Shadow—that could have been another name for Diego.
He followed me from room to room, looking at me with big eyes and little tail wags. He would lay in the doorway while I curl my hair, stay by my feet when I’m at my desk, and sprawl out on the ottoman in front of me when I was on the couch. I’ve gone to the bathroom with a door that didn’t latch, and he kept pushing his nose through while I held my arm against it to keep him out for a minute. He’s curious and he’s a sniffer who can’t keep his nose out of anything for too long. He has hard boundaries for his personal bubble, but expects you to have none and be able to approach as he pleases.
I imagine that if you could ask Diego where his happiest place in the world is, he would say, “With mom!” The saddest place would be, “Without mom.” Yes, I just made a reference to my dog talking to me as if he were a child. That’s just where we’re at. It’s hard not to when he so obviously wants to be with me. He runs to me in the morning and lays on his back, pawing me lightly to pet him. Then I paw him back to be annoying and we go back and forth until he opens his mouth wide to get my attention and I have to say “No teeth!”
Unfortunately, he isn’t like that for everyone. When I got Diego, I was honestly a little nervous that he would only like Purvasha because she would be working from home and be with him all day. The irony is hilarious, because instead he is obsessed with me and I want him to be more open to other people. This has been a thing when Purvasha needs to ask me to have him move so that she can enter a room without wondering if he’s going to snap the air to show he isn’t okay with it. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to guard me and keep people away. She might throw treats across the room to divert his attention and then sneak past. We’ve improved in this area through a combination of Diego learning to relax and Purvasha being able to read his body language, but it takes a conscious effort.
Back then it seemed like we had to hesitate before we could pass him or cause a shift in the environment, and it felt like too much. The tension was high and cracking the code of what was okay and what was not was stressful.
After Diego’s experience at the vet I had emailed the rescue. They said to “100% get a new vet.” Short and sweet. When Diego bit Purvasha’s hand, I messaged the rescue, and with no response followed up again. I was a wreck, wondering if by keeping him I was being irresponsible, or what it meant if I tried to bring him back. I wasn’t sure that I could handle the pressure of what it meant if he bit again. Do they have insurance for that? What would I even need? Can I get sued?
The rescue wasn’t responding, and I had had enough of the uncertainty. I filled out a surrender evaluation form online and waited.
In some ways he was doing well. He was so smart. I truly believed that he was trainable. We had been waiting to hear back from the rescue, so in the meantime I was going to work on crate training. Supposedly he was trained already, but it hadn’t gone well the first attempt. I started slowly, throwing a treat inside and rewarding him when he would stay for a second. We gradually increased his time, and then I would slightly close the door and reward him again. Then I began latching the door and unlatching it. Reward. I left it latched for a couple seconds and then opened it. Reward. We increased the time while I moved away from the crate and threw treats inside it. Reward. I latched it and walked out of the room—GRRRRRRR.
Diego did not like when I left the room with him in it. We took a break and I talked to some people and got advice. Popular opinion was that a dog was never going to just like being in a crate, you needed to leave him in there until he quieted down and realized he’s fine. I didn’t know. I decided to try it.
I closed the bedroom door and left him in his crate with a bone, toys, and treats. I went downstairs, listening to the barking begin. I could hear the crate rattle. When I went downstairs, my brother Mitch was at the door to come visit. Not the most ideal time, but we invited him to come in to sit through crate training with us. I told him that Diego had been in there for a couple minutes. It was killing me hearing his cries from upstairs. Mitch sat calmly with Purvasha and I downstairs, and when I was about to cave encouraged me to give it five more minutes. Brittany came over shortly after. It was a family affair.
There was a shift in timing between his barks. I thought it had stopped once, and Mitch told me to wait the full five minutes. Sure enough, Diego had started again. As we reached a steady few seconds of quietness,s I ran upstairs to praise him. He was laying quietly and I was so proud of him at first, but it looked like there was moisture in the crate and he might have peed out of nervousness. I felt terrible.
I took a step back and worked on getting him to like running into his crate, with less of a push to stay inside at first. Still to this day, if he’s not sure what you want him to do and he wants a treat, he’ll run into his crate. We did get to a point where he slept in it at night downstairs, but if there were any loud noises from the utility room or outside, I would awake to barks and a very stressed-out dog. The crate moved several inches across the floor from shaking it. I would go down and let him out so that he could inspect what made the sound and then try to go back to sleep.
Some of training was fun! Purvasha and I would take turns saying a command, one of us upstairs and the other downstairs with treats to get him some run like we had an agility course and teach him new tricks. He picked up on some so quickly and was smiling so big! It was satisfying to see his progress. It felt like we might even be getting the hang of some of this.
And then I checked my email and noticed a new message, “I see you sent in a surrender form. I am going to have you meet with the trainer tomorrow night so we can see what he thinks about everything going on and then I can look for a new foster home for him.”
Is this really happening?
What I wish I knew then…
I felt a lot of a pressure to crate train, some self-imposed. I knew if I would get to visit my parents that they would prefer for a dog to stay in a crate, as opposed to running freely around the house. That’s fine. Their house, their rules and all that. I also figured that if he was going to stay with someone that he should have a place that’s his, that makes him feel safe and them feel comfortable that he’s not going to chew things or go potty in the house. It took me a long time to accept that I wasn’t actually doing it for me.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s still on my list of long-term goals, but I was putting way too much pressure on myself. Each time I left him for a moment and he barked I felt like I was failing, and like I was being mean to Diego. There was a period in the first couple months that he could stay downstairs in his crate and make it through the night, but something changed. After awhile, I would put him to bed and he would bark. Purvasha and I would close our bedroom doors and listen to it continue for over half an hour. I was scared the neighbors would call me in with a noise complaint.
One neighbor actually text me and I was afraid to read it, but she was reaching out to make sure I was okay. She had never heard the barking before, but happened to notice it this night. I was so relieved that she was concerned and not angry.
Multiple nights in a row of not sleeping in the hopes that he would learn to quiet down was killing my energy and my patience. I needed to let go of my expectations that I was holding myself to for others. I needed to let go of some of the expectations I had of Diego to get there. I had to let go of what I expected from myself. Diego wasn’t ready to stay in a crate all night, and forcing it was only hurting both of us.
I started letting him sleep on a dog bed outside of my room with a nightlight, and I finally began sleeping again. He was more relaxed the next day because he wasn’t wired with adrenaline from the night before. If he did hear crazy sounds, he had the freedom to run downstairs and see if he could figure it out. He was happier, and so was I.
My dog is unique, and for some things we are going to have to make our own rules.
Megan Kiecker 