Sometimes I felt as if I lived in a kennel. I stayed at a Residence Inn, and they allowed pets. Most phone calls I made to the front desk were about the dog down the hall barking in the middle of the night. Now I was one of “those” obnoxious residents with a pet.
Lu stood staring at the glass door. They represented nothing good in her world. I pulled it open and stood to wait…and waited. I called, coaxed, use food treats, and tried everything else I could to persuade her to enter the building. I was clearly not developing a role as an alpha. She stubbornly stood staring at me. I had spent the week studying information on this breed, and new they could be quite stubborn.
Suddenly, she heard a bark inside and flew through the door, sending my bags from “Petco” flying, about wrenching my arm out of it’s socket. I attempted to hold the beast while trying to pick up the contents of my bag, turning in circles at the same time to keep my legs from getting tangled. My inside voice had become my outside voice, and a litany of profanities floated down the hallway.
The next challenge was the stairs. Once I had collected myself and my things, I positioned Lulu at the bottom of the stairs and started climbing. The leash pulled tight, and I looked back to see her head lowered, legs spayed, and that look indicating that again she was going nowhere. At this point, frustration set in, and I began dragging her up the stairs, lifting and pulling her in her flashy pink harness.
She was breathing hard as we walked through the door at the top of the stairs, and down the hall. We made it past the first kennel (room), but as we passed the second a small terrier sounding dog began barking. Lulu flung herself at the door and began singing, clawing and scrabbling at the barrier to her engagement. I just dragged her faster, attempting to balance the bags, and hoping the owner would not open the door. I lunged across the hall, took about three strides, and entered my key card into the door. I wanted to get into my room quickly before I was seen and reported for having a vicious dog with me.
We entered the room, I put the bags on the counter, and turned to sit down on the loveseat. This was just so frustrating, and this rescue ranked up there with one of my least practical impulses. What had I gotten myself into? Was the dog just too reactive for me to manage? She must have sensed my frustration, as she hopped up onto the sofa beside me, ignoring me as I half heartedly tried to shoo her off. Curling up in the crook of my arm, she leaned against my side and laid her head on my chest while gazing up at me. As the manipulator slid down into my lap and closed her eyes to sleep, I laid my hand gently on her almost hairless head and dozed off also.