At the sake of putting too much humanness on my wise beautiful girl, it seems that her back injury weeks ago has changed the way she views life. She has been VERY good about not jumping up as she healed, too good in fact. And now, although we continue medication as a preventative, her body seems back to normal...her spine is straight, she is not walking humped over, she caries her tail up and ears forward. But there is a timidness, an element of fear in her eyes, when she approaches the couch and her heart says "jump." She sighs then turns away.
In that moment of injury, it seems she became aware of the fact that she is now 11, a SENIOR dog. WD is now cognizant of her body's vulnerability.
She will lie next to me on the floor for hours as I work at the computer but is no longer interested in climbing into my lap to read the blogs.
WD, the Queen of the White Dog Army, hangs back on the periphery at treat time or when the WDA blizzards to the door to welcome Steve. She is interactive from a distance and still commands respect, but it is as if she does not want to put her body in jeopardy in the pressand milling of so many so close.
This erosion of her confidence scares me a bit. The Little White Dog of My Heart has always been independent, opinionated, with a full sense of being in command of her Universe.
Steve, still regaining strength in his ankle from HIS sprain, tells me it takes time. He still wears a support brace even after all these weeks. He reminds me that besides her injury that White Dog has, along with the family, gone through a pretty challenging three months. It will take time to recalibrate and find balance.
Counseling and therapy perhaps? More one-on-one time? Benson lays his head gently on my knee. He is often MY personal therapist. "In time maybe those things, momma," he gently suggests. "But right now why not give what we know works a little more of a chance? Love and patience, momma. Especially the patience part."