You may know what it is like to feel "wildly" and uncertain. Thrashing about, flailing and failing away, in a cold world moving much too fast. I certainly do. I know the deep gnawing need for self confidence and security; reliable rules and well known boundaries, actual opportunities, exciting, not frightening, challenges along side support and positive reinforcement. Before I experienced any of those things and the time, relationship, consistency and connections those things require; I was a terror. To myself and everyone else.
I chewed EVERYTHING. Pillows and handmade quilts were my favorites.
I devoured corners of any kind and became an expert on making circles.
Fabric is my favorite medium.
Even when I chewed my quietest she somehow sensed it
and would catch me at my evil handiwork.
She insisted I contribute and not destroy.
I whined constantly. I can make the most pathetic noises that express far more than words ever can or do. But who can't? Anyway. I did so incessantly and I pulled on my lead relentlessly. I'd eat a 12 inch bully stick a day just to work off my anxiety. I worried constantly about my head top and hitting, sudden movements, something bad in the kitchen. I enticed and then skittered and growled. I wanted to be close but I didn't know how. If you looked in my eyes too long I'd go berserk and ricochet off the walls and furniture. Literally.
Eventually it got to the point where she said, "That's how little dogs wind up back at the pound my friend." It wasn't a threat. She was highlighting a fact. Because indeed that is how I wound up at the pound the first time! I drove her to her wits end and then I tried to push her a little further. But she didn't give up. She called the Zen Dog Doctor. The nicest man came over and spent time with us.
Eventually it got to the point where she said, "That's how little dogs wind up back at the pound my friend." It wasn't a threat. She was highlighting a fact. Because indeed that is how I wound up at the pound the first time! I drove her to her wits end and then I tried to push her a little further. But she didn't give up. She called the Zen Dog Doctor. The nicest man came over and spent time with us.