It Ain't Easy Being Insecure

June 14, 2011

 Today my insecure little whippet walked apace at a nice even clip around a huge city block and past two strange dogs.

She was on the outside. The feat was monumental.

If that's easy for your dog it was less so for Pearl, more accustomed to being an art object of ceaseless human adoration and less the working pup, if you get my drift. 

That is to say that Pearl has a history of a shrinking violet. She may be deeply appreciative, deep down, of the charms of other dogs, trucks, cars and other moving objects, shadows, water, strange colors and noises, but it would be hard to prove.

I worked a week to get her in my hatchback so I could take her to the vet -- and the park. I roasted organic chicken and shredded it with my fingers and laid it on the working parts and the floor of the hatchback day after day until she finally jumped in and feasted.

But the setbacks kept coming.

She was in but I couldn't close the hatchback door.  More chicken.  Then I could close the door but she wouldn't sit down. More chicken. When I finally closed the door and the window, she leaped in holy terror into the back seat and tried to flip the handle on the side door.  And she didn't want any chicken! 

My husband Bob said to throw a crate in the back and put her in it. He is a genius.

I put her favorite bed in the crate and a pair of my unwashed pajamas and stuck her inside. She sat down like a good girl and I threw a blanket over the crate. It was an ah-ha moment, thank you Bob. 

He said his family used to stick their hunting beagles in the trunk of their car. That was back in the day. I imagine today's beagles have lawyers that would sue.

In any case, Pearl and I are ready for our vet appointment tomorrow morning.