Toby is almost the perfect dog. He’s quiet, calm and relaxed. And he hasn’t chewed my shoes.
My kind of dog.
But I said he’s almost perfect. Almost.
For one, he’s not yet 100% house trained. Or it just may be my kids who are not house trained to take him out on a frequent regular basis. The kids and I are conferring on that topic. I expect to see improvements.
So Toby and I are working on our relationship. Actually, I’m doing all of the work. He’s not pulling his load. I bought him special treats that only I can give him(tossed from a distance of course) and no one else is allowed in his sight lest he confuses them to be the benefactor.
We might be making progress.
He still skirts off in the opposite direction when I enter the room and never takes his eyes off me, but I found some silver lining.
He runs off, but a little slower now. I think he’s melting, albeit not fast. Like a glacier, not an ice cube.
Then I wonder about the abuse he suffered that causes him to manifest this behavior. It must have been bad. Since I know his history, I am sympathetic.
But people’s behaviors are generally a product of their backgrounds, also. Yet I’m rarely as tolerant. I guess this is because I’m confident that Toby can’t harm me. He can certainly pee on my pillow, but he can’t betray my trust. And if he continues to reject me, well, he’s a dog.
I can always find some dog somewhere who likes me.