Seven Hundred and Thirty Days of Patience and Love: The Buddy Story

By G.G. SilvermanWhen my husband and I first went to meet Buddy, he didn’t greet us the way other dogs did. No enthusiastic tail wagging or jumping up to lick our faces. Instead, he cowered, trying to make himself smaller as he stood quietly beside his adoption coordinator from Motley Zoo Animal Rescue. She asked us if we’d like to walk him, to see how we felt about each other. We took a deep breath, nodded and took the leash. The dog was heart-breakingly timid, but walked beside us beautifully as we stepped outside into the warm August air. He never took his eyes off us, as though he was afraid we’d poof into thin air. We continued this way around the mini mall, the three of us together in lockstep. At the end of the walk, my husband and I looked at each other and thought hard. After our last dog died, we were heartbroken. I had been prone to days where I was so flattened by sadness that my chest hurt, my breath literally crushed out of my body. I simply could not live without a dog. But we didn’t want to adopt just any dog just for the sake of having one. We wanted to make sure we were truly compatible. Buddy seemed so different from our last Boston Terrier, who had been deemed the Best Dog Ever—she was expressive and playful, even downright fearless, whereas Buddy seemed afraid of his own shadow. We weren’t sure if he was The One. Yet, he walked so well and was so focused on us; we knew there was something special inside of him waiting to come out. So we took a leap and adopted him, hoping his calm, gentle presence would sooth our broken souls.When we brought him home, he immediately proceeded to walk endless laps around the house, checking out his surroundings. Despite the many dog beds we had—one in almost every room—he seemed ill at ease for days, earning himself the nickname ‘Buddy the Shark’ for always being on the move. I tried showing him all the dog toys to see if we would be inspired to play, but he’d look at them sadly and turn away, as though the sight of toys bore painful memories. On walks, he would heel obediently, but walked at a death-march pace. Sometimes he would collapse on the ground after 10 minutes. We had heard he’d been crated a good deal of his life—maybe he hadn’t built up enough endurance for even a short walk. And though he’d been crate trained, he became a nervous wreck when we left the house those first few weeks. He started soiling himself and the house, sometimes even destroying his bedding in anxiety, shredding it to bits. He even bloodied his paws once trying to dig out. The poor little dude had so many wonderful qualities, but had severe abandonment issues, and needed patience. He needed to know he was loved, and to have his confidence built up, enjoying small wins over time.A few weeks later, we took him on a long road trip, where we noticed a dramatic shift in his attitude. He seemed to understand when we arrived at our destination that he was there to have fun with us, not to be dumped off. We enjoyed long walks on the beach and hikes in the woods, and when we got back to our cabin, he rolled gleefully on the carpet, behavior we hadn’t witnessed before. He was slowly learning to relax and it was soooooo wonderful to see.But he was far from being fully adjusted. At home again, we were only able to leave him alone for an hour at a time while he slowly relearned his crate training. And we noticed on some walks that unfamiliar men terrified him, especially older white males. When he spotted a gray-haired man walking toward us, he would dart towards the street to get away. He had the same reaction to children at the bus stop. We started learning about how to train fearful dogs, enrolling in fun classes with him and using gentle, positive reinforcement. We started keeping treats in our pockets for walks, and whenever we encountered someone that Buddy might be scared of, we gave him a treat, so he learned to have happy associations with people that once scared him. We also socialized him with a lot with our friends. His confidence began increasing dramatically. Aided by the magic of peanut butter, we were soon crating him longer, finally able to go to the movies without having to hire a dogsitter. By the end of the first year, he was fully crate-trained again, and could be home alone for 4-6 hours without negative consequences. The biggest leap was when we decided to leave him home alone uncrated for the first time ever. We were understandably nervous—what would he do? The good news: he handled it like an ace and was extra happy when we got home, wearing a big grin that said, Mumma and Daddy, I am a big boy now! During that time, Buddy started coming out of his shell even more and has proved to be a loving, dignified companion. I love how he sleeps quietly under my desk while I work, taking breaks for training or walks, and is ready for a ride or adventure at a moment’s notice, especially if it means running on the beach, his favorite new thing.There was one last frontier, though. Even after a year, he still wouldn’t initiate play. It seemed he was afraid of losing control, or didn’t want set himself up for disappointment. Then, one day, almost two years after we brought him home, he happily started parading around with a toy in his mouth, teasing Daddy to join him. And Daddy did just that. Since then, he plays happily throughout the day, and shows us his true self, allowing his smiley, goofy side to come out pretty frequently, inspiring laughter in all those who witness.Just think: Two years. Two years of patience, understanding, gentleness. Seven hundred and thirty days.Was all that effort worth it?Yes.Hell yes.He’s one of the best friends I will ever have, and healed a huge hole in our hearts. And training him to be confident increased my own confidence in ways I never imagined. Since he came into my life, I have tackled some things I never, ever thought I would do, things that used to crush stone cold fear into my heart.Together, we are learning.We love you, Buddy.