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| Friday, June 10, 2005 |
| Projecting? |
Last night I met Hunter. She's some kind of mixed breed red hound who is spending a month with my friends who have Bailey. They lovingly refer to her as the red headed stepdog.
Hunter was a found dog. Someone, not her rescuer, did wrong by Hunter. Someone hurt her irreparably. So now, when you call her name and she thinks she's done something wrong, she immediately lays down and becomes totally unresponsive. She even rolls on her side exposing her vulnerability. But she won't come. It's like she can't even hear you at that point. She's shut herself down, waiting for what's coming...she hopes it won't, but it has come too many times for her not to take precautions. It's what she remembers. And despite all the love and hugs and time spent with her, it's still what she knows. She anticipates pain.
Yet when she's in a calm situation, lying on the floor in the living room, if you talk to her, she turns toward your voice and her ears cock a bit, and she almost smiles. She looks at you intently the whole time you are talking to her, like you are the single most interesting person she's ever known. If you talk long enough she'll sit up and come closer to you so you can scratch her head and ears and neck. She wants to love and be loved.
Always, though, lurking now in the instinctive part of her brain, is the knowledge that humans cause pain. And although I hope that in time her owner, and my friends, and maybe even I, can prove her wrong. It might be too late. |
posted by LoRi~fLoWer
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