Don't Never Say Never

One of the keys to getting the most out of your relationship with your pet is understanding his/her, personality, temperment, and their general perception of their world.  Like people, dogs have differing perceptions of their world and their adaptive behavior, again like humans', varies widely.  Pursuing this human/dog analogy, understanding them can be just as inexact as figuring out just what's going on in the head of the guy next door.  The following story is a case in point.
As I've mentioned in earlier posts, GARD operates almost as much like a sanctuary as it does a typical rescue shelter.  We have here a substantial number of dogs who, for one reason or another, are unadoptable.  Some are just too old or infirm.  Others have quirks that most people would find problematical in the average home.  There are also those with behavioral issues which are adequately controlled in this particular environment but have not generalized their good behavior toward the world at large (stimulus discrimination).  And then there are those who appear to be antisocial.  Normally, these dogs are not innately averse to companionship, human or otherwise, but have been traumatized at some point in their lives and have not recovered (much like PTSD).  They are just too scared to commit to a relationship and choose to be apart, choosing for themselves a life that limits exposure to that which they find frightening.  Most times, with a lot of love and kindness, they can be brought around.  Others seem to operate in their own timeframe and will eventually turn things around by themselves.  Over the years, we have witnessed numerous turnarounds by dogs who have basically effected their own therapy, some of these bordering on the miraculous.  While it's always rewarding and sometimes even awe-inspiring, these days it takes quite a lot to blow our minds, pretty much thought we'd seen it all.

Just the other day, Cinder totally blew our minds!

Cinder is a middle-aged Black Lab who was dumped here shortly after we moved in, she's been here since I was a puppy and has always chosen to live beyond the pale.  She has (had) a house out beyond the outermost yards and could rarely be enticed into any of the more "civilized" areas of the property.  Dad always kept her food and treats in his car and Cinder would regularly greet him when he came home from the mill but would always maintain about a three foot safety zone.  In five years, he'd managed to touch her just once while she was sleeping.  Now Dad's got a way with dogs (people not so much), he can make friends with almost any of us, step into a brawl and take charge etc. but Cinder has always remained aloof and spurned his overtures.  Although my Dad says Cinder is the "spookiest" dog he's ever known, she has, for years, gone for walks with me and our gang.  To look at her, you'd think she was just another one of us but look at her directly or speak to her, she's gone.  For some reason, over the years, she's taken a special liking to me.  Judging from her behavior, it appears to be more of a perverted vestigial response to being in the presence of an Alpha, much like the behavior that a female wolf with pups displays when the male returns from the hunt.  She has been known to follow me and Lil into the outermost yard, provided the gate is left open and no one is near it.  If someone even looks at the gate, she's off like a shot.

As I write this, Cinder now lives in the house!!

About a year ago, after she lost her almost equally skittish companion, Cinder began slowly (very slowly) gravitating toward the house.  At first she would merely linger a little longer in the outer yard with me and Lil.  Around this time, she also struck up a sort of friendship with Millie, our old Pit.  At some point, she began hopping additional fences when no human was present so that she could be in inner yard (Cinder can jump anything ).  She eventually began spending more and more time hanging out under the porch but always would display the same aloofness toward humans, refusing (or bolting away from) hundreds of gestures of love and kindness.  The catalyst in her transformation proved to be a particularly big, nasty old thunderstorm.  Mom heard someone crying at the front door, opened it and Cinder came flying in.  She even let Mom cuddle and sooth her during the worst of the storm.  The rest, like they say, is history.  She now lives here and has integrated well into family life, preferring to spend most of her time in the kitchen or tv room where she has access to the fenced back yard via a doggy door.  She goes in and out like she's been here all her life ( if she had any desire to leave, she'd merely hop the fence)  and lately has been gravitating toward Dad's office 'cause that's where Lil and I hang out.  She even slept in there with us the other night.

We've seen it all here, or thought we had;  from Bailey's miraculous self-transformation from a vicious brute to a loving, trustworthy companion, Henry leaving off his ways as the eternal wanderer who always shunned the notion of a real home only  to become the ultimate couch potato and Zeke who, likewise, effected his own therapy going from a cringing, snapping bundle of fear to a well-adjusted member of the family but we never in a million years expected to see our Cinder lying on the floor sleeping contentedly with a half dozen or so other dogs or playing and learning to interact with all doggy appropriateness.

Don't never say never!