I should probably make Shinji a tag of his own.
The puppy smelled like bad feet and old blood today.
Not just normal feet, nor even questionable feet. Bad feet. I finally caved and drove him over to the clinic for a bath. At least that took care of the foot-smell. He still has breath like old blood, but that's because he's losing puppy teeth and he can't really help that.
Things are going reasonably well with him.
I knew I wasn't ready for a new dog and I had no desire for a puppy - I wanted a young adult dog, probably a Greyhound. My mum was visiting and as we were driving past the local no-kill shelter, I suggested we stop by to look at dogs. I immediately changed my mind, but my mother encouraged me to at least go in and look around. I'd been looking at rescues and Craigslist ads for a while, but every time I did, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready.
So there he was. He was in a large run with two other puppies, both of whom were much more active and social. They were at the front, licking a little girl's fingers. He was in the back of the run, curled up on a small rug, cautiously watching everyone.
I called out and he actually came over - the little girl tried to get his attention once he was on the move, but he veered away from her and came right to me. After petting all the puppies for a while, an employee encouraged me to go in. I did. One of the other pups in the run was his sister, the third was unrelated. The unrelated pup was constantly nipping and pawing at everyone, an energetic blur of fur and pointy teeth. The female wasn't quite so nippy, but was nearly as energetic, growling at the instigator and investigating every noise.
This pup, though, just came to my side, leaned his head on my leg and snuggled as close as he could. He liked to follow his sister around a bit, but for the most part he chose cuddles over play. I knew better, but I caved and took him home.
The excitement lasted the first day. Then I realized I'd done something foolish. The first week, he mostly slept. He was ridiculously timid, afraid of everything, and wouldn't come when called. He and his littermates - 5 other pups - had all been removed from a barn, where they'd all been kept together in a barrel. He had no socialization except the week he'd spent at the shelter, he'd never been inside a house before, and at nearly 4 months old, he wasn't potty-trained or leash-trained, and didn't even know what to make of a toy.
Even so, he was actually quite good that first week. He was gentle with the cats, he hardly made a noise, and he took right to his crate. He wasn't particularly destructive and listened when told to leave things alone. He started urinating on the carpet once the first night home; I caught him in the act and rushed him outside, where he finished. He went the entire week without a single other accident.
Even so, I had none of that "new puppy" excitement. I was just fulfilling an obligation. I knew, getting a puppy from this kind of background, that he was going to be a lot of work and there would be a lot of messes. I could handle all of that. It was more that I just wasn't ready. It didn't matter how old or what the background. I wasn't ready for another dog. I just wanted Genrou. Bonding was and has been exceedingly difficult.
The second week was awful. For whatever reason, he took some big steps backwards. We had lots of accidents in the house. He suddenly decided he wouldn't walk on tile, and refused to go into the kitchen to eat. He ran away from me every time I called him. When I tried teaching him to sit, he cringed like he was being beaten. He started balking at his crate and crying at night - though still not much. I had to drag or carry him everywhere. I was taking him into work with me every day, so he wouldn't have to spend all the day in the crate, but I had to carry him in and out of the house, shove him into the crate for the car ride, and carry him from the car to the indoor dog run.
All I could think about was how I could excuse taking him back to the shelter. I didn't love him and I didn't want him and we weren't doing well. The shelter had an open period, between 7-14 days, when you could take dogs back for a full refund if they weren't working out. I wanted to do it so badly, I racked my brain trying to invent a good reason I could give them, and a story I could tell my coworkers that would convince them I'd had no choice. But...I had adopted him. I took on that responsibility and my sense of duty told me I couldn't back out, and that if I just stuck it out a while longer, it would get better.
It did, fortunately. The third week improved a bit. He got back to eating his food, though he still insisted on sneaking around the edge of the kitchen, flush against the wall, standing over top the water dish to reach the food. He learned his name and started coming when called. He actually made progress on learning to sit. We still had a lot of accidents, but he settled back down with his crate.
By the fourth week, he knew how to sit and shake, and he would lie down so long as I tapped the floor. (He still doesn't seem to know what I'm asking of him if I don't tap.) I still had to carry him in and out of the house and place him into his travel crate, but he would actually walk through the clinic on his leash when I took him back to his dog run. He was playing a lot more, and consistently coming when called.
By the fifth week, I no longer had to carry him anywhere. Although it took some time and baby steps, he finally got to the point of walking through the kitchen, to and from the car, climbing in and out of the carrier in the car's back seat, and walking through the building on his own. He's still a bit hesitant to go in areas of the clinic he's less familiar with, prompting a bit of leash-dragging, but he's quite good at our normal route. He's also learned that clinic employees have treats, and he's become an enormous mooch. The frequency of accidents has decreased, though they still happen when I'm least expecting it.
He's snuggly and likes to sleep on me for hours at a time - the couch was one of his favourite spots from early on - and he likes to play with the cats. Daae is not too fond of this brand of playing, but Javert actually seems to enjoy it and plays back in his own, claws-and-fangs kind of way. We've only been on one real walk and although there was a lot of weaving and circling involved, it wasn't a disaster. He's even learning to fetch a little, though he's got nothing of the natural knack Genrou had for it.
Honestly, Shinji is about as good a puppy as one could ask for. He's affectionate and eager to learn, and he tries his hardest to do what's asked of him, even if he doesn't always understand it. I just hope that, eventually, I can come to love him the way he deserves.
Not just normal feet, nor even questionable feet. Bad feet. I finally caved and drove him over to the clinic for a bath. At least that took care of the foot-smell. He still has breath like old blood, but that's because he's losing puppy teeth and he can't really help that.
Things are going reasonably well with him.
I knew I wasn't ready for a new dog and I had no desire for a puppy - I wanted a young adult dog, probably a Greyhound. My mum was visiting and as we were driving past the local no-kill shelter, I suggested we stop by to look at dogs. I immediately changed my mind, but my mother encouraged me to at least go in and look around. I'd been looking at rescues and Craigslist ads for a while, but every time I did, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready.
So there he was. He was in a large run with two other puppies, both of whom were much more active and social. They were at the front, licking a little girl's fingers. He was in the back of the run, curled up on a small rug, cautiously watching everyone.
I called out and he actually came over - the little girl tried to get his attention once he was on the move, but he veered away from her and came right to me. After petting all the puppies for a while, an employee encouraged me to go in. I did. One of the other pups in the run was his sister, the third was unrelated. The unrelated pup was constantly nipping and pawing at everyone, an energetic blur of fur and pointy teeth. The female wasn't quite so nippy, but was nearly as energetic, growling at the instigator and investigating every noise.
This pup, though, just came to my side, leaned his head on my leg and snuggled as close as he could. He liked to follow his sister around a bit, but for the most part he chose cuddles over play. I knew better, but I caved and took him home.
The excitement lasted the first day. Then I realized I'd done something foolish. The first week, he mostly slept. He was ridiculously timid, afraid of everything, and wouldn't come when called. He and his littermates - 5 other pups - had all been removed from a barn, where they'd all been kept together in a barrel. He had no socialization except the week he'd spent at the shelter, he'd never been inside a house before, and at nearly 4 months old, he wasn't potty-trained or leash-trained, and didn't even know what to make of a toy.
Even so, he was actually quite good that first week. He was gentle with the cats, he hardly made a noise, and he took right to his crate. He wasn't particularly destructive and listened when told to leave things alone. He started urinating on the carpet once the first night home; I caught him in the act and rushed him outside, where he finished. He went the entire week without a single other accident.
Even so, I had none of that "new puppy" excitement. I was just fulfilling an obligation. I knew, getting a puppy from this kind of background, that he was going to be a lot of work and there would be a lot of messes. I could handle all of that. It was more that I just wasn't ready. It didn't matter how old or what the background. I wasn't ready for another dog. I just wanted Genrou. Bonding was and has been exceedingly difficult.
The second week was awful. For whatever reason, he took some big steps backwards. We had lots of accidents in the house. He suddenly decided he wouldn't walk on tile, and refused to go into the kitchen to eat. He ran away from me every time I called him. When I tried teaching him to sit, he cringed like he was being beaten. He started balking at his crate and crying at night - though still not much. I had to drag or carry him everywhere. I was taking him into work with me every day, so he wouldn't have to spend all the day in the crate, but I had to carry him in and out of the house, shove him into the crate for the car ride, and carry him from the car to the indoor dog run.
All I could think about was how I could excuse taking him back to the shelter. I didn't love him and I didn't want him and we weren't doing well. The shelter had an open period, between 7-14 days, when you could take dogs back for a full refund if they weren't working out. I wanted to do it so badly, I racked my brain trying to invent a good reason I could give them, and a story I could tell my coworkers that would convince them I'd had no choice. But...I had adopted him. I took on that responsibility and my sense of duty told me I couldn't back out, and that if I just stuck it out a while longer, it would get better.
It did, fortunately. The third week improved a bit. He got back to eating his food, though he still insisted on sneaking around the edge of the kitchen, flush against the wall, standing over top the water dish to reach the food. He learned his name and started coming when called. He actually made progress on learning to sit. We still had a lot of accidents, but he settled back down with his crate.
By the fourth week, he knew how to sit and shake, and he would lie down so long as I tapped the floor. (He still doesn't seem to know what I'm asking of him if I don't tap.) I still had to carry him in and out of the house and place him into his travel crate, but he would actually walk through the clinic on his leash when I took him back to his dog run. He was playing a lot more, and consistently coming when called.
By the fifth week, I no longer had to carry him anywhere. Although it took some time and baby steps, he finally got to the point of walking through the kitchen, to and from the car, climbing in and out of the carrier in the car's back seat, and walking through the building on his own. He's still a bit hesitant to go in areas of the clinic he's less familiar with, prompting a bit of leash-dragging, but he's quite good at our normal route. He's also learned that clinic employees have treats, and he's become an enormous mooch. The frequency of accidents has decreased, though they still happen when I'm least expecting it.
He's snuggly and likes to sleep on me for hours at a time - the couch was one of his favourite spots from early on - and he likes to play with the cats. Daae is not too fond of this brand of playing, but Javert actually seems to enjoy it and plays back in his own, claws-and-fangs kind of way. We've only been on one real walk and although there was a lot of weaving and circling involved, it wasn't a disaster. He's even learning to fetch a little, though he's got nothing of the natural knack Genrou had for it.
Honestly, Shinji is about as good a puppy as one could ask for. He's affectionate and eager to learn, and he tries his hardest to do what's asked of him, even if he doesn't always understand it. I just hope that, eventually, I can come to love him the way he deserves.