February Lucinda the dog update

We've had Lucinda the dog eight weeks now. It's so wonderful, so comforting, so normal, to have a dog at home again. It's brought back so many memories of Buster, Wiley and Albi when they each first came into my life.

Lucy is less skittish with strangers, so much so that people have thought she's grown. One person said to me today, "My goodness, she's twice the size she was when I last saw her!" Um... no. She's gained less than two pounds since we first weighed her on Jan. 3 at PetSmart. I took her to the vet one day just for her to go inside and meet everyone, so her first visit wouldn't involve anything but friendly people and dog treats. When we took her back, along with Max the Cat (he needed his boosters), she handled being chipped like it was no big thing at ALL.

She walks on a leash incredibly well now, and I've trained with her every day - she knows sit, down, and stay from both positions, and I'm working on "go to your bed". But she just does not understand "come" when we are inside the house or in the yard. At the dog park or when she's walking on a leash - yes, she totally gets it, and it's really wonderful to call her name at the dog park and have her bound toward you and lean up against you as you tell her what a good girl she is. Inside our house and in the yard, I use the most delicious dog treats possible, but she will only "come" in the house or in the yard if we are in the middle of a training session - try it when you are on one side of the house and she's on the other, and she'll just stare at you.

But, sadly, we've had a setback regarding trust. Lucy is a bit more skittish, and seems a bit depressed. And I think it all goes back to our horrible scare with her about three weeks ago.

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you know that we had a horrible scare with Lucy on January 29: around 2:30 that day, after Lucy and I had finished our B Street Trail walk and were two blocks from home on 18th, I fell and lost my grip on the leash. As soon as I hit the ground, Lucy BOLTED. She FLEW down 18th street, her leash dragging behind her, making a loud noise because of the plastic holder for her poop bags banging against the sidewalk and street. I couldn't even begin to catch her as she bolted away from me. She ran two blocks as fast as she could, almost getting hit by a car, then I saw her in the distance turn the corner of where we live, on Birch and 18th. And then she was gone. An hour later, EVERY person in Forest Grove with a dog was out looking for her. Neighbors went out in their cars looking for her. I called Stefan at work. He came home and joined the search. I stood in front of the house, looking, calling, crying LOTS, making a general spectacle of myself. I searched under bushes, in nooks and crannies all around our house and the neighbors. Nothing. Crazy reports came in on the Facebook Forest Grove community of sightings as far away as Cornelius - and poor Stefan drove to every one of them, no matter how crazy.

More than four hours later, night had fallen, and temperatures were dropping - it would freeze that night, or come close. I was imagining the worst, and thought, if we don't find her, this is one of the worst days of my life. Stefan and I decided to go on the route of our usual morning walk, backwards, calling for her. About 45 minutes later, we got back to the house and Stefan heard something rustling in the neighbor's yard next to our fence. It was Lucinda. She' hadn't been there or near there until then, as I'd looked there thoroughly earlier. We think that by going out and calling, she heard us from wherever she was hiding somewhere on the block and came home. She bolted away from us when Stefan approached, but stopped in the front grass, sat, and eyed me with a side, terrified glance. I had to approach slowly, with a raw hide, and I talked and talked. She dropped down on her belly, but was ready to run. I stopped before I got too close and she would bolt again. Finally, she crawled tentatively came forward for the rawhide. She was shaking uncontrollably. Still wearing her collar and leash - the sound of it dragging behind her had contributed to her panic. I held her and wept. Stefan came up and held her too. We brought her inside - both her and her leash wet all over. I fainted shortly after we got her inside - everything just kinda went gray and fuzzy. I think Stefan thought I was kidding. I'm just glad I didn't hit anything on the way down.

Everyone in Forest Grove was awesome. Beyond awesome. I cannot believe how many people went out with their own dogs or cars just to look for our dog! I think she would have come home sooner had the Methodist Church playground not been packed for an hour with screaming kids - she does not like groups of children (she's fine with one or two).

Since then, she's progressed well on training and walking on leash, but we've gone a bit backwards in terms of trust, and that really breaks my heart. When it's time to walk, each morning, afternoon and evening, she cowers and crawls under the futon couch and won't come out, no matter what awesome treat I offer her. I have to put the retractable leash on her when she isn't under the couch and isn't expecting it, and then she'll go on a walk just fine - no cowering at all. She rarely pulls now. But she also rarely sleeps with us in the bedroom anymore, on her bed next to mine. Instead, she sleeps in her crate, getting up in the night to let me know when it's time for a pee break (anytime between 2 and 4 a.m.) - and then she is happy to be put on leash.

She's been to a private dog training class, and she will begin group classes in March. And I'm doing all I can to rebuild our trust: I lay in the floor with her whenever she's outside her crate, and pull her into my lap sometimes - she loves to be held. The best days are always when she can visit the dog park, or have a dog over to play in the back yard - all her inhibitions melt away, and after we get back home, she's happy and content. I would LOVE to get another dog - I think it would help her tremendously. But that's a while a way - we've got things to work on until then.

More:

What I’ve learned about Lucinda

The meaning of noises

We Love Lucy

The meaning of noises

You make so many noises a day, and you have no idea that they betray your intentions... until you get a dog.

Dogs aren't psychic. They are, rather, just so much smarter than most people think they are. You betray so much about what you are thinking or what you are about to do based on how you move, what you do, and the noises you make - and dogs see all of it and put it together to know what you're about to do.

Lucy the dog has already figured out that the sound of the sliding door from the kitchen to the utility room means either Stefan is coming in or she's about to go for a walk. She knows the TV or radio being on means I'm not going anywhere, but when it's off, it means I'm leaving - and she hopes I'll be taking her with me. She knows when I go out the front or back door that I'll be back within seconds, but if I go out of the side door, I might be gone for a while, and she's therefore more upset about it. After yesterday, I'm guessing she now knows that the vacuum cleaner means company is coming.

I delighted in realizing what Buster, Wiley and Albi each had figured out about me based on noises. It's so much fun to get to go through that again.

Gray Max the cat, by the way, knows that when he hears the sliding door, it means, RUN, THE GUY THAT DOESN'T LIKE ME IS HOME!

Animals in my house. Oh, it's just been too long.

Insults on a plane

A dear friend was on a long-distance flight across the USA within the last 24 hours of my writing this blog. She was sitting next to a teenage boy. She glanced at his phone and saw he was tweeting that he was in middle seat next to "fat bitch." She said "Really, dude?" And he said "Oh, just trying to be funny."

She sat there in the seat, feeling humiliated, for almost an hour. As she said on one of her social media accounts where she related this story, which I'm retelling with her permission, "I finally decided that listening to him have fun while I felt awful was just too much."

Awful. She felt AWFUL. Can you imagine how she felt? I can. The feeling - the pain - makes my skin crawl. I know exactly how she felt.

She walked to the back of the plane and asked the Alaska Airlines flight attendants if there were any other seats available. "When they said no, I explained the situation and that I felt uncomfortable staying in my seat. I wasn't trying to get him in trouble; I just really wanted to move. They were all immediately sympathetic and the people in the last row offered for me to sit with them. The guy who swapped seats with me was really nice about it."

So, already, my faith in humanity is restored at this point in the story - the flight attendants were genuinely sympathetic, and random strangers in the last row of the plane offered to help out. That's just what you need in a situation like this - to know that you have, indeed, been horribly wronged, and that people want to help you.

As she said in her retelling,"I went back and got my backpack and said to the kid, 'What you wrote was cruel. It was really mean and not ok.' After I sat down in my new seat, one of the flight attendants went up and talked to the kid. At this point, his dad who was sitting in the row in front of him figured out what was going on. After a little while, the dad can back with tears streaming down his face, apologizing for the behavior of his son. He was horrified and I felt so bad for him. I assured him that I didn't think his son was a bad person, just a young person who needs to remember that words hurt people. We talked for awhile."

To know that the Dad was ashamed for his son just makes this all the better. That's beyond awesome. That's as it should be.

She added, "Then the boy came back and sheepishly apologized. He seemed genuinely apologetic." I should note there that I am NOT ready to cut that kid any slack. Especially since, 16 hours later, that tweet is still up. And that tweet is even worse than she's related, but I cannot quote it verbatim to show you just how bad it is because then you would be able to find him on Twitter, and she has forbidden me or any of her friends from outing him. My friend is, obviously, a better person than me.

She said, "After the flight, I saw them all again. The father and I embraced and while he had said there would be repercussions for his son's behavior, I urged him to make it about learning not punishment. The kid waved to me and again seemed genuinely sorry." Did I mention that, 16 hours later, the tweet is still there? And favorited by five different people already?

She also said, "The flight attendants were super kind and gracious and gave me unnecessary perks like a free video player." You rock, Alaska Airlines!

Of course, when she related this story, so many of her friends, myself included, jumped in to say what an incredibly classy, wonderful, awesome human being she is. My comment, "you are just pure GRACE. I mean it. I'm blown away at how you handled this. I could never, ever have handled it so well. You are a goddess."

I hope that all you parents out there will have a talk with your kids about both social media, about shaming people for any reason, including their weight, and about sexism. Explain to them that, indeed, words hurt.