Reflections on those early days, when the learning curve is steep
IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I’ve had a puppy in my life, or even simply a dog who didn’t quite know the ropes. As I write this, we are three months past introducing a new member to the family, and the experiences I’m having seem distantly familiar — the reliving of memories from times gone by.
Getting to know a new dog has a sharp sweetness, and I’m surprised by the feelings it brings — how many smiles and, yes, how many moments of frustration. In many ways, I’m learning about myself as a pet guardian as much as I’m learning about Gizmo, the precious and unique pet we’ve adopted.
A few months ago, I was worried whether the existing dogs in our household would welcome someone new. Well, I wasted my time on those worries. The dogs play together, they share toys, they wrestle. And they seem to have figured out their pack hierarchy on their own. Doku is the boss, Penny is the dog masquerading as a toddler, and Gizmo is the joker.
Wondrously, Gizmo has also worked out his relationships with our cats. At first, he was both wildly excited by them and deeply curious about them. Now, this has settled into an outright lovefest.
During Gizmo’s first few days here, he slept lightly and not for long. He wouldn’t lie on any of the dog beds, only near them. He was quiet. And when anyone left the room — dog, cat or person — Gizmo would follow. He walked so close to whomever he was following that he’d often bump into us. He showed us that he preferred to do his business in the house. (Hey, why go outside, where it’s wet and cold?) At night, he’d jump onto our bed and crawl under any available arm so that he was cuddled in. And, every time, my heart would melt.
Gradually, Gizmo stopped getting up whenever someone left the room. He now sleeps deeply. He claimed some of the dog beds as his own — and he’s confident enough to sleep independently at night. (But I miss those snuggles!)
He’s become more vocal — alerting us about perceived impending danger in the form of visitors or, gasp, squirrels he sees from the window. His bark is pretty piercing and, in retrospect, I sometimes wish he hadn’t found quite so much of his voice. But I can work with that.
Gizmo swiftly showed us he’s a goofball. He likes to grab any shoe you take off and race around the room with it before eventually dropping it. When he realizes you want to bring him outside, if he’s not interested in going, he rolls on his back and waves all of his paws around, as if to distract you.
As his comfort level has grown, he has demonstrated signs of being less at ease when new people pop in. He shows it by bark-bark-barking. We’re working on that, too. And, ever the protector, he has an inexplicable desire to lunge at electrical boxes and posts along our walk routes. Moments later, he jumps in circles and seems proud of himself for barking those things into submission.
So, Gizmo has been spending the past few months teaching me as much as I’ve been teaching him. While I’m learning who he is, I recognize that this silly, sometimes annoying, always lovable dog is an individual. An individual who, just like every other dog, cat, bunny, horse or parrot, deserves love, understanding and his own second chance. And with a second chance comes that mishmash of a time when everything is new and the learning curve is steep. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.