Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer Do, Month # 4

The rescue dog and I are entering our fourth month together. I’d like to say that all is well, and it is, if you disregard her climbing on the kitchen table when no one is looking, or peeing on the rug when it’s raining outside. Oh, and let’s not forget the day I gave her a delicious treat right next to the other dog, and Daisy grabbed the treat so hard she punctured my finger.
I explained to my worker woman how you have to train a puppy not to bite and that the window closes at about twenty weeks. After that, you have lost your chance to teach your dog to have a soft mouth. Pepper got that training since I adopted her at 11 weeks. Daisy did not get that training since I adopted her at three years.
“Teach her now,” the worker woman said.
“It’s too late,” I said.
Instead I have taught myself to give Daisy a treat with the palm of my hand, not my fingers, and to be sure she is nowhere near the other dog when I do so.
Daisy is a snuggler, and she sneaks into laps whenever she can. When my sister falls asleep in the chair, Daisy is right there, sidling her way from one chair to another to get to my sister.
She sits for treats but at the last second raises up to get it. Someone has fed her that way for three years, a hard habit to break.
She pushes her head under my arm when I am trying to work. She walks on my newspaper while I am trying to read it. She whines at the table (someone has fed her that way).
Oh, Daisy! Are you trainable? I hope so.
You jump my four foot front fence, so I had to make it taller with wire. You still growl at Pepper but not while you’re playing with her. You still feel the need to be the first out the door to the back yard when I let the two of you out the slider.
But now you wait at the front door while I am moving my sister in and out. You love your walks so much you attack the leash every time I bring it out, but not as much as you used to. You love your daily walk, rain or shine. You still pull but not as much, and you smile the whole way.
Whenever I sit down in the recliner, you are in my lap. I push you to the side so that I can work on my laptop. You sleep between me and the arm rest. It is a peaceful sleep. You no longer watch me out of the corner of your eye. You trust me. For the most part, I trust you, but I still push in the chairs at the table and take you out on a regular basis even though I have a doggie door.
The vet said to give you doggy tranquilizers. I haven’t done that yet. Daisy, you are a work in progress.
My worker woman said to give you back. She is not a dog person. She doesn’t get it. We have three years to undo. It is going to take some time.

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