Today is Calla’s one-year adoption anniversary! A lot has changed since she and I first met:
- Her name was Rosie.
- She was 13 pounds skinnier and every rib stuck out.
- She was skittish around all human beings, myself included.
- Walking her on a leash was like playing tug-of-war.
- She peed and pooped in the house.
- Two weeks after bringing her home, her separation anxiety became so bad I thought I would have to give her up.
Consider this excerpt from a post last February:
My new mantra is: Every day is an adventure.
Yesterday’s adventure involved a half pound of baking chocolate and a late-night (and very expensive) trip to the emergency vet. She and Hanu (who I am dogsitting) are both fine, but are getting a healthy dose of liquid charcoal every 8 hours. And why was the chocolate in a doggy-accessible place, you ask? Well—I had no idea that the top of the refrigerator was fair game. Apparently, either this dog can jump to the moon or she’s learned how to use the stove as a step stool.
Will I come home to find shredded recycling all over the house? Rolled oats scattered on the living room floor? The coat rack knocked atop of giant piles of diarrhea? It’s anyone’s guess—because every day is an adventure.
But what is life without adventures?
Then of course, there was the infamous door-eating episode. Not sure what is particularly appealing about particle board, but I guess when she got bored with the moldings, blinds, trims, coat pockets, headphones and books, she decided, why yes! I think I’ll eat a door:
These days, it’s a different story. She is by no means perfect—heck, she knows how to open the refrigerator!—but she’s making progress. For instance: She’s learned to love the car, which means that I can go out for a few hours while she snoozes away in the front seat. She’s picked up a bevy of commands, including: sit, stay, down, drop it, leave it, come, hold steady (for balancing a treat on her nose), wait, in your crate, where’s Monkey? (her favorite toy), and go potty (AWESOME!). She’s calmer—not serene, of course, but calmer. I can now leave my house confident that I will not return to find a) that major parts of the house are missing or destroyed or b) fecal matter in the living room.
But most of all, she’s opened up. She’s let people and dogs into her life in a way I never thought possible a year ago. This was a dog who wouldn’t let you touch her with a ten-foot pole. Now? She curls up next to me and nudges her nose under my arm, rolls over onto her back with arms extended and says (in doggy language), “Mom, gimme a damn belly rub already!”
This was her a year ago:
This was her in early December, after the back-to-back fridge and freezer break-ins:
She has since gone on a minor diet and has successfully lost the 1 pound I was hoping she would.
Last night I made pupcakes. She scarfed one this morning: