Well, depending on whom you ask about how Savannah is settling into her new home with us, the response would be "She's doing absolutely great!" (from me) or "She hasn't bonded with me at all." (from my husband).
And we would both be correct.
I thought Savannah had turned the proverbial corner the other night because she chose to lie down next to my husband as he sat on the floor in the TV room. Her puppy body, nearly 40-pounds-worth, was as close as she could get to my husband without actually being on his lap. I happened to walk into the room and my husband looked at me, gave a sideways glance to his right where Savannah was sleeping, and silently mouthed the words "Look at this!" I was absolutely thrilled to see that Savannah had finally accepted the fact that my husband does indeed live here and she needs to obey and respect him just as she does with me. When we went upstairs that night, I knew that my husband was content with Savannah and happy with the belief that he picked a good puppy for us. All was right in our little corner of this country-bubble.
Then, yesterday morning.... oh my. Savannah was playing with her toys in the breakfast room while I was typing at my lap-top. I heard my husband close his office door upstairs and I knew he'd be heading down the stairs to leave for work. I just sat here typing and typing. As my husband started to come down the stairs, I could hear Savannah growling softly... and I kept typing, thinking nothing of it at all. When my husband's feet got off the back staircase and started coming into the kitchen, Savannah dropped her toy, got up quickly and raced into the kitchen, barking and roaring and carrying on as if we were being invaded by space aliens. She stopped roaring when she saw my husband in the kitchen, but she didn't stop barking.
Oh my. Not good. My hands seemed to be frozen over my keyboard here and I just didn't know what to say. My husband was looking at Savannah incredulously and all I could think of to say was "It's okay, Savannah, it's okay... that's just daddy, for goodness sake." I knew right then what my husband was thinking: "Well, don't you think she should know that by now?" And of course I knew he was thinking of Gracie and how quickly and immediately Gracie bonded to him when she was a puppy... a bond that lasted for all of that dog's 15 years with us.
It was not the right time to tell my husband that Savannah was just a puppy and was bound to make mistakes, and we need to have patience with her because it's clear that she hadn't ever had a male figure in her life before. Not the right time to say all of those things, but I did anyway. I didn't want my husband to go out of that door and off to work thinking that Savannah didn't like him. I know that she does... she proved that the other night. I truly think that she just doesn't see him enough during the day because he's busy with work and busy outside and busy in his office upstairs. Or maybe she thought he had already left that morning and she just forgot that he was upstairs! And as for bonding quickly with me... Savannah had no choice because I was the one here walking her and feeding her and getting her outside all the time to avoid puppy-accidents.... she was (and is) being the model puppy for me and I appreciate every bit of it.
But all of that doesn't take away the fact that every time Savannah sees my husband, it seems that she has to get to know him all over again, as if it's the first time they've met. Oh my. Not good.
Yesterday afternoon was Waldorf Wednesday... the ladies in the hills here come to my house for tea.... and Savannah has seen them last week and the week before, but still, she has to make friends with them all over again. The only exception being JAS, the momma-person of Bella, the little Chihuahua up the road. Savannah has walked with Bella and JAS and recognizes them now, along with JAS's daughter and her dog Fritz.... all of us have walked together up and down our road. The dogs get along, they walk up and down and back again, and Savannah is very content and doesn't consider them to be 'strangers' anymore.
Maybe that's what we need to do with Savannah... maybe my husband should come out walking on the road with me and Savannah, so she learns that he's not out to hurt her, that he's here to take care of her just like I do, and feed her and walk with her, and ultimately (hopefully) love her just like he loved Gracie for all of those years. Well. Maybe that's the problem. Deep in my soul, I have a feeling that my husband's heart is still with Gracie, even though Gracie is no longer with us. And maybe, just maybe, Savannah senses that as well.
When Gracie passed away five years ago, I missed her presence in this house terribly. Even though she was every inch my husband's dog, she was still here in the house with me and I found myself missing the moments when I would nearly trip over her because she would sleep in the middle of the kitchen. It took me the longest time to not have tears in my eyes when I talked about Gracie, and it wasn't until we got Savannah that I knew how much I truly missed having a dog in this house.
We waited too long to bring another dog into our home after losing Gracie. Five years is a long time, and during those years, my husband had plenty of time to build Gracie's Best Dog In The World pedestal higher and higher and how could any puppy ever hope to compete with that kind of predecessor? My husband has forgotten all the puppy craziness that we went through with Gracie... all the obedience classes because she was such a 'pig-headed puppy' (the trainer's words, not mine). He has most likely forgotten the two times I packed up all of Gracie's toys and blankets and told him that she was going back to the shelter because she was the most uncontrollable puppy I'd ever met in my life. He begged me to give Gracie another chance. I said okay, and we made an appointment with the dog trainer that very day... and we did eventually end up with a perfect dog at the end of those expensive training sessions.
If my husband now looks at Savannah and sees the mature and well-trained dog that Gracie was, rather than the well-behaved 5-month-old puppy that Savannah is, it's quite possible that Savannah sees herself through my husband's eyes and understands that in his heart, no puppy could ever possibly measure up to his memory of Gracie.
Oh my. Not good. Not good at all.
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