It's been a good 6 months since our last post. At first our silence was mostly due to guilt about not agreeing with, nor following through with, the trainer's advice. And then... to not wanting to jinx something that seemed like it might really have worked.
First, the guilt. The steps the trainer was having us take were making things so much worse. Where Marlo was once leave-able during the days, he had now become intolerant of Mike so much as shifting around in his arm chair. Every movement seemed to signal, "he's leaving me!" and Marlo would jump up from a full slumber to head toward the door.
This was simply not sustainable, and with Mike's high school coaching gig starting in January, he was going to need to leave Marlo each weekday from 2:30 - 6 p.m. We couldn't keep this up.
Mike decided to go back to square one his own way. Each morning while working from home he built up tiny, incremental bits of time when he would leave Marlo and sit on the other side of the front door. He would eventually take his laptop with him and work from the stairway. Success bred success, and Marlo became OK with Mike being on the "other side of the door". Then Mike started to leave the house entirely and work from the corner cafe for short, then longer times. And then he started to leave for baseball. Each day he would take Marlo out to the median to pee just before 2:30. He'd let Marlo back in the apartment, and then close the door behind him - never walking in the apartment with Marlo. This behavior became the golden ticket. And just as baseball season began, so too did Marlo begin to stay home alone.
After a few weeks of Mike's success, I was ready to try leaving Marlo, too. I practiced when I was home alone with Marlo. We'd go out for his afternoon fetching, and I would bring him back, let him inside, and close the door quietly behind him. I could then leave, and he was calm.
We might return to a dog nest in the bed, shoes scattered about the apartment, or pillows on the ground, but never to anything destructive, and never to barking or howling.
Mike is confident that he found his, "doggy-zen" and can typically leave Marlo in most situations now. I'm still working on that level of enlightenment, and need conditions to be relatively ideal for the departure to go without a hitch. We still can't leave at the same time, nor have we practiced that much.
The difference our ability to leave him at all has made in our lives, however, has been extraordinary, and we've spent a good 3 months engaged in normal social lives - going out to dinner together, visiting friends without the dog in tow, and feeling confident being away from home for longer than 4 hours at a time.
We are making the most of our freedom, because as hard-won as it's been, it's about to disappear altogether. Marlo might be fine on his own, but the baby is due in 8 days...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Paw pad problems
A day or two before Christmas, Marlo tracked bloody paw prints down the hall after his morning run. He wasn't limping, or otherwise showing pain, but a quick examination revealed a one inch gash in his right front paw pad (likely earned by running over a broken beer bottle left in the grass at Dolores Park).
We used a warm, wet washcloth to clean it off, covered it with a doggy antibacterial cream, and wrapped it up in a bandage. For good measure, we pulled a sock over our masterful first-aid contraption, which we taped around his ankle so that he wouldn't pull the bandage off.
Unfortunately, he bled through that bandage (and sock) and several more. So it was back to the vet with Marlo for a professional opinion.
The results? A very deep wound that probably needed stitches. Which of course were projected to cost $750 to perform. Again, weighing the risks, we opted instead to wait and see if it would heal naturally. So Marlo got a thorough flushing of the area and a professional bandaging, and we were left with strict orders to NOT remove the bandage ourselves, not let the bandage get wet, and to return in 3 days.
Poor, miserable Marlo was now sporting a spiffy blue leg warmer (to be covered by a heavy plastic IV bag whenever we went outside) and was prohibited from running or exercise for TWO weeks. Not content to suffer alone, Marlo milked this new development for all it was worth. On a family walk down to Castro street, Marlo and I sat on a bench waiting for Mike to finish a few errands. Marlo laid his head down upon his good, left paw, stuck his bandaged right paw out straight into the sidewalk, and directed his sad brown eyes woefully up at all passersby. And what a pity-party ensued! The amount of love and attention he received for this forlorn form was impressive, and I was regaled with empathetic tales of other dramatic cuts on other dogs over the years.
We lucked out this time, and after 10 days and 2 more visits to the vet for bandage changes, the wound was clearly healing back together on its own with no need for stitches. Marlo's been a trooper with all the fuss, never once eating his bandage off or resisting treatment.
Here's to a healthier new decade with the dog!
We used a warm, wet washcloth to clean it off, covered it with a doggy antibacterial cream, and wrapped it up in a bandage. For good measure, we pulled a sock over our masterful first-aid contraption, which we taped around his ankle so that he wouldn't pull the bandage off.
Unfortunately, he bled through that bandage (and sock) and several more. So it was back to the vet with Marlo for a professional opinion.
The results? A very deep wound that probably needed stitches. Which of course were projected to cost $750 to perform. Again, weighing the risks, we opted instead to wait and see if it would heal naturally. So Marlo got a thorough flushing of the area and a professional bandaging, and we were left with strict orders to NOT remove the bandage ourselves, not let the bandage get wet, and to return in 3 days.
Poor, miserable Marlo was now sporting a spiffy blue leg warmer (to be covered by a heavy plastic IV bag whenever we went outside) and was prohibited from running or exercise for TWO weeks. Not content to suffer alone, Marlo milked this new development for all it was worth. On a family walk down to Castro street, Marlo and I sat on a bench waiting for Mike to finish a few errands. Marlo laid his head down upon his good, left paw, stuck his bandaged right paw out straight into the sidewalk, and directed his sad brown eyes woefully up at all passersby. And what a pity-party ensued! The amount of love and attention he received for this forlorn form was impressive, and I was regaled with empathetic tales of other dramatic cuts on other dogs over the years.
We lucked out this time, and after 10 days and 2 more visits to the vet for bandage changes, the wound was clearly healing back together on its own with no need for stitches. Marlo's been a trooper with all the fuss, never once eating his bandage off or resisting treatment.
Here's to a healthier new decade with the dog!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Boarding in the East Bay
Weekend nights are the hardest to leave Marlo, and the hardest to find a sitter, too. So last night, when Mike and I both wanted to join our friends at a no-dogs-allowed BBQ, we took him to his new kennel across the Bay. We figured it would be a good trial run for Thanksgiving when we leave him for a week to go on our pseudo-honeymoon in Hawaii.
The report from the kennel was overall good: Marlo played eagerly during playtime, and rested appropriately afterward. He ate his meals, and settled down for the night with his roommate, Rufus, with whom he became fast friends. There were some areas for improvement offered, too: 1) he can be sneaky. Apparently Marlo slipped through an open gate when he wasn't supposed to. It didn't sound like a huge deal, but they kept a closer eye on him after that. 2) When Marlo meets a dog he likes, he licks his or her face incessantly. Dogs don't always tolerate this, so he needs to cut this out. 3) Marlo got very lonely after Rufus left. Rufus was picked up early this morning, and Marlo howled and barked when he was left on his own.
So, despite him being hoarse and subdued today, it's good to know that they kept such close tabs on him, and that they found him a perfect match for the night. Meanwhile, Mike and I had a great time out with friends, and even got to eat indoors at a restaurant together during his stay.
We'll add his areas for growth to the list...
The report from the kennel was overall good: Marlo played eagerly during playtime, and rested appropriately afterward. He ate his meals, and settled down for the night with his roommate, Rufus, with whom he became fast friends. There were some areas for improvement offered, too: 1) he can be sneaky. Apparently Marlo slipped through an open gate when he wasn't supposed to. It didn't sound like a huge deal, but they kept a closer eye on him after that. 2) When Marlo meets a dog he likes, he licks his or her face incessantly. Dogs don't always tolerate this, so he needs to cut this out. 3) Marlo got very lonely after Rufus left. Rufus was picked up early this morning, and Marlo howled and barked when he was left on his own.
So, despite him being hoarse and subdued today, it's good to know that they kept such close tabs on him, and that they found him a perfect match for the night. Meanwhile, Mike and I had a great time out with friends, and even got to eat indoors at a restaurant together during his stay.
We'll add his areas for growth to the list...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
R-E-L-I-E-F
Joy and celebration across the land!! With a little help from a second vet, Marlo barfed up the remains of the errant tennis ball late this morning.
We are absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude for this ending to the foreign-object adventure. Here's how the saga unfolded...
Saturday morning a vet from Friday called to check in on Marlo. He strongly urged that we bring Marlo back in for the surgery since nothing had passed yet.
But Marlo was in good spirits, he was still enthusiastically eating, and we wanted to give it more time.
We read all sorts of opinions on the internet, and decided to add some pureed pumpkin to his cottage cheese and rice diet as a rich source of fiber that might encourage poop. Then mid-day, Mike had a brilliant idea. We took Marlo to Ft. Funston - both his favorite place in the city to run around, and a place he simply can't resist poo-ing with gusto all over the Ice Plant groundcover. There, Marlo got a bit out, but it seemed painful, and certainly offered us nothing to celebrate.
Again at dinner, Marlo wolfed down his dish and was acting himself, if a little mellower than usual, for the rest of the night. But when Sunday morning did not elicit a poop, we agreed to take him in to a new vet for a second opinion.
This visit lacked the urgent, emergency nature of the first visit, and the veterinarian was much more comfortable offering an array of options. We could induce vomiting, scope the object out, or go to surgery.
Since Marlo hadn't vomited in 36 hours, that seemed like the easiest (and cheapest) step to try first.
As the nurse took him back for his opiate-based shot, Mike and I returned to the waiting room to worry about our finances and plan for the worst. Less than 10 minutes later, however, we were called back to the exam room, the relieved veterinarian proudly displaying 1/3 of a tennis ball covered in sticky vomit on a surgical sheet. Hoorays, high-fives and hugs for all!
Now the poor pup's a bit woozy and wobbly from the drug, but ultimately should be no worse for wear.
Thank you to all of our friends and loved ones who were rooting for a happy ending. We're so relieved we got one.
And to our tennis ball eating dog... never again, buddy. Never again.
We are absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude for this ending to the foreign-object adventure. Here's how the saga unfolded...
Saturday morning a vet from Friday called to check in on Marlo. He strongly urged that we bring Marlo back in for the surgery since nothing had passed yet.
But Marlo was in good spirits, he was still enthusiastically eating, and we wanted to give it more time.
We read all sorts of opinions on the internet, and decided to add some pureed pumpkin to his cottage cheese and rice diet as a rich source of fiber that might encourage poop. Then mid-day, Mike had a brilliant idea. We took Marlo to Ft. Funston - both his favorite place in the city to run around, and a place he simply can't resist poo-ing with gusto all over the Ice Plant groundcover. There, Marlo got a bit out, but it seemed painful, and certainly offered us nothing to celebrate.
Again at dinner, Marlo wolfed down his dish and was acting himself, if a little mellower than usual, for the rest of the night. But when Sunday morning did not elicit a poop, we agreed to take him in to a new vet for a second opinion.
This visit lacked the urgent, emergency nature of the first visit, and the veterinarian was much more comfortable offering an array of options. We could induce vomiting, scope the object out, or go to surgery.
Since Marlo hadn't vomited in 36 hours, that seemed like the easiest (and cheapest) step to try first.
As the nurse took him back for his opiate-based shot, Mike and I returned to the waiting room to worry about our finances and plan for the worst. Less than 10 minutes later, however, we were called back to the exam room, the relieved veterinarian proudly displaying 1/3 of a tennis ball covered in sticky vomit on a surgical sheet. Hoorays, high-fives and hugs for all!
Now the poor pup's a bit woozy and wobbly from the drug, but ultimately should be no worse for wear.
Thank you to all of our friends and loved ones who were rooting for a happy ending. We're so relieved we got one.
And to our tennis ball eating dog... never again, buddy. Never again.
Friday, October 23, 2009
ER Visit
If it's not one thing, it's another.
We met with Kelley the trainer again on Wednesday, and decided to slow things waaaaay down. We have new, simpler homework and are exploring medications. Meanwhile, Marlo is supposed to eat all of his food from frozen kongs, so that he's expending as much mental energy as possible throughout the day.
So we're committed to the new plan, but Thursday things changed. Marlo threw up in the hallway in the late afternoon. Dog vomit is a pretty normal occasional occurence, so we didn't worry too much about it. At 3 a.m., however, he was up and vomiting again. At lunchtime Friday, our hallway was covered with Marlo's bile and barf, and I received a panicked call at school from Mike.
I sped home to drive Marlo to the doggie emergency room, where they took some x-rays (for which our poor sep-anx dog needed sedation) and found a foreign object in his stomach. Best guess? Tennis ball, or a large piece of one.
And now we've got a frustrating choice. Either we do a quick and easy and oh, $3000 surgery to remove the object, or we keep him comfortable and pray he passes it on his own.
We opted for 24 hours of the latter. The vet gave him IV fluids, a nausea suppressant, and some pepcid to coat his tummy, and we brought him home last night. We're now feeding him cottage cheese and white rice, and taking him out to see if he'll poo every few hours.
We're keeping a close eye on danger signs... lethargy, a return to vomiting, unwillingness to eat or drink, and lack of poop. So far he seems fine, save the pooping.
Never before have we rooted so hard for Marlo to take a crap.
We'll keep you posted...
We met with Kelley the trainer again on Wednesday, and decided to slow things waaaaay down. We have new, simpler homework and are exploring medications. Meanwhile, Marlo is supposed to eat all of his food from frozen kongs, so that he's expending as much mental energy as possible throughout the day.
So we're committed to the new plan, but Thursday things changed. Marlo threw up in the hallway in the late afternoon. Dog vomit is a pretty normal occasional occurence, so we didn't worry too much about it. At 3 a.m., however, he was up and vomiting again. At lunchtime Friday, our hallway was covered with Marlo's bile and barf, and I received a panicked call at school from Mike.
I sped home to drive Marlo to the doggie emergency room, where they took some x-rays (for which our poor sep-anx dog needed sedation) and found a foreign object in his stomach. Best guess? Tennis ball, or a large piece of one.
And now we've got a frustrating choice. Either we do a quick and easy and oh, $3000 surgery to remove the object, or we keep him comfortable and pray he passes it on his own.
We opted for 24 hours of the latter. The vet gave him IV fluids, a nausea suppressant, and some pepcid to coat his tummy, and we brought him home last night. We're now feeding him cottage cheese and white rice, and taking him out to see if he'll poo every few hours.
We're keeping a close eye on danger signs... lethargy, a return to vomiting, unwillingness to eat or drink, and lack of poop. So far he seems fine, save the pooping.
Never before have we rooted so hard for Marlo to take a crap.
We'll keep you posted...
Monday, October 12, 2009
Status Check
A week and a half ago our trainer left us with 3 homework assignments. To date, we've seen little change in Mr. Marlo's response to our "leaving stimuli."
So far, he still comes to find us immediately if he hears the jingle of keys or the rustle of a coat. He still bounds up eagerly from a sound sleep when we call out, "alright dog, we're out of here!" and races in front of us as we walk halfway down the hall.
We weren't expecting miracles, and we know we need to keep up the practice.
In the meantime, we continue our tightly choreographed dance with the dog.
Mike got to go out Friday evening for sushi and drinks with friends as Marlo and I stayed in watching bad TV (somehow my shows of choice this season are Drop Dead Diva, Glee and 90210. I'm certainly not proud of this line-up, but I'm mysteriously hooked on these ridiculous melodramas).
Saturday was my turn, so a friend and I enjoyed dinner at a new restaurant and watched a play downtown while Mike and Marlo chilled (with Top Chef and Project Runway... though he'd deny it all the way...)
Sunday all 3 of us made dinner at Dan and Khamara's house.
And today, a holiday from work, I got to go to yoga and get a haircut as Mike worked from home. Things got a bit iffy there for a moment when my stylist was 20 minutes late (I panicked when I arrived on time and noted the long, thick, soaking wet hair on her client that she was just beginning to blow dry). This meant I wouldn't be home in time to relieve Mike so that he could meet up for a planning dinner with the co-coach of his highschool baseball team. Luckily, the haircut was done at light-speed and the salon was on Mike's route to dinner. He showed up with Marlo for the hand-off just as I was writing my stylist a check. Phew.
A typical weekend with our a-typical dog.
So far, he still comes to find us immediately if he hears the jingle of keys or the rustle of a coat. He still bounds up eagerly from a sound sleep when we call out, "alright dog, we're out of here!" and races in front of us as we walk halfway down the hall.
We weren't expecting miracles, and we know we need to keep up the practice.
In the meantime, we continue our tightly choreographed dance with the dog.
Mike got to go out Friday evening for sushi and drinks with friends as Marlo and I stayed in watching bad TV (somehow my shows of choice this season are Drop Dead Diva, Glee and 90210. I'm certainly not proud of this line-up, but I'm mysteriously hooked on these ridiculous melodramas).
Saturday was my turn, so a friend and I enjoyed dinner at a new restaurant and watched a play downtown while Mike and Marlo chilled (with Top Chef and Project Runway... though he'd deny it all the way...)
Sunday all 3 of us made dinner at Dan and Khamara's house.
And today, a holiday from work, I got to go to yoga and get a haircut as Mike worked from home. Things got a bit iffy there for a moment when my stylist was 20 minutes late (I panicked when I arrived on time and noted the long, thick, soaking wet hair on her client that she was just beginning to blow dry). This meant I wouldn't be home in time to relieve Mike so that he could meet up for a planning dinner with the co-coach of his highschool baseball team. Luckily, the haircut was done at light-speed and the salon was on Mike's route to dinner. He showed up with Marlo for the hand-off just as I was writing my stylist a check. Phew.
A typical weekend with our a-typical dog.
Friday, October 9, 2009
A dog's trial
Having a special-needs dog when working as an administrator at a school is not always the best reference point.
Too often, I find myself internally commiserating with a parent or teacher about a child's frustrating behavior. Not because I'm a parent myself, but because Marlo's issues are often so very toddler-like, and the expert guidance is often similar: be consistent; be loving but firm; be clear about your expectations; celebrate when they've done something good; overlook the little mistakes, and give them a time-out for the big ones.
I completely understand that these parallels between child and dog could be insulting to any reasonable parent, so I bite my tongue each time I hear about an energetic young person who just needs to "run it off" on the playground before the parents can get anything done on the weekends. I've never once suggested anyone buy a Chuck-It for child use, though sometimes I fantasize myself asking, "Have you ever filled one of those rubber Kongs with peanut butter and frozen it? That keeps Marlo occupied for hours...")
I work at a private school where families must apply for admission. They write essays, tour the school, and have individual interviews with the admissions team while their children are observed in a classroom setting. The anxiety of many of these families is palpable. They desperately want their son or daughter to behave well, to appear smart and to play well with others, so that our school is an option for them.
Mike and I recently learned firsthand how nervewrecking this is...
After Marlo came home hoarse and traumatized from his recent stay (during our wedding) at a mediocre kennel, we decided enough was enough. We were eager to plan a honeymoon, but refused to leave him there again. We'd heard great things about a kennel in the East Bay run by dog trainers who have a very "dog-centered" approach. And as soon as we called for an introduction appointment, we entered the equivalent of the admissions nightmare.
On our assigned trial visit day, we grabbed Marlo's file and the three of us headed across the Bay Bridge. When we turned onto the kennel's street, Marlo started whining hysterically. He could smell dogs in the air, and his excitement (anxiety?) raged out of control. I could feel my own heart racing. What if he behaves terribly? What if he won't stop barking? What if they won't take him!?!??
We sat down to fill out paperwork while Marlo's whimpers reached a crescendo. What type of food does he eat? Nature's Variety. Has he ever been boarded before? Yes, but we didn't think it was a good place for him. Is he on medication? No, but we're seriously considering Xanax...now. Is there anything special we should know? Er, that our dog is a completely lovable basketcase who has imprisoned us in our home and we desperately need you to accept him please, oh please, because otherwise we'll never get to go on a honeymoon...ever?!?!?
The kennel director kindly took Marlo's leash and handed him to a trainer for his assessment while Mike and I joined 6 other dog-parents in a cramped room to hear about the overview and approach of the kennel. The session was inspiring! It resonated with everything we wanted for our dog. We fell more and more in love with this kennel, and simultaneously more and more certain that Marlo was ruining his evaluation.We exchanged worried glances each time a high-pitched bark rang out. There were dozens of dogs in the building, but we were positive it was Marlo each time we heard a piercing woof.
A tour followed, and the facilities were fabulous. Clean (and clean smelling!), spacious and airy, with many different indoor and outdoor playfields where appropriately-grouped dogs played many hours each day. Our awe increased when we were told, "sometimes our sep-anx dogs stay with the person on the night shift if they don't want to sleep in their rooms. They'll walk with the counselor on rounds and hang out at the desk until morning." Hallelujah! A place that truly understands dogs individual needs, and supports each appropriately!
By the time the 45 minute tour ended, I was near sick with worry. We NEEDED this amazing kennel for Marlo (I could practically feel the warm Hawaiian sand beneath my toes) but what if he'd blown it?
The trainer came out with the first dog and began to give her glowing report in front of the entire tour group. Mike and I shrank back to the chairs by the door. We didn't want to hear our fate condemned in public, preferring to deal with our humiliation and disappointment at the impending "NO" verdict away from the superior stares of owners with perfectly well-adjusted dogs.
And then she approached. With a smile! "He passed," she told us. He barked a bit at first, but then settled down. He was FINE.
We'd made it through the gauntlet with true appreciation for this new opportunity, and for me, with a new compassion for the hundreds of prospective parents eager to find the right school (though I promise not to tell them where it came from).
Too often, I find myself internally commiserating with a parent or teacher about a child's frustrating behavior. Not because I'm a parent myself, but because Marlo's issues are often so very toddler-like, and the expert guidance is often similar: be consistent; be loving but firm; be clear about your expectations; celebrate when they've done something good; overlook the little mistakes, and give them a time-out for the big ones.
I completely understand that these parallels between child and dog could be insulting to any reasonable parent, so I bite my tongue each time I hear about an energetic young person who just needs to "run it off" on the playground before the parents can get anything done on the weekends. I've never once suggested anyone buy a Chuck-It for child use, though sometimes I fantasize myself asking, "Have you ever filled one of those rubber Kongs with peanut butter and frozen it? That keeps Marlo occupied for hours...")
I work at a private school where families must apply for admission. They write essays, tour the school, and have individual interviews with the admissions team while their children are observed in a classroom setting. The anxiety of many of these families is palpable. They desperately want their son or daughter to behave well, to appear smart and to play well with others, so that our school is an option for them.
Mike and I recently learned firsthand how nervewrecking this is...
After Marlo came home hoarse and traumatized from his recent stay (during our wedding) at a mediocre kennel, we decided enough was enough. We were eager to plan a honeymoon, but refused to leave him there again. We'd heard great things about a kennel in the East Bay run by dog trainers who have a very "dog-centered" approach. And as soon as we called for an introduction appointment, we entered the equivalent of the admissions nightmare.
On our assigned trial visit day, we grabbed Marlo's file and the three of us headed across the Bay Bridge. When we turned onto the kennel's street, Marlo started whining hysterically. He could smell dogs in the air, and his excitement (anxiety?) raged out of control. I could feel my own heart racing. What if he behaves terribly? What if he won't stop barking? What if they won't take him!?!??
We sat down to fill out paperwork while Marlo's whimpers reached a crescendo. What type of food does he eat? Nature's Variety. Has he ever been boarded before? Yes, but we didn't think it was a good place for him. Is he on medication? No, but we're seriously considering Xanax...now. Is there anything special we should know? Er, that our dog is a completely lovable basketcase who has imprisoned us in our home and we desperately need you to accept him please, oh please, because otherwise we'll never get to go on a honeymoon...ever?!?!?
The kennel director kindly took Marlo's leash and handed him to a trainer for his assessment while Mike and I joined 6 other dog-parents in a cramped room to hear about the overview and approach of the kennel. The session was inspiring! It resonated with everything we wanted for our dog. We fell more and more in love with this kennel, and simultaneously more and more certain that Marlo was ruining his evaluation.We exchanged worried glances each time a high-pitched bark rang out. There were dozens of dogs in the building, but we were positive it was Marlo each time we heard a piercing woof.
A tour followed, and the facilities were fabulous. Clean (and clean smelling!), spacious and airy, with many different indoor and outdoor playfields where appropriately-grouped dogs played many hours each day. Our awe increased when we were told, "sometimes our sep-anx dogs stay with the person on the night shift if they don't want to sleep in their rooms. They'll walk with the counselor on rounds and hang out at the desk until morning." Hallelujah! A place that truly understands dogs individual needs, and supports each appropriately!
By the time the 45 minute tour ended, I was near sick with worry. We NEEDED this amazing kennel for Marlo (I could practically feel the warm Hawaiian sand beneath my toes) but what if he'd blown it?
The trainer came out with the first dog and began to give her glowing report in front of the entire tour group. Mike and I shrank back to the chairs by the door. We didn't want to hear our fate condemned in public, preferring to deal with our humiliation and disappointment at the impending "NO" verdict away from the superior stares of owners with perfectly well-adjusted dogs.
And then she approached. With a smile! "He passed," she told us. He barked a bit at first, but then settled down. He was FINE.
We'd made it through the gauntlet with true appreciation for this new opportunity, and for me, with a new compassion for the hundreds of prospective parents eager to find the right school (though I promise not to tell them where it came from).
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