Carley

And just like that, Dolly is off to her forever home.

Carley’s commercial breeding life is over. No more wondering where she’s going or why someone is coming for her. She now has a home, a family, and housemates who will give her the wonderful life of joy, comfort, and peace that she always deserved.

I truly believe she will quickly leave her past behind. Whatever worries and uncertainty she carried with her will slowly be washed away by a flood of love, patience, and acceptance.

Her life has changed forever, and this time, it’s forever in the best possible way.

Go live your best life, Dolly. You’ve earned it.

As a former commercial breeder dog, Carley exhibits certain traits. She cowers. She nervous pees. She struggles with thresholds, both coming and going. She eats tentatively and inconsistently. She still won’t take a treat from my hand, although she is very interested in knowing exactly what is in it. She’ll eagerly sniff my hand, my food, or whatever I’m cooking, but taking something from me? Absolutely not.

She has, however, started showing a little more curiosity. I’ve caught her putting her paws up on the kitchen counter to get a better sniff of what I’m cooking. When I’m eating, she’ll get right in my face to investigate. She isn’t really begging—she just needs to know what’s happening. What is that? What does it smell like? Is it important? She needs answers.

I even took her for a pup cup. She was very interested in seeing it and sniffing it. Eating it, however, was apparently unnecessary. Knowing that the pup cup existed seemed to be enough information for her.

We’re getting very close to the end of our three weeks together, and she is getting better and better on walks. She still cowers when passing other people, but there is something interesting about it: She also wants to go toward them. It’s almost as if the curiosity and the fear are fighting it out, and fear is starting to lose.

She is not reactive. She doesn’t make a fuss. In fact, I still don’t think I’ve heard her speak. When she goes outside, she needs to know another dog is coming with her. If she sees one of my resident dogs heading toward the door, she will suddenly sprint outside like she’s been waiting all day. If nobody is coming, she doesn’t want to go.

Coming back inside is completely different. The second she sees that the door is open, she comes flying through it. I’m also beginning to wonder if Carley has some degree of hearing deficiency—or maybe she has simply decided that her name is something entirely new. It’s hard to tell. With Carley, there always seems to be another little mystery to solve.

At night, she likes to see that I’m in bed. She sleeps in the corner right next to the bed, close enough to know where I am, but she hasn’t quite convinced herself that jumping up is something she should do. She looks like she might want to. Maybe someday.

And then there’s the biggest thing I’m learning about Carley. She needs another dog. Carley needs a resident dog who can show her how things work. She has a difficult time making decisions on her own, and when something becomes too complicated, she tends to shut down. Another dog gives her confidence. She watches them, follows their lead, and seems to borrow a little courage from them.

There is a dog in there. I’m seeing more of her every day. The curiosity is starting to peek through. The confidence is growing. She’s learning that doors lead somewhere, people aren’t necessarily scary, walks can actually be enjoyable, and the kitchen is apparently a very interesting place.

Carley still has a long way to go, but she’s moving forward.

And I’m beginning to think that when she finally decides the world is safe enough, we’re going to discover that there’s a pretty wonderful dog underneath all that cowering.