Jake the re-homed westie has been with us for nearly seven months now. A lifetime. I’m still fascinated by how we’ve adapted to having a stubborn old dog about the place, and how he’s adapted to us. Having trained us that longing looks at the fridge mean ‘ham, ham, ham, give me ham’, he seems generally quite contented with us, and he’s getting more relaxed in the outside world.
He’s not a bouncy, friendly dog; he’s more likely to lick a wee-ed on, flithy, city wall than a warm, clean and loving hand. He lets us know when he wants cuddled and stroked and enjoys it all; in his time, on his terms. He’s still wary of other people- he wouldn’t let Grandad take him for a walk even though Grandad had been nothing but kind and good to him for a week- and retreats quietly from situations he’s not happy with.
His reaction to other dogs is changing too. It’s no longer ‘head down move on swiftly nothing to see here’. He tolerates sniffing, sniffs back, and is beginning to wag his tail at these encounters.
This morning in the park, his interaction went to a whole new level. He was the investigating doggie. Bounding over for a good old sniff, sniff, sniff at another butt.
The other butt was in action at the time.
Jake only just missed getting covered in something not only smelly but warm too. He’d have loved it.