Sometimes my little dog seems to regress. I watch her as she curls up in the chair across the room and feigns sleep – the alert, spotted ears constantly twitching and turning at the slightest noise. I call her to me, as I sit quietly on the sofa, making no startling noises. Her ears tilt back at my voice, and those soft brown eyes part slightly in acknowledgement, and then they close again. She does not want human contact right now.
The night before she had curled into my arms as fireworks exploded outside. I could feel her body shaking as the adrenaline coursed through her bunched muscles – shaking with rage. Earlier, she had charged through the yard screaming, trying to find the source of the enemy noises. I had finally managed to capture her and drag her back into the house. I carried her to the sofa as she cartwheeled wildly in my arms, jamming sharp pointy elbows into my jaw and neck. I collapsed onto the couch, hugging her solid, muscular body close. She slowly calmed down, curled into my lap, and glared balefully out the window, the glow of anger slowly receding from her eyes as the bristles flattened along her neck.
A few minutes later she crashed from her adrenaline high, tucked her face into the crook of my arm,and melted across my lap, into a light, twitching sleep.
Lu really only has one fear, and it is humans. I know she wants to trust me, but five years after rescuing her, I don’t think she will ever completely be able to flee her demons. So, I just love her as best I can, and when the rage rises I hold her tight, or sit back and let it run it’s course in a safe place.
I think I love her more than the others because I can see what she is in the good moments. I also admire her, because through it all she has kept her dignity and pride. She is her own dog that wants to depend on nobody, and I know that deep inside her, it is really fear that drives the rage.
She is a dog that faces life with the most fierce determination and will power I have ever seen, and I always feel fortunate she came into my life.