Side chick


I’ve become a side-chick, or side-hooman more accurately.

Dani is doing well. Other than a couple of days of nocturnal bathroom mishaps, and a slight backslide into heightened wariness, she keeps making steps forward.

She has become more timid around me. Instead of jumping up on the couch when I’m sitting on one end, she retreats to her new safe place on the floor at Mister’s feet.

We do a living room dance, with her sometimes going to elaborate lengths to keep an acceptable distance between us. I have to make a great show of ignoring her when she frantically jukes and dodges me. Like a little kid, if I can’t see her, she must be invisible.

She’ll pace in front of the kitchen while I make dinner but never quite comes in, even when I try to lure her in with MarroBones. She’s curious, and I think that will eventually win out.

Nighttime is different.

When the house is dark, and everyone else is asleep, I become Dani’s dirty little secret. She’ll get on the bed with me and snuggle, nestling into the bowl of my legs, or spooning my thigh. She’ll even give my nose wet doggy kisses – until the other hoomans wake up. Then it’s back into the Friend Zone for me.

As soon as Dani realizes Mister is awake, she immediately jumps up, not giving me a backward glance.

I have pictorial evidence! You can’t deny me forever.

Posted by

I believe all good fiction includes an element of truth, and all good photography includes an element of fantasy. In this journal I hope to give voice to the stories swirling around in my head, and to capture the images I see through my camera’s lens.

6 thoughts on “Side chick

  1. With Maggie, if she wasn’t feeling well, she would come to me, but if feeling frightened or insecure, she’d go to Hubby, but then we had her from a puppy. Building the trust of a dog that has a history can take months if not years. It took months to gain my GSD’s trust, then she was loyal and protective of me. At five, she had been abandoned, tied to the fence of a breeders, a nervous wreck. They reckon she’d had pups and they’d then got rid of her. I traced her fear to white coats purely by accident, so either a vet, doctor or butcher had hurt her. My vet understood, and took his coat off when he examined her. She was fine with him, but it was my Dad who won her over. He ignored her, then hung his arm down by the side of the sofa. Eventually her curiosity got the better of her and she ventured towards and then under it. The strokes started and she didn’t move, falling asleep as he continued chatting and soothing her. It sounds like you’ve reached that stage at night with Dani. Wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to Darlene Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.