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Dec. 30th, 2007 10:05 pmBella has been settling in very well. Tollers typically take a while to warm up to people they don't know, and her breeder had cautioned me "not to expect too much in the first couple of weeks" in the way of bonding. However, I've been here before, so I had a strategy.
When I was in high school, my thing was riding. My parents bought me a horse--well, technically he was a large pony, but he was only an inch shy from being a full-fledged horse--just before I turned 15 years old. His stable name was Kommanche, he was all black except for two white socks on his hind legs, and he was widely renowned as "the Black Bastard." He didn't like people very much. He particularly didn't like being used as a "school horse"--that is, being ridden by students in lessons. Lessons on weekdays started at 5 pm. Animals can tell time perfectly well, and Kommanche used to go into a foul mood every day around 4:30 pm. He'd stand in his stall with his ears flat back, kick the boards, and refuse to interact with anyone. He chased any number of people (including me) out of his stall. He actually managed to knock someone's filling out once (don't ask me how--I haven't a clue).
I'd ridden him quite often before he became mine because I had had a lot of lessons on him. He was mostly well behaved once a student was up on his back, but he sure was grumpy with them in the barn. I was more than a little intimidated by him and had to think of some way of getting him to like me. So I decided that every time I walked past his stall--every single time, even if I'd seen him 20 times already that day--that I'd give him a treat. A handful of grass, a piece of apple, a Lifesaver (he loved Lifesavers and Certs), anything. I spent hours at the barn most days and made special trips to walk past his stall over and over and feed him something. It took about two weeks (maybe less) for El Grumpo to decide that I was the best person ever. If I was in the barn, he was sunshine itself: goofy, playful, happy as a clam. As soon as I left, he'd revert to being the Black Bastard.
A couple of years later, he contracted equine influenza and nearly died from it. I swear his life must have passed before his eyes while he was quarantined in a cow barn, because his whole personality got a facelift. Suddenly, and forever after, he liked people. Well, most of them--he never did warm up to tall men. But that's another story.
My point, and I do have one, is that if I could win the heart of the Black Bastard, an aloof Toller didn't stand a chance of staying that way. Dogs are piggier than horses. So I started the flow of treats to Bella when I picked her up at the airport. It took several to persuade her to come out of her crate and several more to get her down the steps of the building and into the van. Jim and I took turns feeding her treats all the way back to Peterborough. The next day, we took her for a long walk to stretch her legs after having spent so much time cooped up in airports and airplanes, and supplied her with treats every 50 or 100 yards. We spent Christmas evening at Jim's sister's house and left Bella at home because she was still tired and timid and the place was going to be packed--her head would have exploded if she'd been introduced to all those adults and kids at once. I came home at midnight and took her out to the backyard to pee before going to bed. She was so happy to see me that she danced around in the snow on her hind legs and boxed me with her front paws. That's when I knew she was my dog.
A couple of weeks to start bonding with me? Hah! Try 24 hours. :-)
Kommanche was a tough sell. He'd had six or seven years of not liking anyone. Bella? Just a big fluffy puppy with good teeth.
When I was in high school, my thing was riding. My parents bought me a horse--well, technically he was a large pony, but he was only an inch shy from being a full-fledged horse--just before I turned 15 years old. His stable name was Kommanche, he was all black except for two white socks on his hind legs, and he was widely renowned as "the Black Bastard." He didn't like people very much. He particularly didn't like being used as a "school horse"--that is, being ridden by students in lessons. Lessons on weekdays started at 5 pm. Animals can tell time perfectly well, and Kommanche used to go into a foul mood every day around 4:30 pm. He'd stand in his stall with his ears flat back, kick the boards, and refuse to interact with anyone. He chased any number of people (including me) out of his stall. He actually managed to knock someone's filling out once (don't ask me how--I haven't a clue).
I'd ridden him quite often before he became mine because I had had a lot of lessons on him. He was mostly well behaved once a student was up on his back, but he sure was grumpy with them in the barn. I was more than a little intimidated by him and had to think of some way of getting him to like me. So I decided that every time I walked past his stall--every single time, even if I'd seen him 20 times already that day--that I'd give him a treat. A handful of grass, a piece of apple, a Lifesaver (he loved Lifesavers and Certs), anything. I spent hours at the barn most days and made special trips to walk past his stall over and over and feed him something. It took about two weeks (maybe less) for El Grumpo to decide that I was the best person ever. If I was in the barn, he was sunshine itself: goofy, playful, happy as a clam. As soon as I left, he'd revert to being the Black Bastard.
A couple of years later, he contracted equine influenza and nearly died from it. I swear his life must have passed before his eyes while he was quarantined in a cow barn, because his whole personality got a facelift. Suddenly, and forever after, he liked people. Well, most of them--he never did warm up to tall men. But that's another story.
My point, and I do have one, is that if I could win the heart of the Black Bastard, an aloof Toller didn't stand a chance of staying that way. Dogs are piggier than horses. So I started the flow of treats to Bella when I picked her up at the airport. It took several to persuade her to come out of her crate and several more to get her down the steps of the building and into the van. Jim and I took turns feeding her treats all the way back to Peterborough. The next day, we took her for a long walk to stretch her legs after having spent so much time cooped up in airports and airplanes, and supplied her with treats every 50 or 100 yards. We spent Christmas evening at Jim's sister's house and left Bella at home because she was still tired and timid and the place was going to be packed--her head would have exploded if she'd been introduced to all those adults and kids at once. I came home at midnight and took her out to the backyard to pee before going to bed. She was so happy to see me that she danced around in the snow on her hind legs and boxed me with her front paws. That's when I knew she was my dog.
A couple of weeks to start bonding with me? Hah! Try 24 hours. :-)
Kommanche was a tough sell. He'd had six or seven years of not liking anyone. Bella? Just a big fluffy puppy with good teeth.
