July 4, 2011
Today Dulcie gets the hair on her feet trimmed as Allie watches. I'm hoping that she'll figure out what I expect from her when it's her turn on the table. Either she gets the idea, or she's been on a grooming table before because she lets me clip her nails and trim her hair where needed. Then it's off for her first bath.
I pick out the sweetest smelling of the dog shampoo. Allie still smells like a garbage heap. I'm hoping that since I have more time to scrub her than the shelter did, she'll emerge from her bath infused with a more bearable scent.
She seems a little panicked at first about the bath, but soon settles down. She looks so vulnerable with her hair clinging to her ribs, suds dripping into the dirty water at her feet. I rinse and rinse until the water is clear, then quickly wrap her in a beach towel to dry her. She seems to love being enclosed in the warmth of the towel as I rub her hair slowly and gently. She finally smells like a clean dog, and the white of her coat is losing the yellow urine stains.
A few hours later, I find out exactly how soft her hair can be when clean and brushed to a shine. It's still rough in places from poor diet and lack of sunshine, but it's like silk. Dulcie's coat is like satin, and Shani's was like plush velvet. Rimba? She's linen.
The day is quiet; most of the neighborhood is out of town or at the park. We spend it napping and listening to music. The Divas take reluctant short trips out into the still searing heat to practice squatting in tandem. Dulcie and Rimba lie on the floor, limp dust mops in the heat and humidity.
I've finally figured out how to get Allie out of the crate without bumping her head on the door frame. I hook my left index finger in her collar, then slide my right hand under her chest and lift her, swinging her under my left arm. It's like lifting a plaster statue with marble eyes. She's still rigid and staring, but willing to trust me. With her body clasped close to me, my hand under her ribcage and cupping her chest, I feel her relax for a second or two. This becomes the "Allie-as-Football Hold," serving to calm and protect her. Later, I will find I've begun to hold her in the best position to stimulate her key relaxation acupoints.
More T-Touch is used, on Allie's mouth and her tail. Both of these areas deal with fear. I'm also looking for more information on the acupressure. I get out the lavender essential oil and apply a bit to the tips of her ears to help ease her anxiety. While she seems to like the extra touch, her legs snap back faster than new rubber bands when I gently try to stretch them. I decide that I'll work on them after she's been allowed to run in the yard for a few days to work out the major kinks.
I've been invited to a friend's house to watch their fireworks display. I'm reluctant to leave Allie, but I know she'll need to get used to being left sooner or later. To help mask any firework sounds, I leave her crate in the room with the A/C unit and turn on the harp music for her. When I return, she is still calm even though the next door neighbors have been shooting fireworks right outside. I'm grateful that she is doing so well.
I pick out the sweetest smelling of the dog shampoo. Allie still smells like a garbage heap. I'm hoping that since I have more time to scrub her than the shelter did, she'll emerge from her bath infused with a more bearable scent.
She seems a little panicked at first about the bath, but soon settles down. She looks so vulnerable with her hair clinging to her ribs, suds dripping into the dirty water at her feet. I rinse and rinse until the water is clear, then quickly wrap her in a beach towel to dry her. She seems to love being enclosed in the warmth of the towel as I rub her hair slowly and gently. She finally smells like a clean dog, and the white of her coat is losing the yellow urine stains.
A few hours later, I find out exactly how soft her hair can be when clean and brushed to a shine. It's still rough in places from poor diet and lack of sunshine, but it's like silk. Dulcie's coat is like satin, and Shani's was like plush velvet. Rimba? She's linen.
The day is quiet; most of the neighborhood is out of town or at the park. We spend it napping and listening to music. The Divas take reluctant short trips out into the still searing heat to practice squatting in tandem. Dulcie and Rimba lie on the floor, limp dust mops in the heat and humidity.
I've finally figured out how to get Allie out of the crate without bumping her head on the door frame. I hook my left index finger in her collar, then slide my right hand under her chest and lift her, swinging her under my left arm. It's like lifting a plaster statue with marble eyes. She's still rigid and staring, but willing to trust me. With her body clasped close to me, my hand under her ribcage and cupping her chest, I feel her relax for a second or two. This becomes the "Allie-as-Football Hold," serving to calm and protect her. Later, I will find I've begun to hold her in the best position to stimulate her key relaxation acupoints.
More T-Touch is used, on Allie's mouth and her tail. Both of these areas deal with fear. I'm also looking for more information on the acupressure. I get out the lavender essential oil and apply a bit to the tips of her ears to help ease her anxiety. While she seems to like the extra touch, her legs snap back faster than new rubber bands when I gently try to stretch them. I decide that I'll work on them after she's been allowed to run in the yard for a few days to work out the major kinks.
I've been invited to a friend's house to watch their fireworks display. I'm reluctant to leave Allie, but I know she'll need to get used to being left sooner or later. To help mask any firework sounds, I leave her crate in the room with the A/C unit and turn on the harp music for her. When I return, she is still calm even though the next door neighbors have been shooting fireworks right outside. I'm grateful that she is doing so well.
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