This dog story about Will was published in creaturesall magazine in 2008Alberta based magazine creaturesall published Will's dog story in the their June-July 2008 issue.
Davie came to us as a foster dog when she was four months old. Hubby Mike, our daughter Yana, Baywolf and I fell head over heels for that cutest ever puppy. If there would be such a category, Davie would have qualified for the shortest lasting foster dog in history. After about two minutes we decided unanimously that we would keep her. Davie's happiness became our priority. The concern how she would manage without a canine companion when much older Baywolf passes, was compressed into a four-word thought: "Davie needs another friend". It rooted and quickly evolved into a daydream that included my selfish desires as well. The anticipatory excitement of a new dog, the puppy cuddling, the opportunities to teach afresh, without past, inadvertently made training mistakes, branched into my mind. Although I visited that daydream often, this third dog of ours remained imageless for some six months, until, on one of our many walks together, my friend shared the story of a five months old mutt in need of a new home. Female, brown-coated with a black shepherd nose, longhaired and fuzzy-eared, she seemed right up my alley and I felt a tender bond form right away. That the pup was feral born, and, despite the qualified efforts of her foster family, was still extremely afraid of humans and human touch, did not discourage me. Dog expertise and patience, both of which I prided myself on, would surely be enough to make up for the missed human imprinting during her impressionable first few weeks of life. I welcomed the challenge and named the pup accordingly Willkommen; welcome in German.
Just as thoughts and feelings manifest if pursued persistently, I also believe that words carry energy. The identity we attach to a name sends vibrations of our intentions and expectations into the universe, available to be picked up by likeminded organisms, and the ones closest to us. Baywolf was named after the legendary hero Beowulf, adapted to reflect his ocean heritage. He loved water, and was a grounded, intact dog to lean on. Davie was named by her first owners and we felt that her boy's name suited her sassy confidence and extroverted personality. Willkommen, forced to live with humans, felt lost amongst them. I hoped that her name would somehow convey that we wished to care for her. As a bonus, with her calling name Will, we'd continue the theme: boys' names for girl dogs.
Davie and Baywolf included her into their canine group instantly, almost as if they understood the meaning of Will's name. They became my first support group in Will's rehab. Having lived with dogs before she was trapped, and bonded to five in her foster home, it was dogs she was comfortable with. They provided social belonging, but could not give her the secure feeling of social safety that only humans can. Yet, everything I did, my mere presence, frightened Will. She chose a physical and emotional distance and panicked; hyperventilated and involuntarily voided whenever I tried to approach. She let me hand-feed her after a two-day, self-imposed fast, because she was too afraid to eat on her own. Any other touch resulted in stress expelled anal sacs, filling the house with a malodorous smell. My calming signals frightened her; when I talked to her softly she began to drool and shed; an offered treat, or any perceived attention caused her to mindlessly and fleetingly search for an escape or hiding place, followed by a default down position, in which she remained frozen for hours.
Everything new, even if introduced ever so gently, set her world off kilter and she shut down, refusing to do anything, settling into her paralyzed existence. When Will was almost three years old, we had a breakthrough. A leap that catalyzed trust and confidence. We always enjoyed hiking in the Alberta Rockies, and that summer we joined a recreational tracking group.
Will always loved to explore her environment with her nose. The task of using her skill to find a person addressed her canine within, and at the same time put humans in a new perspective. The fact that we worked as a team glued us together. For the first time, I was not solving her problems for her, but solving a problem with her. I did not ask her to rely on me for safety, but guided her to her find her own confidence. The mountains became associated with strength and success and our special place to return to whenever daily routine and small troubles deflected from what our relationship ought to be like. It was on a day hike two years later, in Kananaskis Country, that I felt that Will had reached the limit of her potential. We had both dogs off leash and Will, the whole day, alternated perfectly between "being obedient without control" and "in charge when need be". A perfect balance between self-confidence and complete trust in us; domesticated cognitive ability fused with core animal instinct; tuned into us and a nature that excludes all humans at the same time. Will had become the dog I envisioned in my daydreams more than four years prior. We accomplished what I aim for with all my dogs: unspoken and uncontrolled connection. I stopped journaling her progress that day.
Country Paws Dog Daycare - 371 Railway Street W. - 403-851-5588 See if Doris is in, Will's first foster mom.
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