So, the new dog and I are not best friends yet. I think I love him. I care for him. I pad his crate w extra towels and dog beds so that he is comfortable, but, I’m not drawn to him, not like I was to O.
I suppose this is natural.
For a long time I compared him to O. O would lie down when I asked, O did not jump up, O did not nose through the garbage.
Admittedly, O did not come when I called. At this, the new dog is a pro. Say Here, and he’s by your side in a flash. Of this I am grateful.
But all of that, all that was O, was familiar. I knew what to do, what to expect. How to prepare.
O was so much more than a command. He was nine years of partnership. He knew by which coat I put on, what was happening next: We are going for a walk, I am heading to work for the day. He was seamless. He was intuitive. He was…
We were comrades. He was my faithful companion. He was the ears in the rear view mirror and the soft fur beneath my fingers at 4am. O was home.
It seems as if the new dog does not really know what to do. At times he’s over eager. He will flip on his back while pawing at you, sometimes yawning and clamping his jaw. He’s anxious. I imagine he misses his brother. When he lies down in the crate he curls to one end. For a big dog he takes up very little space in there. As if leaving room for his brother.
If I could, I’d get a companion for him. But all I can do for now is be patient and not get super pissed when he steals a loaf of bread off the counter, which he did tonight. All I can do for now is say, Yes, or No, and do my best to love.
None of this is his fault.
It’s all in my head.
I want to love like before, but I must learn to love new.