I thought that I knew everything about having a dog, that there was no dog I couldn’t train, nothing I couldn’t conquer. I trusted my instincts would see me through. Indeed, a lot of my identity was tied up in being great with dogs. Truth be told, I fancied myself a Dog Whisperer. And then, along came Cheyenne. Two and a half years later, Cheyenne’s only 2 “tricks” are “Sit” and “High Five”. “High Five” occurs without fail, because there is a treat. “Sit” occurs 98% of the time, and of the successful attempts, most of those occur with additional prompting, such as “What do you need to do?” and/or gentle tapping on her flank. Often “Sit” is successful because there is something that she wants involved, such as treat, her dinner, or to go outside. Other inconvenient commands such as “lay” and “come” have about a 50% success rate. It is not that she doesn’t know what they mean. She just absolutely cannot figure out why she should lay down when she is doing something else, like, say, pawing at my face, or chasing the kitty, or sitting. The best part is that my 2 perfect angel dogs have learned by her example instead of the other way around and frequently ignore my increasingly frantic pleas to listen. I have learned the truth and that is that the serene pack leader I once imagined myself to be was all an illusion, fostered only by the sweetness of my other 2 dogs placating my fantasy. In retrospect, I suppose I had it, and by it, I mean Cheyenne, coming to me.
Let me start by explaining that I understand, or more accurately thought I understood, dogs with issues. Jackson, my Border collie, was an emotional wreck when I adopted him. He was terrified of everything, most notably stairs and riding in the car. I worked tirelessly to get him over both fears. I learned what motivated him, I encouraged him, supported, pushed and comforted him. We sat in the car without it running, I treated his motion sickness and I was patient and encouraging, and he not only conquered these fears but worshipped me in the process. I let his adoration go to my head. Looking back, I was probably quite smug; I thought I knew it all. I expected Cheyenne to react the same way, grateful, hanging on to my every wish, existing only for me. I had no idea what was in store for me or the ways that my life would change. The thing is that somewhere in between the many, and I do mean many, eaten shoes, chewed up couches, shredded blankets, books, pens, holes in the backyard, chases through the neighborhood, small rodent kills, and rolling and eating decaying creatures and feces, this little brown spotted dog has run away with my heart.
