We brought him home Saturday afternoon. He was lost, or abandoned or misunderstood, or maybe all of the above, I don’t know. But he is home now, only he doesn’t seem to understand that yet. His name is Charlie.
From the moment we brought him home on Saturday, he spent most of his time sleeping in his crate. By Sunday morning, Charlie went outside and did a little poopoo, and then we came back inside where he did a little poopoo. Unfortunately, his system is a little messed up from all of the stress.
Charlie has spent most of his first three days with us either in his crate, or running from the front door, to the back door, to the front door, to the back door, to the window, and back into his crate where he will stay for hours, even with the door open. His confidence in the decency of humanity is weak. I wonder what happened to him in his four little years before we found him.
The garage door terrifies him. Children on skateboards and tricycles and strollers startle him. He shrinks when approached. It makes me sad to think that anyone may have hurt him. When I watch him sleep, that is what I think the most…how sad that little dog is…how sad I feel for him…(and also he is super cute).
But he is relaxing a little bitty bit, every day. He actually ate his breakfast this morning, for the first time since we brought him home. It has been three days. He is particular about where he eats, and will only eat when he is outside.
This morning he wagged his tail at me, just a low, small wag, but more than we have seen yet.
And he seemed to enjoy his walk. (I had forgotten how much I loved walking in the early morning.)
He even found a place to lie down in the family room, instead of hiding in his crate.
The kids adore him. He doesn’t understand that yet, but he has been so gentle and has allowed them to pat him and crowd around him and talk to him.
Charlie is going to need time and patience (and maybe a lot of it) to come out of his shell.
Do you think dogs have hope? Do you think they ever get to a point that they just give up and stop trying…that they just shut down and never come back?
Someday I hope he will realize that he is no longer lost…that we are his people. That he has a home. Forever.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
…And never stops at all