd been wondering about doing abstract or more textural collages and so here are my experiments with that.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Dogs: Arrival of a big dog without inhibitions
Because of his size and his just having had surgery, I took the animal control officer's offer to bring him to me instead of me picking him up at the vet. The downside of this is that he did not arrive until about 7pm. However, it was clearly necessary when he couldn't get up the few steps onto my porch so the man had to pick him up. He had weighed in at the vet at 79 pounds despite being thin.
Unfortunately, he also smelled like a foul barnyard. I don't know if the vet had kept him out at the barn (I suspect not) or if the animal control guy had been hauling hogs in his kennels, but he not only stunk but had stinky stuff on him. I would have gotten out the baby wipes and started rubbing him down right away except that he was completely loopy from the anesthesia. He immediately fell in love with Ginger. And he didn't get over it for about a week. She did not feel the same way and so I kept them largely separated for a couple of weeks. He was crazed for water, which I couldn't give him until the next morning. This is how I learned that he could easily get up into the dirty dishes in the sink. So it was a tense night except when he was flopped down on the floor, which was thankfully a lot of the time.
I didn't initially get a crate for him, hoping he might be like Jesse, a dog who had spent all of her life outside but behaved perfectly (with the exception of wanting to dive through the window at people on the porch) inside. This was not to be the case. For one, he is still very much a puppy. They say you can't skip developmental phases, whether dog or human. This dog was big enough to consider the couch a potential toy. And of course anything I provided as a toy--or were already my dogs' toys--he showed little interest in. So I was forced to get a crate. Because they are cheaper, I got the metal grate kind rather than the plastic form kind. I figured I could cover it with sheets or blankets like I do Ginger's crate. It was a nice theory. Two unfortunate things happened. One, the crate wasn't very well made. He was out of it the first night. He clearly enjoys problem-solving. As I reinforced it with what I had available (the clips on a tie-out line and gator clips), he observed the set-up closely. He was able to get the gator clips off but not to entirely get out of the crate despite bowing both the crate door and the frame of the door. Also, he was somehow able to get ahold of the drop cloth and sheet I had draped over the crate and pull them into the crate. He also was somehow pushing the bottom tray halfway out the front of the crate. So I would come home to the blankets, etc, pushed to the back of the crate and him on what little of the tray was still in the crate huddling as if to say, "see, this isn't working."
At least I was keeping him in the crate. I figured out how to keep the tray in the crate with a latch. I bought more clips and clasps to put around the door. I refrained from any further covering of the crate. And eventually he got used to it. I'd put some toys in it that my other dogs were always wanting to sneak in and steal when it was unoccupied so I've had to keep it closed whether he's in it or not. He'd never shown much reluctance to go in and now goes right in without a problem. But there has still been the issue of getting him to go out the back door, which will be another blog.
It should be said that he's done a wonderful job of healing from the neutering. He hardly fussed with the incision and the look of it never gave me concern. In the early days, he frequently laid as though he was still on the operating table, on his back with legs at full extension both fore and aft, much like the following picture but on his back. So it was easy to see that it was healing nicely.
Unfortunately, he also smelled like a foul barnyard. I don't know if the vet had kept him out at the barn (I suspect not) or if the animal control guy had been hauling hogs in his kennels, but he not only stunk but had stinky stuff on him. I would have gotten out the baby wipes and started rubbing him down right away except that he was completely loopy from the anesthesia. He immediately fell in love with Ginger. And he didn't get over it for about a week. She did not feel the same way and so I kept them largely separated for a couple of weeks. He was crazed for water, which I couldn't give him until the next morning. This is how I learned that he could easily get up into the dirty dishes in the sink. So it was a tense night except when he was flopped down on the floor, which was thankfully a lot of the time.
I didn't initially get a crate for him, hoping he might be like Jesse, a dog who had spent all of her life outside but behaved perfectly (with the exception of wanting to dive through the window at people on the porch) inside. This was not to be the case. For one, he is still very much a puppy. They say you can't skip developmental phases, whether dog or human. This dog was big enough to consider the couch a potential toy. And of course anything I provided as a toy--or were already my dogs' toys--he showed little interest in. So I was forced to get a crate. Because they are cheaper, I got the metal grate kind rather than the plastic form kind. I figured I could cover it with sheets or blankets like I do Ginger's crate. It was a nice theory. Two unfortunate things happened. One, the crate wasn't very well made. He was out of it the first night. He clearly enjoys problem-solving. As I reinforced it with what I had available (the clips on a tie-out line and gator clips), he observed the set-up closely. He was able to get the gator clips off but not to entirely get out of the crate despite bowing both the crate door and the frame of the door. Also, he was somehow able to get ahold of the drop cloth and sheet I had draped over the crate and pull them into the crate. He also was somehow pushing the bottom tray halfway out the front of the crate. So I would come home to the blankets, etc, pushed to the back of the crate and him on what little of the tray was still in the crate huddling as if to say, "see, this isn't working."
At least I was keeping him in the crate. I figured out how to keep the tray in the crate with a latch. I bought more clips and clasps to put around the door. I refrained from any further covering of the crate. And eventually he got used to it. I'd put some toys in it that my other dogs were always wanting to sneak in and steal when it was unoccupied so I've had to keep it closed whether he's in it or not. He'd never shown much reluctance to go in and now goes right in without a problem. But there has still been the issue of getting him to go out the back door, which will be another blog.
It should be said that he's done a wonderful job of healing from the neutering. He hardly fussed with the incision and the look of it never gave me concern. In the early days, he frequently laid as though he was still on the operating table, on his back with legs at full extension both fore and aft, much like the following picture but on his back. So it was easy to see that it was healing nicely.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Dogs: A new pack member
Yes, a new pack member, which makes me certifiably crazy and open to accusations of being irresponsible. But he's currently better fed than he was and is slowly becoming more adjusted to living with people so if I eventually have to find a new home for him, he has a much better chance of finding a good one and being accepted. I've worked out (or am in the process of working out) a lot of them.
I wasn't actively looking for a dog but I would see them thanks to friends' posts on facebook and because I am part of various re-homing facebook groups because I'd been trying to find a home for a cat I'd taken in. (Yay! Days after bringing in the new dog, Ollie finally found a home!) I eventually wanted to add another dog as a playmate for Zippy to help her expend her energy. She and Ginger would play for about 15-20 minutes shortly before bedtime, but that isn't enough for Zippy. And Ginger is getting old even though she is still in great shape. Sleeping is her favorite pasttime. So I was keeping my eye out for a medium-sized dog but not actively looking.
The dog I currently have was one of those posts shared by friends. He was on the Marshall County Animal Control group. It showed a picture of him curled and said he was a 2 yr old German Shepherd. In the picture he didn't look very big and had the coloring more of a Malinois. Another person commented, "nice Malinois." So I thought he might be of a more medium build than the typical shepherd even if he was a shepherd. So I decided to attempt to meet him.
It took more than one text/call to finally make an arrangement. He was not at a the usual vet facility but was being kept across from the Corrections building in my town and the animal control officer wanted to be present. I didn't ask questions but just showed up on a blustery, damp day. When I arrived others weren't around but I saw the dog in a large fenced area and he was a big guy, not what I was expecting. He wouldn't come up to me and paced at the far end of the fence. When the animal control officer arrived, even he had a bit of difficulty catching the dog. He said he'd known the dog all its life but that it had become shy for no known reason. He was actually only a year old. Though he let me fuss with him in all manner of ways but he never made overtures toward me. The man stepped away at one point and seemed quite pleased that the dog didn't try to follow him but stayed with me stroking his head. He stood the whole time just allowing people to do whatever they were going to do with him. He showed no aggression and once I did get a glance out of the corner of his eye. But that was it. Though I consider him a handsome dog, I can't say it was love at first site or touch. It was more that I realized that this was a dog I could probably work with and that there were few people who probably could. They would be a afraid of him or wouldn't do what was necessary to help him overcome his shyness. So I agreed to take him after neutering, which the animal control officer said he would arrange for the following week.
Since I lived fairly close to where he was being kept, I decided to go visit him the following day. The animal control officer had told me that he was bringing dogs that needed socializing to that facility so that prisoners could do the socializing. The people at the corrections facility were very accommodating during my visits. One of the men kept his two rottweilers there, a smaller but ornery older female and a large friendly puppy, not quite as old or as big as the shepherd but still a big dog. When this guy came out with his dogs, the shepherd would come up but he completely avoided me even if I brought treats. He clearly did not believe in the approval of people. To gain his trust, you needed the approval of dogs, of the pack. So I played with and even brushed the huge puppy, who happily ate up all of the attention. The older female was more reserved, and since she was top dog and I didn't have the approval of the top dog, the shepherd wouldn't come near me. The first day, he only paced at a distance, occasionally circling within 10 or 15 feet. That Sunday, I spent 2-3 hours with the dogs and only then did he start to relax. He wouldn't come up to me, but at one point, he laid down opposite of me and facing me. And he kept trying to sneak up closer to me from behind. He was getting that I wanted to get to know him but he was still too afraid. At one point he laid down flat out within about 10 feet of me as the girls napped. That's as close and relaxed as he got before he was introduced to my house in an anesthesia-drunken state the following Wednesday evening. More on that in a later post.
I wasn't actively looking for a dog but I would see them thanks to friends' posts on facebook and because I am part of various re-homing facebook groups because I'd been trying to find a home for a cat I'd taken in. (Yay! Days after bringing in the new dog, Ollie finally found a home!) I eventually wanted to add another dog as a playmate for Zippy to help her expend her energy. She and Ginger would play for about 15-20 minutes shortly before bedtime, but that isn't enough for Zippy. And Ginger is getting old even though she is still in great shape. Sleeping is her favorite pasttime. So I was keeping my eye out for a medium-sized dog but not actively looking.
The dog I currently have was one of those posts shared by friends. He was on the Marshall County Animal Control group. It showed a picture of him curled and said he was a 2 yr old German Shepherd. In the picture he didn't look very big and had the coloring more of a Malinois. Another person commented, "nice Malinois." So I thought he might be of a more medium build than the typical shepherd even if he was a shepherd. So I decided to attempt to meet him.
It took more than one text/call to finally make an arrangement. He was not at a the usual vet facility but was being kept across from the Corrections building in my town and the animal control officer wanted to be present. I didn't ask questions but just showed up on a blustery, damp day. When I arrived others weren't around but I saw the dog in a large fenced area and he was a big guy, not what I was expecting. He wouldn't come up to me and paced at the far end of the fence. When the animal control officer arrived, even he had a bit of difficulty catching the dog. He said he'd known the dog all its life but that it had become shy for no known reason. He was actually only a year old. Though he let me fuss with him in all manner of ways but he never made overtures toward me. The man stepped away at one point and seemed quite pleased that the dog didn't try to follow him but stayed with me stroking his head. He stood the whole time just allowing people to do whatever they were going to do with him. He showed no aggression and once I did get a glance out of the corner of his eye. But that was it. Though I consider him a handsome dog, I can't say it was love at first site or touch. It was more that I realized that this was a dog I could probably work with and that there were few people who probably could. They would be a afraid of him or wouldn't do what was necessary to help him overcome his shyness. So I agreed to take him after neutering, which the animal control officer said he would arrange for the following week.
Since I lived fairly close to where he was being kept, I decided to go visit him the following day. The animal control officer had told me that he was bringing dogs that needed socializing to that facility so that prisoners could do the socializing. The people at the corrections facility were very accommodating during my visits. One of the men kept his two rottweilers there, a smaller but ornery older female and a large friendly puppy, not quite as old or as big as the shepherd but still a big dog. When this guy came out with his dogs, the shepherd would come up but he completely avoided me even if I brought treats. He clearly did not believe in the approval of people. To gain his trust, you needed the approval of dogs, of the pack. So I played with and even brushed the huge puppy, who happily ate up all of the attention. The older female was more reserved, and since she was top dog and I didn't have the approval of the top dog, the shepherd wouldn't come near me. The first day, he only paced at a distance, occasionally circling within 10 or 15 feet. That Sunday, I spent 2-3 hours with the dogs and only then did he start to relax. He wouldn't come up to me, but at one point, he laid down opposite of me and facing me. And he kept trying to sneak up closer to me from behind. He was getting that I wanted to get to know him but he was still too afraid. At one point he laid down flat out within about 10 feet of me as the girls napped. That's as close and relaxed as he got before he was introduced to my house in an anesthesia-drunken state the following Wednesday evening. More on that in a later post.
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