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| Max in our woods |
The low for him is that he spent most of it under the care of a vet, who anaesthetised him and cut out a growth from his lip. That was one of the two events of the day that Max certainly knew about, at least until the anaesthetic knocked him out. What he didn’t know about, but might have given him a compensating high, was that a representative of the dog shelter where we met him was at the vet’s too. She had the papers we needed to sign to move Max from his existing status, in foster care with us, to full adoption.
We signed. The deed was done. Max had adopted us.
As it happens, if he’d been aware of it, I’m not sure whether he would have regarded it as anything like as momentous as we did.
‘So what’s changed exactly?’ he might have asked.
After all, he knew, and had known for a while, that he lived with us. That we and the house we amusingly persist in regarding as ours, now formed his household. He didn’t need anyone’s signature on a dotted line to confirm what to him must have seemed obvious.
Humans, though, are more complicated. We need bits of paper. We need other people to confirm things that anybody sensible, like a previously abandoned dog only too relieved to have a house to live in at last, views as a done deal.
To be fair, there had been a few issues that we at least, if not Max, needed to clear up during the fostering period.
He had been known to growl at our grandkids. Now, I’m not beyond growling at them myself, especially at 3:00 in the morning, but it’s unlikely that I would ever bite them. Was the same true of Max? We couldn’t really share a house with a dog that might harm the children.
Well, I’m glad to say that during their most recent visits, relations between the grandkids and Max have improved immeasurably. In fact, while our grandson Elliott was with us the week before last, he became quite a fan of feeding Max treats. Max returned the favour, naturally becoming rather a fan of Elliott in his role as treat purveyor. As I recorded previously, Max had probably had little or no contact with kids earlier and that made him wary of them. He seemed to have overcome such fears now, and to have adapted, at least to those two.
In one area there’d been a slightly worrying development, but one we think we can deal with. As he has become increasingly integrated into the household, he has learned from the girls – Luci and Toffee, the two toy poodles – that it’s the dogs’ duty to guard the house. There are people who have the gall to go walking casually past the end of our back or front garden, sometimes even taking their impudence to the point of having dogs – other dogs, not properly cleared or authorised to approach the premises – with them. The answer is naturally to run down to one or other gate and bark at them and, as I mentioned last time, Max has become good at that.
Unfortunately, he’s gone still further. He tends to be less well-disposed towards men than women, possibly because the person who abandoned him was likely to be a hunter (the podenco breed is the classic Spanish hunting dog) and probably a man. When a workman visited us some time ago, and Max couldn’t stop him coming in by barking at him, he bit him instead. Nothing too damaging, and the victim took it in good part, though he admitted it had hurt. We’re taking more care now to keep Max away from anyone he might not take to well, since it’s not something we want to see happen again.
Overall, though, we felt there was no insuperable obstacle to the adoption and so Danielle signed.
The worst moment for Max at the vet’s must have been when Danielle left him there. The poor chap knows what abandonment feels like. Why, the shelter had picked him up from a roadside, where he’d maintained his existence for an uncertain time by foraging for whatever food he could find. He’d learned the difference between surviving and living. Danielle stayed with him until the anaesthetic knocked him out, but waking up, surrounded by strangers in a strange place, must have been a dismal experience that woke some less than pleasant memories.
I’m not sure he altogether forgave us at first. It may have been just the after-effects of the anaesthetic, but it seemed to me that when we got him home, there was something of an unspoken reproach about him. Something which, had he expressed it in words, might have taken the form, ‘you left me behind. Don’t you know how painful that is for someone who’s already known abandonment? Besides, I woke up with this bloody pain in my lip. What on earth did you have those guys do to me while I was out and unable to defend myself?’
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| Yep. Couches are a good thing. And this one’s mine |
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| OK, OK, Luci can come too. So long as she behaves |
And then, of course, there was the evening walk. Max is a dog who springs to his feet and rushes over if he hears us so much as approaching the door. Getting out into the woods was a return to delight for him. I should say, in passing, that he’s great on walks and our fears that he might suddenly reveal the common podenco custom of disappearing and failing to return for hours, haven’t been realised.
The walk went well. Max enjoyed himself. He even revealed his imperturbability by simply ignoring a magpie that attacked him.
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| Max ignoring an aerial attack |
So it was fun to see him being not just admonished – with loud cawing – but actually buzzed by a flying magpie while we were out. And equally fun to see how he completely ignored it. He had things to smell, bushes to explore, and he wasn’t going to be disturbed by a tiresome bird.
Back to normal, then. And now as a full member of the household. Something for him to take for granted and for us to celebrate.
Which we did with a glass or two that evening.
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| Now I’ve adopted you, the least you can do is stroke me when I ask |
2 comments:
Your a day out on the longest day it was the 20th.
Happy to be corrected. Let's just say it was a good, long day
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